“They were nothing but drunken superstitious fools,” the wife pronounced, smoothing down her apron with her hands.
I asked if they had heard of any other cases of people murdered in such a manner.
“Only with Mr. Frankenstein have we had such trouble,” the innkeeper's wife stated bluntly. She headed towards the door, thus signalling to me that she felt the interview at an end.
“But they never did find the murderer,” the husband said, clearly alarmed by his own realization. “What if he is still in the city?”
As there was no definite answer I could give, I chose to ask, as I had done with many others, if they had seen anyone who looked like the monster. Once again, the description of a man with lustrous black hair, skin barely covering the arteries, pearly white teeth, yellow eyes, straight black lips, and of unusual height brought no recognition or memory. Yet again, no one had seen monster. The monster admitted to being
fearful of encountering the visage of a human being,
and so was accustomed to travelling by night; nevertheless, it is hard to fathom that not a single person ever saw his ominous figure.
Dearest Father,
My greatest wish is that this letter finds you and all my family well. Although the trip was fatiguing, it was otherwise uneventful until my arrival. How singular was the coincidence in which Victor and I met. The Swiss coach in which I travelled had only just arrived at the Ingolstadt inn where it usually stopped. I opened the door and Victor stood there as if expecting my arrival. The surprise was all mine when I had thought to be the one to surprise him. But it is no matter, for now I am here and we are together. I fairly leapt out of the carriage, so glad was I to see him at that very moment.
Victor appeared preoccupied and distraught, but as we spoke and I told him of our mutual friends and how I had managed to arrange to travel to Ingolstadt, he relaxed noticeably. I made no mention of his father having encouraged me to see his son, of whom the whole Frankenstein household had heard so very little and was so deeply concerned for his welfare. I told Victor a tale of how I had persuaded you, dearest Father, with some great difficulty, to allow me to come to Ingolstadt. This little deception will cause you, sir, little inconvenience, and I am certain you will see that it was done with Victor's best interest in mind.
Victor has grown very thin in his person, which sets off his tallness even more so. His hair he has let grow long, and is in no style of any kind. I could almost laugh were he not so pitiful; his time at university has made of him a wild man, instead of taming and sophisticating him. It appeared as if he had not slept for many nights, and so I questioned him on this. He told me that he had been fully engaged in one particular occupation, something to do with his studies, and his eagerness to complete the task had not allowed himself sufficient time to rest.
We went directly to Victor's rooms, where I was first amused by his overly fastidious behaviour. He would not let me ascend until he had ascertained that the rooms were in fit condition for my visit. I assured him that he need show no special attentions for me, but he would not have it and left me at the bottom of the stairs while he climbed to his chambers. This is a new trait for Victor, as I cannot recall him being in any manner concerned with such domestic matters in the past. The room was deemed acceptable and we went in together. The other room was not perhaps well-kept, as the door remained firmly shut during my entire visit.
After we had partaken of a light meal, Victor grew more and more animated, which at first I took as a sign that he was recovering his spirits. It soon appeared that this was not the case, for he could not contain himself and was soon bounding around the room as one possessed. He jumped over chairs, clapped his hands erratically, and laughed aloud, but this was no normal laugh, but an inhuman painful laugh that came from somewhere deep in his soul, and yet his eye took on an unnatural look, dead and lifeless, soulless, even. As you can well imagine, I was shaken to the core.
When I demanded of him the cause of his actions, he begged me not to question him further, and then he cried, “Save me. Save me.” He fell down in a fit, pointing wildly at the place behind me where there was nothing any more exceptional than a clothes press and a cheval glass.
Immediately, I summoned the servants and sent one running for a doctor. With the aid of another servant, I attempted to carry Victor to his bed, but this only agitated him more. The doctor arrived quickly and advised that we remove Victor from the room. This suggestion had great success, for no sooner had we carried Victor out of the room than his fit ended. It left him in a lifeless state from which he may not recover for some time.
The doctor has pronounced that Victor suffers from a nervous fever and will need a great deal of rest in order to be well again. I am glad I have taken rooms for us at quite some distance from the university, so that Victor may not be preyed upon by those disruptions that so haunted him there. He now has a bright room with a big window looking out over a lovely vista, much in contrast to the darkened gloomy spaces he has inhabited alone for far too many months.
I have found my dear friend in the most deplorable state. He will remain with me at the inn until such a time as he is better, and then we shall both return to Geneva. Victor has lapses caused by his habit of meeting secretly with others and will not introduce me. I have made a point of making my presence unavoidable, as Victor invariably comes away from these meetings sick, and I cannot feel that this penchant for strange and secretive behaviour can be of any benefit to his present state of mind. I have given him a letter from Elizabeth, who has certainly entreated him to return home. I trust with the addition of my own similar entreating, Victor will wish to return. I dare not tell Mr. Frankenstein of his son, as it would only increase his concern. Tell him only what you must. I leave it in your good hands, sir, to see that this is handled well.
Respectfully, your loving son,
Henry
Dear Father,
This illness of Victor's has lasted for several months, but now it comes to an end. You were wise, Father, to conceal the extent of his disorder from Mr. Frankenstein and Elizabeth to spare them from grief. I am fairly confident that a visit from Mr. Frankenstein to his son would only bring undue aggravation upon father and son alike, and so it is best that no reason to travel from Geneva be mentioned. By slow degrees, and with a number of relapses, Victor has recovered. I am pleased to say that he is more than content with the lodgings I have arranged for us, and it appears that much of the gloom that hung about him has disappeared. This was even more so when I gave him another letter sent by his cousin Elizabeth. He received great joy from reading her letter, and insisted on writing her back immediately, even though the exertion tired him completely. Not more than a week or so after this, he was able to leave his chamber, and not long after that we were able to take walks about the city and its environs.
