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About
September of the following year, his letters stopped completely.
He did not come home to Geneva for holidays, and I could see
that his father and Elizabeth were troubled. In his last letter
he said that he had learned as much as Ingolstadt could teach
him. If this was true, then what was it still kept him there?
Even a letter to Krempe brought a reply that added little to
what they knew. Frankenstein had indeed left the university -against
Krempe's wishes- and was now following some studies of his own
(though what these studies were, Krempe did not say).
Eight months passed without any news, and then old Frankenstein
decided to act.
"Somebody must go to Ingolstadt. It cannot be me. My
travelling days are over, and Elizabeth cannot give up her
duties in the house. We shall have to arrange something,"
he said, giving me a look full of meaning.
Soon after this, old Frankenstein appeared at my house and asked
to see my father. My father, as I have said, was a hard man, but
old Frankenstein was good at making people change their ideas.
The fact that he was rich and an important man also helped my
father to allow the following arrangement to take place. In
return for help with the cost of my studies I would go to
Ingolstadt, where I would enter the university and find out what
Victor was doing. Having found out, I was to look after him if
necessary, and to make him write home.
So it happened that because my friend stopped writing letters I
was able to escape from my father's shop and do what I wanted to
do above all things, to go to university.
The very next day I took the public carriage from Geneva to
Lausanne and from there to Berne. It was a four day journey
across Switzerland to Lake Constance, then into south Germany by
Ulm to Ingolstadt.
It was late afternoon when the carriage crossed the River Danube
and entered the walls of that pleasant old town, then washed in
the golden light of late summer. That, at least, is how it must
have appeared to me that first time. But when I think of what
happened later -when I think of what first saw the light in that
little town- I cannot remember Ingolstadt without feelings of
pain and horror.
I
left my bags at the inn where the carriage stopped and asked my
way to the street where my friend was staying.
Number sixteen was one of those fine old houses, built a very
long time ago, that one still finds in those south German towns.
I climbed up four lots of stairs until the only other stairs
were those that led up to the roof. There was just one door with
a card pinned to it. It was dark there, but I could read the
name: Victor Frankenstein.I moved my hand down the side of the
door until I found the bell, and pulled. A long way inside I
heard it ring. As I stood there listening to the sound of
footsteps coming nearer and nearer I wondered what changes two
years had made in my friend. Two years is a long time in the
life of a young man.
The footsteps reached the door, and I heard the sound of several
locks being turned, it seemed as if he kept his door very
carefully closed. At last it opened, and there he stood -
Frankenstein! Yes, it was him, but not the Frankenstein I
remembered. Deathly pale, with wild eyes and an uncared-for
beard, he was not the young man who had lived the healthy, out-of-door
life with me in the mountains of our own country. This thin body
on which the clothes hung as if they had been made for someone
bigger could not have walked five kilometres. I wondered if he
ever left his room.
However, I found no cause for displeasure in the way he received
me. After a moment of surprise he came forward and took my hand.
A look of joy appeared on his face.
"Henri," he cried, "you come just at the right
time."
He drew me inside, and then closed the door. This took some time
since there were, as I had thought, several large locks.
Visitors were clearly neither expected nor wished for.
Frankenstein led the way down a long, dark passage to a book-filled
room. A bed stood on one side, looking as if nothing had been
done to it for days; and on a table near the window were the
remains of several meals. There was dust everywhere, and the
last of the evening sun shone with difficulty through the dirty
windows. There was a rather unpleasant smell.
After I had given him news about his family and told him the
reasons for my coming to Ingolstadt, Frankenstein got up and
walked about the room excitedly. He did not seem to be thinking
at all about what I had just told him.
"Henri," he said at last. "You have come just
at the very moment when I need your help. The great work which I
have been doing for the last year is coming to an end, and I
shall soon know whether I have been wasting my time or whether I
have pushed scientific discovery to new heights." His eyes
burned with a strange light. They were like the eyes of a
madman.
"My preparations are nearly complete. All I need now are
the right conditions for the great experiment to take place.
"Come," he said, and led the way to a door in a corner
of his living room. "You will see what no other man has
seen."
He threw open the door, and at once the strange smell which I
had noticed before became stronger. It was like the smell of bad
meat. I could hardly bear it, but my friend seemed not to notice
it, and led the way in.
The room was dark, and at first I could only see a mass of
wires, glass bottles and jars, and copper and glass pipes. Here
and there the blue light of burners made holes in the darkness.
And from those places the sound of boiling liquids could be
heard.
As my eyes began to see better in the half-darkness I saw that
this stuff was arranged round some kind of bath in the middle of
the room with a wooden work-table that went all the way round
it. Frankenstein was watching me. There was still this strange
excitement in his eyes.
"Go on," he said, "look inside. See what I have
made."
I bent over the table and looked into the bath. It was filled
with a clear liquid. I tried to see deeper into this liquid, but
at first all I could see was what looked like hair, fine hair. I
bent lower, and as Frankenstein moved a lamp nearer I drew in my
breath sharply. It was hair, spread out in a golden ring around
a face, a head. More. Yes, there was a body in the bath... the
body of a man!
Source: Longman Classics
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