Chapter 6

Clerval handed me this letter. It was from Elizabeth: "My dearest Cousin, "You’ve been really sick, like, seriously ill. Even Henry’s letters, sweet and kind as they are, aren't enough to ease my worries. You’ve been told not to write, not to even pick up a pen.

But I need to hear from you, Victor, just a few words to calm us all down. I’ve been expecting this news for ages, and I’d been trying to stop Uncle from heading over to Ingolstadt. I saved him from a long, possibly dangerous trip, but I’ve been kicking myself for not going myself!

"I bet you're stuck with some old, hired nurse who wouldnn't get what you want or take care of you the way I would. But Clerval says you’re getting better! I’m seriously hoping you’ll write back soon and tell me yourself. "Get better and come home.

You'll find a happy, fun place and friends who love you tons. Dad’s doing great, and he just wants to see you, to know you’re okay. You’ll be so happy to see how much Ernest has grown! He’s sixteen now, full of energy and life.

He’s dreaming of being a real Swiss guy and joining the military overseas, but we can’t let him go - not until your brother’s back. Uncle isn't thrilled about the whole military thing, but Ernest just isn’t like you when it comes to studying.

"He thinks studying is a total drag; he spends all his time outside, hiking or rowing on the lake. I'm worried he’s going to end up being a slacker unless we give in and let him do what he wants."

Not much has changed since you left, except the kids have grown up a ton. The lake's still that gorgeous blue, and the mountains are still covered in snow - they never change, you know? I feel like our cozy home and our happy hearts just go with the same rules, like clockwork.

I keep busy with little stuff, and it's actually fun. Seeing everyone around me smiling and being so kind? That’s the best reward. But there's been one change in our little family since you left. Remember how Justine Moritz came to live with us? Maybe not; let me quickly tell you her story.

Madame Moritz, her mom, was a widow with four kids, and Justine was number three. Her dad totally adored her, but her mom just couldn't stand her. After Monsieur Moritz passed, she treated Justine pretty badly.

My aunt noticed and convinced Madame Moritz to let Justine come live with us when she was twelve. Our country's whole vibe - the way we do things - is just simpler and happier than in those big monarchies around us. There’s less of a gap between different people, and everyone’s just... nicer.

The lower classes aren't struggling as much or feeling looked down on, so their manners are better too. A "servant" here in Geneva isn’t the same as in France or England.

Justine fit right in, learned what being a servant meant, which, thankfully, doesn't mean being ignorant or losing your dignity here.

"Justine, you might remember, was a total fave of yours; and I recall you once said that if you were feeling down, just one look from Justine could totally cheer you up - like Ariosto said about Angelica’s beauty, she just looked so genuinely happy and open."

My aunt really bonded with her, and that’s why she gave her an education way better than she’d originally planned. Justine totally repaid the favor; she was the most grateful little person ever.

I'm not saying she made a bunch of grand speeches - I never even heard her say anything like that - but you could just see it in her eyes, she practically worshipped her protector.

Even though she was pretty bubbly and sometimes a bit clueless, she paid super close attention to everything my aunt did. She thought my aunt was the definition of perfection and tried to copy her words and style, so she still reminds me of her a lot.

"When my dearest aunt passed, everyone was so caught up in their own sadness that they totally missed poor Justine, who had been taking care of her during her illness with so much worry. Poor Justine was really sick, but even tougher stuff was waiting for her."

One by one, her brothers and sister passed away; and her mom, except for her ignored daughter, was left with no kids. The woman felt awful; she started thinking their deaths were a punishment from above for playing favorites. She was Roman Catholic, and I think her priest backed up the idea she had.

So, a few months after I left for Ingolstadt, Justine came home with her repentant mom. Poor girl! She cried when she left our house; she’d changed a lot since my aunt died . Grief had made her softer and more sweet - her personality used to be so energetic.

But things weren't great at her mom’s place either. The woman was all over the place with her regret. Sometimes she’d ask Justine to forgive her for being mean, but mostly she’d blame her for her brothers and sister dying. Constant worry wore Madame Moritz down, which made her even crankier at first.

But now she’s finally at peace. She died when the weather started to get cold, at the start of last winter. Justine just came back; and I swear, I really love her. She’s smart, gentle, and super pretty - like I said before, her look and her expression always remind me of my dear aunt.

"I also gotta tell you about little William, my dear cousin. You seriously need to see him; he’s really tall for his age, with these cute, laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curly hair. When he smiles, these little dimples pop up on his cheeks, all rosy and healthy."

He’s already had a couple of girlfriends, but Louisa Biron is his fave - a really pretty little girl who’s five.

"Okay, Victor, you’ve gotta hear the tea about Geneva. Miss Mansfield’s already getting all the congrats on her wedding to a young Englishman, John Melbourne, Esq. Her not-so-pretty sister, Manon, married M. Duvillard, that rich banker, last fall. Remember Louis Manoir, your old schoolmate?"

"He’s been through it since Clerval left, but he’s bouncing back and reportedly about to marry a lively, cute French widow, Madame Tavernier. She’s older than him, but everyone digs her, seriously. "I’m feeling way better, dear cousin, but I’m stressing out as I finish this.

"Just write, Victor - even a quick line would mean the world. Huge thanks to Henry for being so kind and sending so many letters - we’re super grateful. Adieu! Take care of yourself, and please, for the love of all that's holy, write! "Elizabeth Lavenza. "Geneva, March eighteenth, seventeen - ."

