Even Cato wept over the dead body of his
brother.”

Clerval spoke thus as we hurried through the streets; the words
impressed themselves on my mind, and I remembered them afterwards in
solitude. But now, as soon as the horses arrived, I hurried into a
cabriole, and bade farewell to my friend. My journey was very melancholy. At first I wished to hurry on, for I
longed to console and sympathize with my loved and sorrowing friends;
but when I drew near my native town, I slackened my progress. I could
hardly sustain the multitude of feelings that crowded into my mind. I
passed through scenes familiar to my youth, but which I had not seen for
nearly six years. How altered every thing might be during that time? One
sudden and desolating change had taken place; but a thousand little
circumstances might have by degrees worked other alterations which,
although they were done more tranquilly, might not be the less decisive. Fear overcame me; I dared not advance, dreading a thousand nameless
evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define them. I remained two days at Lausanne, in this painful state of mind. I
contemplated the lake: the waters were placid; all around was calm, and
the snowy mountains, “the palaces of nature,” were not changed. By
degrees the calm and heavenly scene restored me, and I continued my
journey towards Geneva. The road ran by the side of the lake, which became narrower as I
approached my native town. I discovered more distinctly the black sides
of Jura, and the bright summit of Mont Blânc; I wept like a child: “Dear
mountains! my own beautiful lake! how do you welcome your wanderer? Your
summits are clear; the sky and lake are blue and placid. Is this to
prognosticate peace, or to mock at my unhappiness?”

I fear, my friend, that I shall render myself tedious by dwelling on
these preliminary circumstances; but they were days of comparative
happiness, and I think of them with pleasure. My country, my beloved
country! who but a native can tell the delight I took in again beholding
thy streams, thy mountains, and, more than all, thy lovely lake. Yet, as I drew nearer home, grief and fear again overcame me. Night also
closed around; and when I could hardly see the dark mountains, I felt
still more gloomily. The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil,
and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched
of human beings. Alas! I prophesied truly, and failed only in one single
circumstance, that in all the misery I imagined and dreaded, I did not
conceive the hundredth part of the anguish I was destined to endure. It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva; the
gates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to pass the night
at Secheron, a village half a league to the east of the city. The sky
was serene; and, 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 I saw the lightnings playing on
the summit of Mont Blânc in the most beautiful figures. The storm
appeared to approach rapidly; and, on landing, I ascended a low hill,
that I might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were
clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its
violence quickly increased. I quitted my seat, and walked on, although the darkness and storm
increased every minute, and the thunder burst with a terrific crash
over my head. It was echoed from Salêve, the Juras, and the Alps of
Savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzled my eyes, illuminating the
lake, making it appear like a vast sheet of fire; then for an instant
every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, until the eye recovered itself
from the preceding flash. The storm, as is often the case in
Switzerland, appeared at once in various parts of the heavens. The most
violent storm hung exactly north of the town, over that part of the lake
which lies between the promontory of Belrive and the village of Copêt. Another storm enlightened Jura with faint flashes; and another darkened
and sometimes disclosed the Môle, a peaked mountain to the east of the
lake. While I watched the storm, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with
a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped
my hands, and exclaimed aloud, “William, dear angel! this is thy
funeral, this thy dirge!” As I said these words, I perceived in the
gloom a figure which stole from behind a clump of trees near me; I stood
fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken. A flash of lightning
illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its
gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than
belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the
filthy dæmon to whom I had given life. What did he there? Could he be (I
shuddered at the conception) the murderer of my brother? No sooner did
that idea cross my imagination, than I became convinced of its truth; my
teeth chattered, and I was forced to lean against a tree for support. The figure passed me quickly, and I lost it in the gloom. Nothing in
human shape could have destroyed that fair child. _He_ was the murderer! I could not doubt it. The mere presence of the idea was an irresistible
proof of the fact. I thought of pursuing the devil; but it would have
been in vain, for another flash discovered him to me hanging among the
rocks of the nearly perpendicular ascent of Mont Salêve, a hill that
bounds Plainpalais on the south. He soon reached the summit, and
disappeared. I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still continued,
and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I revolved in
my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: the whole
train of my progress towards the creation; the appearance of the work of
my own hands alive at my bed side; its departure. Two years had now
nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was
this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a depraved
wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not murdered my
brother? No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the
night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not feel
the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in scenes of
evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind,
and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such
as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own
vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy
all that was dear to me. Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were
open; and I hastened to my father’s house. My first thought was to
discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be
made.