On one of these excursions, we met with Professor Waldman, one of Victor's professors from the university. The few times I have endeavoured to speak to Victor of his studies, he pretends not to have heard me, and if I repeat the question he grows peevish and churlish and wonders aloud at what kind of friend I am to
torment him so. It was because of this that I watched carefully as he introduced Professor Waldman to me. From the way Victor held himself, I could tell that the name of natural philosophy and the thought of chemical instruments renewed his nervous symptoms. Victor's infirm condition appeared visible only to the knowing eye, for certainly Professor Waldman had no idea the torture he gave his student as he lavished his praises for Victor's achievements in the sciences. Mercifully, Professor Waldman's conversation soon took a more general turn and we commented on the loveliness of the weather, and the pleasant aspect of the park.
Not long after this encounter, Victor and I chanced to meet yet another of his professors. The meeting should not have been much of a surprise as we were in the vicinity of the university as we had returned to Victor's rooms in order that he should gather his personal items. Again, I waited at the bottom of the stairs, for the idea that I should follow him to his rooms brought about the look of nervous symptoms I had come to recognize. Although I worried for my friend alone in those rooms that had caused him such distress, I acquiesced, listening intently for any sign of disquiet, prepared to mount the stairs in his aid. When I heard the distinctive sound of breaking glass, immediately I ran up the stairs, but had only made it half way when Victor appeared at the door with his belongings in one hand. He calmly locked the door explaining to me that he had simply knocked over a glass container, but not to worry as one of the servants would tidy the room.
We had barely taken two steps out the door, when we met with Professor Krempe, another of Victor's professors from the university. Professor Krempe was not a person to be content with docile and benevolent approbations of Victor as Professor Waldman had been. Professor Krempe was a blunt person, whose every word played upon the sensitiveness of my friend's feelings. The pain inflicted upon Victor was visible upon his face, and I wondered at Professor Krempe's failure to notice the distress his words caused,
but he went on in his blunt manner to expound at Victor soon being the head of the university as he had so greatly outstripped all the rest. Professor Krempe teased Victor for his earlier beliefs in the ideas of Cornelius Agrippa, and of Victor's modesty. Although there had never been a moment for my introduction, I began to feel it incumbent upon me to move the conversation in another direction as all colour had drained from Victor's face. Thankfully, Professor Krempe had the same thoughts. His approbation of Victor, it appeared, had been a way for him to move diffidently towards eulogizing his own accomplishments as a professor and natural scientist. Professor Krempe was also glad to share with us the many great advances he himself had made at the university, and the greatness of his own ideas and position at the university. Although I am certain Victor must have heard of them more than once before, he became much calmer with the conversation's new direction.
Once Professor Krempe had sated his need to expound upon on his own activities and achievements, he did ask to be introduced to me. Victor did as he was bid, explaining that I was a student of Oriental languages and literature. With some pains, I hid my discomfort; I said little on this matter, hoping that neither of the other two men would draw me out further and my deception should be found out. Indeed, I have told Victor that I have turned my eyes towards the East as a place of enterprise, but it is not purely the literature that I seek. I do not sympathize with Victor's taste in natural science, and his past and present condition I cannot help but blame at least in part upon his studies. I have, however, striven to understand his interest and be supportive. At all times Victor resists any suggestion for my study of any area that is not his chosen path for me. I will wait until he is fully recovered before I tell him of my plans.
Give my love to my mother and sisters.
I remain your loving son,
Henry
Dearest Father,
The delays that caused us to remain in Ingolstadt far longer than originally planned are at an end, as is the winter. We would have returned to Geneva sooner, but Victor proposed a pedestrian tour of the countryside surrounding Ingolstadt, that he might bid a personal farewell to the country he had so long inhabited. I am fond of exercise and acceded with pleasure to this proposition. Victor and I have long been accustomed to being each other's companion in rambles of this nature in our native country, and I find them equally pleasurable here in Ingolstadt.
With a guide, but without Victor, who had some business to finish up at the university, I toured an area east of Ingolstadt, where the views are quite spectacular, although I could not help but worry about my friend who I had left alone for a fortnight. When I returned to Ingolstadt, I was relieved to find Victor in our rooms preparing for our return to Geneva. He had begun to pack a small bag. I was glad to see that my friend's newly improved mood had not altered perceptibly since I had left him. If anything, he seemed more energized and enthusiastic and his face was quite ruddy, indicating that he had not remained indoors the entire time as I had feared he would, but had taken some exercise.
I am pleased to report that Victor has completely regained his strength. For too long was he immersed in his studies, anti-social and barely communicating with his fellow creatures. In our talks, he expresses great joy in all the wonders of spring, and behaves entirely as if he had neither a sorrow nor a care in the world. The sight of peasants dancing sent him into near raptures, so light is his heart. He has successfully thrown off the weight with which the preceding years have burdened him. Cheerfully, we discussed our return to Geneva. I took great pains to tell him of his loved ones, specifically his cousin Elizabeth, for whom he has a special fondness. I have taken particular care when describing her most excellent care of little William, the brother Victor knows nearly not at all, but whom I am sure he will come to love as much as the rest of us do.