 transformation by Mary Shelley. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Transformation by Mary Shelley. Fourth with this frame of mine was wrenched with a woeful agony which forced me to begin my tale and then it set me free since then at an uncertain hour that agony returns until my ghastly tale is told this heart within me burns. I've heard it said that when any strange supernatural and necromanic adventure has occurred to a human being that being however desirous he may be to conceal the same feels at certain periods torn up as it were in an intellectual earthquake and is forced to bear the inner depths of his spirit to another. I am a witness to the truth of this. I have dearly sworn to myself never to reveal to human ears the horrors to which I once in excessive fiendly pride delivered myself over. The holy man who heard my confession and reconciled me to the church is dead. None knows that once why should it not be thus? Why tell a tale of impious tempting of providence and the source of doing humiliation? Why? Answer me ye who are wise in the secrets of human nature. I only know that so it is and in spite of strong resolve of a pride that too much masters me of shame and even of fear so to render myself odious to my species I must speak. Genoa my birthplace proud city looking upon the blue waves of the Mediterranean Sea does thou remember me in my boyhood when thy cliffs and promontories thy bright sky and gay vineyards were my world. Happy time went to the young heart the narrow bounded universe which leaves by its very limitation free scope to the imagination and chains our physical energies and sole period in our lives innocence and enjoyment are united. Yet who can look back to childhood and not remember its sorrows and its harrowing fears? I was born with the most imperious haughty tameless spirit with which ever mortal was gifted. I quailed before my father only and he generous and noble but capricious and tyrannical at once fostered and checked the wild and petruosity of my character making obedience necessary but inspiring no respect for the motives which guided his commands. To be a man free independent or in better words insolent and domineering was the hope and prayer of my rebel heart. My father had one friend a wealthy Genoese noble who in a political tumult was suddenly sentenced to banishment and his property confiscated. The Marcesse Torella went into exile alone. Like my father he was a widower he had one child the almost infant Juliet who was left under my father's guardianship. I should certainly have been an unkind master to the lovely girl but that I was forced by my position to become her protector. A variety of childish incidents all tended to one point to make Juliet see in me a rock of refuge. I and her one he must perish through the soft sensibility of her nature to really visited but for my guardian care. We grew up together the opening rose in May was not more sweet than this dear girl and a radiation of beauty was spread over her face her form her step her voice my heart weeps even now to think of all of relying gentle loving and pure that was enshrined in that celestial tenement. When I was eleven and Juliet eight years of age a cousin of mine much older than either he seemed to us a man took great notice of my playmate. He called her his bride and asked her to marry him. She refused and he insisted drawing her unwillingly toward him with the countenance and emotions of a maniac I threw myself on him. I strove to draw his sword I clung to his neck with the ferocious resolve to strangle him. He was obliged to call for assistance to disengage himself from me. On that night I led Juliet to the chapel of our house. I made her touch the sacred relics. I harrowed her child's heart and profaned her child's lips with an oath that she would be mine and mine only. Well those days passed away. Tarella returned in a few years and became wealthier and more prosperous than ever. When I was seventeen my father died. He had been magnificent to prodigality. Tarella rejoiced that my minority would afford an opportunity for repairing my fortunes. Juliet and I had been affianced beside my father's deathbed. Tarella was to be a second parent to me. I desired to see the world and I was indulged. I went to Florence, to Rome, to Naples. Thence I passed to Toulon and at length reached what had long been the born of my wishes, Paris. There was wild work in Paris then. The poor king, Charles VI, now sane, now mad, now monarch, now an abject slave, was the very mockery of humanity. The queen, the dolphin, the Duke of Burgundy, alternately friends and foes, now meeting in prodigal feasts, now shedding blood in rivalry, were blind to the miserable state of their country and the dangers that impended over it and gave themselves wholly up to the disillute enjoyment or savage strife. My character still followed me. I was arrogant and self-willed. I loved display