It is indeed a tale so strange, that I should fear you
would not credit it, were there not something in truth which, however
wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be mistaken
for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.” My manner, as I thus
addressed him, was impressive, but calm; I had formed in my own heart a
resolution to pursue my destroyer to death; and this purpose quieted my
agony, and provisionally reconciled me to life. I now related my history
briefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with
accuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation. The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I
continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes
shudder with horror, at others a lively surprise, unmingled with
disbelief, was painted on his countenance. When I had concluded my narration, I said. “This is the being whom I
accuse, and for whose detection and punishment I call upon you to exert
your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and
hope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of
those functions on this occasion.”

This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my
auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is
given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was
called upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his
incredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, “I would willingly
afford you every aid in your pursuit; but the creature of whom you
speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to
defiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice,
and inhabit caves and dens, where no man would venture to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes,
and no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered, or what region
he may now inhabit.”

“I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit; and if he
has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois,
and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts: you do
not credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the
punishment which is his desert.”

As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated;
“You are mistaken,” said he, “I will exert myself; and if it is in my
power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment
proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself
described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable, and
that, while every proper measure is pursued, you should endeavour to
make up your mind to disappointment.”

“That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My
revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I
confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is
unspeakable, when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose
upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand: I have but one
resource; and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his
destruction.”

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a phrenzy
in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness,
which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan
magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of
devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of
madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child, and
reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium. “Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease;
you know not what it is you say.”

I broke from the house angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on
some other mode of action. CHAPTER VII. My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was
swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed
me with strength and composure; it modelled my feelings, and allowed me
to be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death
would have been my portion. My first resolution was to quit Geneva for ever; my country, which, when
I was happy and beloved, was dear to me, now, in my adversity, became
hateful. I provided myself with a sum of money, together with a few
jewels which had belonged to my mother, and departed. And now my wanderings began, which are to cease but with life. I have
traversed a vast portion of the earth, and have endured all the
hardships which travellers, in deserts and barbarous countries, are wont
to meet. How I have lived I hardly know; many times have I stretched my
failing limbs upon the sandy plain, and prayed for death. But revenge
kept me alive; I dared not die, and leave my adversary in being. When I quitted Geneva, my first labour was to gain some clue by which I
might trace the steps of my fiendish enemy. But my plan was unsettled;
and I wandered many hours around the confines of the town, uncertain
what path I should pursue. As night approached, I found myself at the
entrance of the cemetery where William, Elizabeth, and my father,
reposed. I entered it, and approached the tomb which marked their
graves. Every thing was silent, except the leaves of the trees, which
were gently agitated by the wind; the night was nearly dark; and the
scene would have been solemn and affecting even to an uninterested
observer. The spirits of the departed seemed to flit around, and to cast
a shadow, which was felt but seen not, around the head of the mourner. The deep grief which this scene had at first excited quickly gave way to
rage and despair. They were dead, and I lived; their murderer also
lived, and to destroy him I must drag out my weary existence. I knelt on
the grass, and kissed the earth, and with quivering lips exclaimed, “By
the sacred earth on which I kneel, by the shades that wander near me, by
the deep and eternal grief that I feel, I swear; and by thee, O Night,
and by the spirits that preside over thee, I swear to pursue the dæmon,
who caused this misery, until he or I shall perish in mortal conflict. For this purpose I will preserve my life: to execute this dear revenge,
will I again behold the sun, and tread the green herbage of earth, which
otherwise should vanish from my eyes for ever. And I call on you,
spirits of the dead; and on you, wandering ministers of vengeance, to
aid and conduct me in my work. Let the cursed and hellish monster drink
deep of agony; let him feel the despair that now torments me.”

I had begun my adjuration with solemnity, and an awe which almost
assured me that the shades of my murdered friends heard and approved my
devotion; but the furies possessed me as I concluded, and rage choaked
my utterance. I was answered through the stillness of night by a loud and fiendish
laugh.