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After some days spent in listless indolence, during which I

traversed many leagues, I arrived at Strasburgh, where I waited

two days for Clerval. He came. Alas, how great was the contrast

between us! He was alive to every new scene, joyful when he saw

the beauties of the setting sun, and more happy when he beheld it

rise and recommence a new day. He pointed out to me the shifting

colours of the landscape and the appearances of the sky. "This is

what it is to live," he cried; "now I enjoy existence! But you,

my dear Frankenstein, wherefore are you desponding and

sorrowful!" In truth, I was occupied by gloomy thoughts and

neither saw the descent of the evening star nor the golden

sunrise reflected in the Rhine. And you, my friend, would be far

more amused with the journal of Clerval, who observed the scenery

with an eye of feeling and delight, than in listening to my

reflections. I, a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut

up every avenue to enjoyment.