and above all, I threw all control far from me. Who could control me in Paris? My young friends were eager to foster passions which furnished them with pleasures. I was deemed handsome. I was master of every nightly accomplishment. I was discontented with any political party. I grew a favourite with them all. My presumption and arrogance were pardoned in one so young. I became a spoiled child. Who could control me? Not the letters and advice of Torella. Only strong necessity visiting me in the abhorred shape of an empty purse. But there were means to refill this void. Acre after acre, estate after estate, I sold. My dress, my jewels, my horses and their comparisons were almost unrivaled in gorgeous Paris while the lands of my inheritance passed into the possession of others. The Duke of Orleans was waylaid and murdered by the Duke of Burgundy. Fear and terror possessed all Paris. The Dolphin and the Queen shut themselves up. Every pleasure was suspended. I grew weary of this state of things and my heart yearned for my boyhood's haunts. I was nearly a beggar yet still I would go there, claim my bride and rebuild my fortunes. A few happy ventures as a merchant would make me rich again. Nevertheless, I would not return in humble guise. My last act was to dispose of my remaining estate near Alborot for half its worth for ready money. Then I dispatched all kinds of artifices, eras, furniture of real splendor to fit up the last relic of my inheritance, my palace in Genoa. I lingered a little longer yet, ashamed at the part of the prodigal return which I feared I should play. I sent my horses. One matchless Spanish genet, I dispatched to my promised bride, its comparisons flamed with jewels and cloth of gold. In every part I caused to be entwined the initials of Juliet and her guira. My present found favour in hers and in her father's eyes. Still to return a proclaimed spendthrift, the mark of impertinent wonder, perhaps of scorn, and to encounter singly the reproaches or taunts of my fellow citizens was not an alluring prospect. As a shield between me and censure I invited some few of my most reckless comrades to accompany me. Thus I went armed against the world, hiding a rankling feeling, half fear and half penitence, by bravado and an insolent display of satisfied vanity. I arrived in Genoa. I trod the pavement of my ancestral palace. My proud step was no interpreter of my heart, for I deeply felt that, though surrounded by every luxury, I was a beggar. The first step I took in claiming Juliet must widely declare me as such. I read contempt or pity in the looks of all. I fancied, so I apt his conscience to imagine what it deserves, that rich and poor, young and old, all regarded me with derision. Tarella came not near me. No wonder that my second father should expect a son's deference from me in waiting first on him. But galled and stung by a sense of my follies and demerit, I strove to throw the blame on others. We kept nightly orgies in Palazzo Carigio. To sleepless riotous nights followed listless supine mornings. At the Ave Maria we showed our dainty persons in the streets, scoffing at the sober citizens, casting insolent glances at the shrinking women. Juliet was not among them. No, no. If she had been there, shame would have driven me away, if love had not brought me to her feet. I grew tired of this. Suddenly I paid the Marchesa visit. He was at his villa, one among the many in which decked the suburb of San Pietro di Arena. It was the month of May, a month of May in that garden of the world. The blossoms of the fruit trees were fading among thick green foliage. The vines were shooting forth. The ground strewed with the fallen olive blooms. The firefly was in the myrtle hedge. Heaven and earth wore a mantle of surpassing beauty. Torella welcomed me kindly, though seriously, and even his shade of displeasure soon wore away. Some resemblance to my father, some look and tone of youthful ingenuousness, lurking still in spite of my misdeeds, softened the good old man's heart. He sent for his daughter. He presented me to her as her betrothed. The chamber became hallowed by a holy light as she entered. Hers was that cherub look, those large soft eyes, full dimpled cheeks, and a mouth of infinite sweetness that expresses the rare union of happiness and love. Admiration first possessed me. She's mine was a second proud emotion, and my lips curled with haughty triumph. I had not been in the enfant gâté of the beauties of France not to have learnt the art of pleasing the soft heart of a woman. If towards men I was overbearing, the deference I paid to them was the more in contrast. I commenced my courtship by the display of a thousand gallantries to Juliet, who, vowed to me from infancy, had never admitted the devotion of others, and who, though accustomed to expressions of admiration, was uninitiated in the language of lovers. For a few days all went well. Torella never alluded to