my lovely
boy, who the night before I had seen blooming and yodelling, stretched on the
grass lifeless and motionless. He was as stiff as a poker. His neck had been
broken and his face was facing backwards. In other words he was lying face
downwards on his back. He was conveyed home in a wheelbarrow. The anguish
visible on my countenance betrayed the secret to Elizabeth. The fact that the
body was rigid was another giveaway. She was Very keen to see the corpse; she
likes that sort of thing. Seeing the corpse, she fainted away; a bucket of
water soon revived her. The previous day William had teased her to let him wear
a very valuable miniature. It was an ivory elephant and he wanted to use it as
fishing bait.
Come,
Victor, not brooding thoughts of vengeane against the assassin — but just in
case would you bring a musket, a sword, a brace of pistols and a bomb.
Your affectionate and afflicted father,
Alphonse Frankenstein
Geneva, May 12th, 17—
‘My
dear Frankenstein,’ exclaimed Henry, when he perceived me weeping with
bitterness, ‘are we always to see you unhappy, you miserable bastard?’
I
motioned him to take up the letter so he took it up to the first floor while I
walked up and down the room from north to south, to east and west, to
nor-noreast, to sou-souwest, to 20° west, to 30° east — by which time I had
covered the whole room.
‘I
can offer you no consolation,’ said he.
‘Then
piss off,’ said I.
‘Now
I go instantly to Geneva: come with me, Henry, to order four horses over the
counter.’ I held up four fingers to make sure we got them. As soon as the
horses arrived I hurried into a cabriolet and bade farewell to my friend.
My
journey was very uncomfortable as I was suffering from piles and looking
forward to the gift of suppositories. I wished to hurry home for I longed to
console and sympathise with the miserable bloody lot back home.
As
I approached my home
I
recognised the dome
I
recognised the bailiffs men
Bringing
out the furniture now and then
The last contents they brought
was my mother
And then my invalid brother.
I
remained two days at Lausanne in a painful state of mind and arse and then
continued my journey towards Geneva. The road ran by the side of the lake which
became narrower and narrower and narrower and finally it disappeared, and so
did I; it took a month to find me again. As I approached my native town I
discovered more distinctly the black sides of Jura and the bright summit of
Mont Blancmange. I wept like a child — boo hoo hoo. ‘Dear mountains! My own beautiful
lake! How do you welcome your wanderer?’ At that moment a landslide pushed me
and the carriage into the lake. That’s how they welcome their wandering kith
and kin.
‘Which
are you,’ said a peasant digging me out, ‘are you kith or kin?’
‘I
am kith.’
‘Well
good, we don’t want any kins here.’
Yet
as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me so I did not care a
fuck for the Jura or Mont Blancmange. Night also closed around and I could
hardly see the dark mountains. My landlady said she had put a po under my bed
but if I used it I was not to put it back under the bed because the steam rusts
the springs.
As I cowered on deck it started
to rain
And, terrible luck, I fell in the
lake again
William, this storm is your
funeral hymn
But I got no bloody response from
him.
As
I was unable to rest I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had
been murdered. As I could not pass through the town I was obliged to cross the
lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this short voyage, as I was
rowing, the boat flooded and sank and I had to swim for the shore. I saw the
lightning playing on the summit of Mont Blancmange. Already soaked to the skin,
it started to rain again, absolutely flooding me. It was pitch dark until my
eyes recovered themselves to the darkness. During that time I fell in the lake
for a second time.
From
the bank I