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Thus I might proclaim myself a madman,but not revoke the sentence passed upon my wretched victim. Sheperished on the scaffold as a murderess!From the tortures of my own heart, I turned to contemplate the deep andvoiceless grief of my Elizabeth. This also was my doing! And myfather's woe, and the desolation of that late so smiling home all wasthe work of my thrice-accursed hands! Ye weep, unhappy ones, but theseare not your last tears! Again shall you raise the funeral wail, andthe sound of your lamentations shall again and again be heard!Frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, your early, much-loved friend; hewho would spend each vital drop of blood for your sakes, who has nothought nor sense of joy except as it is mirrored also in your dearcountenances, who would fill the air with blessings and spend his lifein serving you--he bids you weep, to shed countless tears; happy beyondhis hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied, and if the destructionpause before the peace of the grave have succeeded to your sad torments!Thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn by remorse, horror, and despair,I beheld those I loved spend vain sorrow upon the graves of William andJustine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowed arts.
In his life, hisliving life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy onhis own ground. He be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He comeagain, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance.With the child-brain that was to him he have long since conceive theidea of coming to a great city.alfevdels
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