my extravagance. He treated me as a favourite son. But the time came as we discussed the preliminaries to my union with his daughter, when this fair face of things should be overcast. A contract had been drawn up in my father's lifetime. I had rendered this, in fact, void by having squandered the whole of the wealth, which was to have been shared by Juliet and myself. Torella, in consequence, chose to consider this bond as cancelled, and proposed another, in which, though the wealth he bestowed was immeasurably increased, there were so many restrictions as to the mode of spending it, that I, who saw independence only in free career being given to my own imperious will, taunted him as taking advantage of my situation, and refused utterly to subscribe to his conditions. The old man mildly strove to recall me to reason. Roused pride became the tyrant of my thought. I listened with indignation and repelled him with disdain. Juliet, thou art mine. Did we not interchange vows in our innocent childhood? Are we not one in the sight of God? And shall thy cold-hearted, cold-blooded father divide us? Be generous, my love. Be just. Take not away a gift. Last treasure of thy guido. Retract not thy vows. Let us defy the world, and setting it north the calculations of age. Find in our mutual affection a refuge from every ill. Fiend I must have been with such sophistry to endeavour to poison that sanctuary of holy thought and tender love. Juliet shrank from me affrighted. Her father was the best and kindest of men, and she strove to show me how, in obeying him, every good would follow. He would receive my tidy submission with warm affection, and generous pardon would follow my repentance. Prophetless words for a young and gentle daughter to use to a man accustomed to make his will, law, and to feel in his own heart a despot so terrible and stern that he could yield obedience to naught save his own imperious desires. My resentment grew with my resistance. My wild companions were ready to add fuel to the flame. We later planned to carry off Juliet. At first it appeared to be crowned with success. Midway, on our return, we were overtaken by the agonised father and his attendants. A conflict ensued. Before the city guard came to decide the victory in favour of our antagonists, two of Torella's savages were dangerously wounded. This portion of my history weighs most heavily with me. Changed man as I am, I abhor myself in the recollection. May none who hear this tale ever felt as I. A horse driven to fury by a rider armed with barbed spurs was not more slave than I to the violent tyranny of my temper. A fiend possessed my soul, irritating it to madness. I felt the voice of conscience within me, but if I yielded to it for a brief interval, it was only to be a moment after torn, as by a whirlwind away, born along on the stream of desperate rage, the plaything of the storms engendered by pride. I was imprisoned and, at the instance of Torella, set free. Again I returned to carry off both him and his child to France, which hapless country, then preyed on by freebooters and gangs of lawless soldiery, offered a grateful refuge to a criminal like me. Our plots were discovered. I was sentenced to banishment and, as my debts were already enormous, my remaining property was put in the hands of commissioners for their payment. Torella again offered his mediation, requiring only my promise not to renew my abortive attempts on himself and his daughter. I spurned his offers and fancied that I triumphed when I was thrust out from Genoa, a solitary and penniless exile. My companions were gone. They had been dismissed from the city some weeks before and were already in France. I was alone, friendless, with no sword at my side nor duke out in my purse. I wandered along the seashore, a whirlwind of passion possessing and tearing my soul. It was as if a live coal had been set burning in my breast. At first I mediated on what I should do. I would join a band of freebooters, revenge, the word seemed barmed to me. I hugged it, caressed it, till like a serpent it stung me. Then again I would abjure and despise Genoa, that little corner of the world. I would return to Paris, where so many of my friends warmed, where my services would eagerly be accepted, where I could carve out fortune with my sword and might, through success, make my paltry birthplace and the false Torella rue the day when they drove me, a new Coriolanus from her walls. I would return to Paris, thus on foot, a beggar, and present myself in my poverty to those I had formally entertained sumptuously. There was gall in the mere thought of it. The reality of things began to dawn upon my mind, bringing despair in its train. For several months I had been a prisoner. The evils of my dungeon had whipped my soul to madness, but they had subdued my corporeal frame. I was weak and won. Torella had used a thousand artifices to administer it to my comfort. I detected