"Seriously, Elizabeth! I blurted out after reading her letter. "I’m writing back right away to ease their worries. I wrote, and it totally wiped me out, but I was finally starting to feel better, and it was happening steadily. In another two weeks, I was good to leave my room.

One of my first things to do when I started feeling better was to introduce Clerval to the university professors. But it was kind of rough, honestly, especially considering what my mind had been through.

Ever since that awful night - the end of my work and the start of all my bad luck - I’d developed a serious dislike for even the idea of natural philosophy. Even though I was pretty much back to normal, just seeing a chemistry tool would bring back all the pain from my nervous system.

Henry noticed and had already gotten rid of all my equipment. He even moved me to a different room because he realized I hated my old lab. But nothing he did helped when I met the professors. M. Waldman was brutal when he complimented how far I’d come in science, all nice and warm.

He figured out I didn't like it, but he didn’t know why, so he thought I was just being modest. Then he switched the topic to the science itself, clearly trying to get me to talk about it. What was I supposed to do? He was just trying to be nice, but it totally stressed me out.

It felt like he was carefully showing me the tools they’d use to slowly and painfully torture me. I wanted to squirm, but I couldn't show him how much it hurt. Clerval, who always picked up on how I was feeling, totally dodged the subject, saying he knew nothing about it.

So, the conversation went in a different direction.

I really thanked my friend, deep down. But I didn’t say a word. He looked totally surprised, but he didn't push me to spill. Even though I loved him - like, really loved him - with a feeling that was off the charts, I just couldn't bring myself to tell him about what kept popping into my head.

I was worried that if I did, it would just hit him harder.

M. Krempe wasn’t chill at all. And, honestly, I was super sensitive then, so his blunt praise stung way more than M. Waldman’s nice comments. Seriously, what a guy! he exclaimed. M. Clerval, I’m telling you, he’s crushed us all. Go ahead, look shocked, but it’s true.

A kid who, just a few years back, believed in Cornelius Agrippa just as much as the Bible, is now running the whole university. If they don’t knock him down soon, we’re all gonna look ridiculous. He kept going, noticing my face was totally upset. "Yeah, yeah, M. Frankenstein’s humble.

That's a great quality in a young guy, you know, M. Clerval. I was like that when I was young, but that fades real quick. M. Krempe had started going on about himself, which was a total relief because it changed the subject from something so stressful for me."

Clerval just wasn't into natural science like I was, and his whole vibe with books was totally different. He came to the university wanting to become a total pro at oriental languages. Basically, he wanted to open up a whole new path for himself.

He was determined to avoid anything boring, so he set his sights on the East, thinking it’s where he could really shine. Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit - those were his jam. I was down to join in on those studies too.

I’m not about that chill life, and I needed to get away from thinking about stuff, plus I was over my old classes. It was a huge relief to be learning alongside my friend, and I found instruction and comfort in what the orientalists were doing.

I didn't try to get all technical with their dialects like he did. I wasn't planning on using them for anything serious, just a bit of fun. I just read to get the gist of things, and they really paid off.

Their sadness is strangely calming, and their joy is uplifting in a way I'd never felt with writers from anywhere else. When you read their stuff, life feels like a warm sun and a garden full of roses - like a fair enemy’s smiles and frowns, and the fire burning inside you.

It’s so different from the tough and heroic poetry of Greece and Rome!

Summer just flew by with everything I was doing, and I’d planned to head back to Geneva by late fall. But then, a bunch of stuff happened, winter and snow showed up early, the roads were totally iced over, and my trip got pushed back until next spring.

I was seriously bummed; I really wanted to see my hometown and my friends. I’d just been held up because I didn’t want to leave Clerval in a new place before he’d made any connections. Still, the winter was pretty chill, and even though spring was super late, it was gorgeous when it finally got here.

May was already here, and I was expecting a letter any day now that would tell me exactly when I could leave. Then Henry suggested we go for a walk around Ingolstadt so I could say goodbye to the place I’d lived in for so long.

I was totally down for that - I love getting some exercise, and Clerval’s always been my go-to guy for those kinds of walks, especially when I'm thinking about my home.

We spent two weeks just wandering around - seriously, it was amazing. My health and mood were totally back, and the fresh air, cool scenery, and chats with my friend just made everything better. Before, studying had kept me away from people, made me a bit of a loner.

But Clerval brought out the best in me; he reminded me how awesome nature is, and how much fun kids are. Seriously, what a friend! He really loved me and pushed me to be a better person. I’d gotten so caught up in my own stuff, it had narrowed my world.

But his kindness and affection opened me up again - I felt like that happy guy from a few years back, loved and laughing, with no worries. When I was happy, nature just gave me the best vibes. A clear sky and green fields? Total bliss.

This time of year was unreal; spring flowers were popping up everywhere, and summer buds were already showing. I wasn’t dealing with those heavy thoughts I’d been carrying around for the last year, even though I tried to shake them off. Henry was stoked for me and really felt what I was feeling.

He went all out to keep me entertained, and he’s like, poured his heart out. His brain was seriously on another level - he's got this incredible imagination. He’d make up stories, just like those old Persian and Arabic writers, full of crazy fantasy and passion.

Sometimes he’d recite my favorite poems, or we’d just debate stuff, and he’d argue his points so cleverly. We headed back to college on a Sunday afternoon. People were dancing, and everyone we saw looked happy and chill. I was feeling great, bouncing along with a huge smile on my face.