were opened into a side garden laid with neat, symmetrical paths. I heard a woman’s voice somewhere above me say sharply, “Please do not mention the subject again!”
I had no scruples about eavesdropping.
A man’s voice replied, “Elizabeth, dearest Elizabeth, you must have thought of these things fully as much as I! I beg you, let us discuss them! Secrecy will be the undoing of the Frankensteins!”
“Henry, I cannot let you say a word against Victor. Silence must be our policy! You are his dearest friend, and must act accordingly.”
A tantalizing snatch of conversation!
Peeping cautiously, I could see that there was a balcony overlooking the garden. It belonged to a room on the first floor, where possibly Elizabeth had her own sitting room. That it was she, and talking to Henry Clerval, I now had no doubt.
He said, “I’ve told you how secretive Victor was in Ingoldstadt. At first, I thought he was mentally deranged. And then those months of what he chose to call nervous fever... He kept babbling then about some fiend that had taken possession of him. He seemed to get over it, but he behaved in the same alarming manner in court this morning. As an old friend—as more than friend—I beg you not to contemplate marriage with him—”
“Henry, you must say no more or we shall quarrel! You know Victor and I are to be married. I admit Victor is evasive at times, but we have known each other since early childhood, we are as close as brother and sister—” She checked what she was saying and then went on in an altered tone. “Victor is a scientist. We must respect his moods of abstraction.” She was going on to add something more, when a cold voice behind me said, “What may you be after?”
I turned. It was a bad moment.
Ernest Frankenstein stood there. The anger on his brow made him look uncommonly like a younger version of his brother. He was dressed all in black.
“I am being kept waiting with a message for Miss Lavenza.”
“I see you put your waiting to good use. Who are you?”
“My name, sir, since you inquire so civilly, is Bodenland. I come with word from Mr. Victor Frankenstein. He is your brother, is he not?”
“Didn’t I see you in court this morning?”
“Whom did you not see in court this morning?”
“Give me the message. I will deliver it to my cousin.” I hesitated. “I would prefer to deliver it direct.”
As he put out his hand, Elizabeth entered behind him. Perhaps she had heard our voices and used them as an excuse to break away from Henry Clerval.
Her entry gave me the chance to ignore Ernest and present her with Victor’s note myself, which I did. As she read it, I was able to study her.
She was small, delicately made, and yet not fragile. Her hair was the most beautiful thing about her. True, her face was perfect of feature, but I thought I saw a coldness there, a pinched look about the mouth, which a younger man might have missed.
She read the note without changing her expression. “Thank you,” she said. I was dismissed in the phrase. She looked haughtily at me, waiting for me to leave. I gazed at her, thinking that if she had appeared gentler I might have ventured to say something to her on Victor’s behalf. As it was, I nodded and made for the door; she looked the sort of woman who won protracted lawsuits.
I went back to the car.
Whatever the time was, it was later than I wished. I still hoped to aid Justine—or rather to correct the course of justice, feeling, in some vague and entirely unwarrantable way, that I was more civilized than these Genevese, having a two-century evolutionary lead over them!
My diversion with the Frankensteins had gained me nothing. Or perhaps it had. Understanding. I certainly understood more about the explosive nature of Frankenstein’s situation; hell hath no fury like a reformer who wishes to remake the world and finds the world prefers its irredeemable self. And his complex emotional relationship with Elizabeth,
I had no scruples about eavesdropping.
A man’s voice replied, “Elizabeth, dearest Elizabeth, you must have thought of these things fully as much as I! I beg you, let us discuss them! Secrecy will be the undoing of the Frankensteins!”
“Henry, I cannot let you say a word against Victor. Silence must be our policy! You are his dearest friend, and must act accordingly.”
A tantalizing snatch of conversation!
Peeping cautiously, I could see that there was a balcony overlooking the garden. It belonged to a room on the first floor, where possibly Elizabeth had her own sitting room. That it was she, and talking to Henry Clerval, I now had no doubt.
He said, “I’ve told you how secretive Victor was in Ingoldstadt. At first, I thought he was mentally deranged. And then those months of what he chose to call nervous fever... He kept babbling then about some fiend that had taken possession of him. He seemed to get over it, but he behaved in the same alarming manner in court this morning. As an old friend—as more than friend—I beg you not to contemplate marriage with him—”
“Henry, you must say no more or we shall quarrel! You know Victor and I are to be married. I admit Victor is evasive at times, but we have known each other since early childhood, we are as close as brother and sister—” She checked what she was saying and then went on in an altered tone. “Victor is a scientist. We must respect his moods of abstraction.” She was going on to add something more, when a cold voice behind me said, “What may you be after?”
I turned. It was a bad moment.
Ernest Frankenstein stood there. The anger on his brow made him look uncommonly like a younger version of his brother. He was dressed all in black.
“I am being kept waiting with a message for Miss Lavenza.”
“I see you put your waiting to good use. Who are you?”
“My name, sir, since you inquire so civilly, is Bodenland. I come with word from Mr. Victor Frankenstein. He is your brother, is he not?”
“Didn’t I see you in court this morning?”
“Whom did you not see in court this morning?”
“Give me the message. I will deliver it to my cousin.” I hesitated. “I would prefer to deliver it direct.”
As he put out his hand, Elizabeth entered behind him. Perhaps she had heard our voices and used them as an excuse to break away from Henry Clerval.
Her entry gave me the chance to ignore Ernest and present her with Victor’s note myself, which I did. As she read it, I was able to study her.
She was small, delicately made, and yet not fragile. Her hair was the most beautiful thing about her. True, her face was perfect of feature, but I thought I saw a coldness there, a pinched look about the mouth, which a younger man might have missed.
She read the note without changing her expression. “Thank you,” she said. I was dismissed in the phrase. She looked haughtily at me, waiting for me to leave. I gazed at her, thinking that if she had appeared gentler I might have ventured to say something to her on Victor’s behalf. As it was, I nodded and made for the door; she looked the sort of woman who won protracted lawsuits.
I went back to the car.
Whatever the time was, it was later than I wished. I still hoped to aid Justine—or rather to correct the course of justice, feeling, in some vague and entirely unwarrantable way, that I was more civilized than these Genevese, having a two-century evolutionary lead over them!
My diversion with the Frankensteins had gained me nothing. Or perhaps it had. Understanding. I certainly understood more about the explosive nature of Frankenstein’s situation; hell hath no fury like a reformer who wishes to remake the world and finds the world prefers its irredeemable self. And his complex emotional relationship with Elizabeth,
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