and scorned them all, and I reaped the harvest of my obduracy. What was to be done? Should I crouch before my foe and sue for forgiveness? Die rather ten thousand deaths. Never should they obtain that victory. Hate! I swore eternal hate. Hate from whom? To whom? From a wandering outcast to a mighty noble? I and my feelings were nothing to them. Already had they forgotten one so unworthy. And Juliet, her angel face and self-like form gleamed among the clouds of my despair with vain beauty. For I had lost her, the glory and flower of the world. Another will call her his. That smile of paradise will bless another. Even now my heart fails within me when I recur to this route of grim-visaged ideas. Now subdued almost to tears, now raving in my agony, still I wandered along the rocky shore, which grew at each step wilder and more desolate. Hanning rocks and hoary precipices overlooked the tideless ocean, black caverns yawned, and forever among the seaworn recesses murmured and dashed the unfruitful waters. Now my way was almost barred by an abrupt promontory, now rendered nearly impracticable by fragments fallen from the cliff. Evening was at hand when seaweed arose as if on the waving of a wizard's wand a murky web of clouds blotting a late azure sky and darkening and disturbing with a till now placid deep. The clouds had strange fantastic shapes and they changed and mingled and seemed to be driven about by a mighty spell. The waves raised their white crests, the thunder first muttered then roared from across the waste of waters, which took a deep purple dye flecked with foam. The spot where I stood looked, on one side, to the widespread ocean. On the other it was barred by a rugged promontory. Round this cape suddenly came, driven by the wind, a vessel. In vain the mariners tried to force a path for her to the open sea. The gale drove her on the rocks. It will perish, all on board will perish, would I were among them. And to my young heart the idea of death came for the first time blended with that of joy. It was an awful sight to behold that vessel struggling with her fate. Hardly could I discern the sailors, but I heard them. It was soon all over, a rock just covered by the tossing waves and so unperceived lay in wait for its prey. The crash of thunder broke over my head and the moment that, with a frightful shock, the skiff dashed upon her unseen enemy. In a brief space of time she went to pieces. There I stood in safety and there were my fellow creatures, battling now hopelessly with annihilation. We thought I saw them struggling. Too truly did I hear their shrieks conquering the barking surges in their shrill agony. The dark breakers through hither and thither the fragments of the wreck. Soon it disappeared. I'd been fascinated to gaze till the end. At last I sank on my knees. I covered my face with my hands. I again looked up. Something was floating on the billows towards the shore. It neared and neared. Was that a human form? It grew more distinct and at last a mighty wave, lifting the whole freight, lodged it upon a rock. A human being bestriding a sea chest. A human being. Yet was it one? Surely never such it existed before. A misshapen dwarf with squinting eyes, distorted features, and body deformed till it became a horror to behold. My blood, lately warming towards a fellow being so snatched from a watery tomb, froze in my heart. The dwarf got off his chest. He tossed his straight, straggling hair from his odious visage. Bison beazle-bub, he exclaimed. I have been well twisted. He looked round and saw me. Oh, by the fiend! Here is another ally of the mighty one. To what saint did you offer prayers, friend, if not to mine? Yet I remember you not on board. I shrank from the monster in his glass for me. Again he questioned me, and I muttered some inaudible reply. He continued, Your voice is drowned by this dissonant roar. What a noise the big ocean makes. Schoolboys bursting from their prison are not louder than these waves set free to play. They disturbed me. I will know more of their ill-timed brawling. Silence, hoary one. Winds, avant, to your homes. Clouds, fly to the antipodes and leave our heaven clear. As he spoke, he stretched out his two long, lank arms that looked like spider's claws and seemed to embrace with them the expanse before him. Was it a miracle? The clouds became broken and fled. The azure sky first peeped out and then was spread a calm field of blue above us. The stormy gale was exchanged to the softly breathing west. The sea grew calm. The waves dwindled to ripplets. I like obedience even in these stupid elements, said the dwarf. How much more in the tameless mind of man. It was a well-got-up storm, you must allow, and all of my own making. It was tempting providence to interchange talk with this magician. But power, in all its shapes, is venerable to man. Or curiosity, a clinging fascination, drew me towards him. Come, don't be frightened, friend, said