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Autor: Mary Shelley

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It was completely dark when I arrived in the environs of Geneva;
the gates of the town were already shut; and I was obliged to
pass the night at Secheron, a village at the distance of half a
league from the city. The sky was serene; and, as I was unable to
rest, I resolved to visit the spot where my poor William had been
murdered. As I could not pass through the town, I was obliged to
cross the lake in a boat to arrive at Plainpalais. During this
short voyage I saw the lightning playing on the summit of Mont
Blanc in the most beautiful figures. The storm appeared to
approach rapidly, and, on landing, I ascended a low hill, that I
might observe its progress. It advanced; the heavens were
clouded, and I soon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops,
but its violence quickly increased.

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