To Mrs. Saville, England
Geneva, October 3, 17
My Dearest Sister--
I have wonderful news! The best of all news! Although my mission failed horribly, one wondrous miracle overshadows all the misfortunes of that undertaking; Frankenstein is alive!
At the end of my last letter, I had thought that Dr. Frankenstein was dead. However, it seems that he had instead sunken into a deep slumber. Not three hours after his monster departed from my cabin, I heard a groan from the bed where Frankenstein lay. I immediately hastened to his side, and found him to be breathing harshly. I lay a hand hesitantly on my friend's forehead; it was burning up with fever. With this, I called the doctor, who was greatly dismayed that Frankenstein was still alive. The doctor attended to Frankenstein for many hours after that, fighting to keep the wretched man alive. I would have stayed with them for the entire time, but I had a ship and crew to attend to. The ice had melted by that time, and the closer to land we traveled, the less ice there was. In fact, our ship was now traveling at a speed greater than any we had achieved in the last fortnight.
As soon as land was spotted, I instructed the crew as to what to do, and then hastened back to my friend's side. Frankenstein still looked extremely pale and sickly; however, the doctor informed me that his health had improved greatly, and he would live after all.
After three more days of traveling, we reached land in Archangel. The entire crew embarked joyously into the town with their wages. But still, Frankenstein was gravely ill and very weak; at that moment, he was hardly capable of muttering a few delirious phrases under his breath. I sold the ship, and with the money obtained a carriage to St. Petersburg. Carefully, I cared for Frankenstein. The entire trip, from St. Petersburg to Geneva, I have been treating Frankenstein: he is steadily regaining his health.
When our carriage stopped in Warsaw, Poland, I sent ahead a letter to the household of Frankenstein, informing them of his return, and of his trials since he had left. From my understanding of his tragic tale, there still was one member of the family alive—Frankenstein's younger brother, Ernest.
When we finally reached Geneva, Frankenstein was better than I had ever seen him. However, he was still feverous, and he could barely stand. I helped him out of the carriage in front of his estate, where Ernest was waiting for us expectantly. As soon as Ernest spotted his brother, he rushed forward to welcome him back.
Victor Frankenstein collapsed into Ernest's arms immediately. "Oh, brother," he sobbed, "I swear, there is not a man more wretched than I in all of the world."
At this, I noticed a strange expression on Ernest's face, one that only I saw. He looked slightly pained, and strangely angry. But in an instant, it had passed, and Ernest turned to help his brother into the house. Frankenstein, in the midst of his tears, introduced me to Ernest. He graciously invited me into the house.
Once inside, Ernest thanked me profusely for returning Victor to him. "I do not know how I can ever repay you for your kindness," he said, "but just know this: you are welcome in our home whenever you like, for as long as you'd like. You can never know how much this means to me."
I was surprised by Ernest's fervent tone, but when Victor invited me to stay for dinner, I was more than happy to oblige. It had been a long trip, and a hot meal and a warm bed was very inviting to me.
Dinner with the Frankensteins was certainly the strangest meal I had ever been a part of. Victor seemed about to fall asleep into his meat the entire time, and his state was not helped much by Ernest's worried questions. At long last, the doctor waved him off with a promise to tell all after the meal was over. The rest of supper passed in silence; Ernest would cast an anxious glance at his brother now and then, but Victor seemed too tired to notice, or, for that matter, care. I was unsure of what to say to either, and, after a time, simply wanted the meal to end.
After the meal, we adjourned to the sitting room, where Victor began his tale. It was every bit as harrowing as it had been the first time, but in this telling the feeling was ever more amplified by the shocked exclamation and outraged cries of Ernest. Victor's tale continued well into the night, and by the time he finished, the skies outside were graying with hints of dawn.
"And so," finished Frankenstein, "that ends my tale of woe. Never has a more wretched man existed than I, nor a more wretched story. I have lost everything, and it can never be regained."
At this statement, Ernest once again made the strange, angry expression. He stood up abruptly and walked over to the fireplace, leaning against the mantle. "Do you think," he said quietly, not facing us, "that I have not lost as much as you?"
Frankenstein started slightly, and looked at his brother, as if through new eyes. "I did not--"
"I, too, have lost things that can never be replaced. I have lost my mother, father, brother, cousin…and love."
Frankenstein looked dismayed, but did not say anything. Ernest continued, "I loved Justine, more than words can say. I am aware that I was only sixteen, and she nineteen, when she was taken, but I loved her all the same. I have lost, too. I am also grieving." Ernest paused, and turned to face his brother. "Do not place the blame on yourself. It was your monster's, not your hands that destroyed this family. I only ask that you do not assume that you are the only person who is hurting."
With that, Ernest walked out of the room. Frankenstein and I both stayed seated, too shocked to say anything.
After a time, I stood up and went to the room that had been laid out for me by the servants. As I quitted the sitting room, I heard a small voice behind me mutter, "Dear God, what have I done?"
II and fjfjI am writing this letter from the guest room in the Frankenstein estate. My bags are packed, and my carriage will be leaving today. I will be back in London shortly—right now I am staying the night with Ernest and Frankenstein. I shall love to be back home again soon, but for the moment, you and I will both have to be content with only letters.
Much Love—Robert