the wretch. I am good-humoured when pleased, and something does please me in your well-proportioned body and handsome face, though you look a little wobagon. You have suffered a land, I a sea-wreck. Perhaps I can allay the tempest of your fortunes as I did my own. Shall we be friends? And he held out his hand. I could not touch it. Well then, companions, that will do as well. And now, while I rest after the buffeting I underwent just now, tell me why, young and gallant as you seem, you wander thus alone and downcast on this wild seashore. The voice of the wretch was screeching and horrid, and his contortions he spoke were frightful to behold. Yet he did gain a kind of influence over me, which I could not master, and I told him my tale. When it was ended, he laughed long and loud. The rocks echoed back the sound, hell seemed yelling around me. Hold our cousin of Lucifer, said he, so thou too hast fallen through thy pride, and though bright as the sun of morning, thou art ready to give up thy good looks, thy bride, and thy well-being, rather than submit thee to the tyranny of God. I honour thy choice by my soul, so thou hast fled, and yield the day, and me to starve on these rocks, and to let the birds pick out thy dead eyes, while thy enemy, and thy betrothed, rejoice in thy ruin. Thy pride is strangely akin to humility, me thinks. As he spoke, a thousand fanged thoughts stung me to the heart. What would you that I should do, I cried. I, oh nothing, but lie down and say your prayers before you die. But were I you, I know the deed that should be done? I drew near him, his supernatural powers made him an oracle in my eyes. Yet a strangely unearthly thrill quivered through my frame, as I said. Speak, teach me, what act do you advise? Revenge thy self-man, humble thy enemies, set thy foot on the old man's neck, and possess thyself of his daughter. To the cast and west I turned, cried I, and I see no means. Had I gold, much could I achieve, but poor and single I am powerless. The dwarf had been seated on his chest as he listened to my story. Now he got off, he touched a spring, it flew open. What a mine of gold wealth, of blazing jewels, beaming in pale silver, was displayed therein. A mad desire to possess his treasure was born within me. Doubtless I said, one so powerful as you could do all things. Nay, said the monster humbly, I am less omnipotent than I seem. Some things I possess which you may covet, but I would give them all for a small share, or even for a loan of what is yours. My possessions are at your service, I replied bitterly. My poverty, my exile, my disgrace, I make a free gift of them all. Good, I thank you, add one other thing to your gift, and my treasure is yours. As nothing is my soul inheritance, what besides nothing would you have? Your comely face and well-made limbs. I shivered. Would this all-powerful monster murder me? I had no dagger. I forgot to pray, but I grew pale. I ask for a loan, not a gift, said the frightful thing. Lend me your body for three days. You shall have mine to cage your soul the while, and in payment my chest. What say you to the bargain? Three short days. We are told that it is dangerous to hold unlawful talk, and well do I prove the same. Tainly written down, it may seem incredible that I should lend any ear to this proposition. But in spite of his unnatural ugliness, there was something fascinating in a being whose voice could govern earth, air, and sea. I felt a keen desire to comply, for with that chest I could command the world. My only hesitation resulted from a fear that he would not be true to his bargain. Then I thought I shall soon die here on these lonely sands, and the limbs he covets will be mine no more. It is worth the chance. And besides, I knew that, by all the rules of art magic, there were formula and odes which none of its practices dead break. I hesitated to reply, and he went on, now displaying his wealth, now speaking of the petty price he demanded, till it seemed madness to refuse. Thus it is. Place our bark in the current of the stream, and down, overfall and cataract it is hurried. Give up our conduct to the wild torrent of passion, and we are away, we know not wither. He swore many an oath, and I adjured him with many a sacred name. Till I saw this wonder of power, this ruler of the elements, shiver like an autumn leaf before my words, and as if the spirits spake unwillingly, and perforce within him. At last, he, with broken voice, revealed the spell, whereby he might be obliged, did he wish to play me false, to render up the unlawful spoil. Our warm lifeblood must mingle to make and to mar the charm. Enough of this unholy theme. I was persuaded, the thing was done. The murrow dawned upon me as I lay upon the shingles, and I knew not my own shadow as it fell from me. I felt myself changed to a shape of horror, and cursed my easy faith and blind credulity. The chest was there, there the golden precious stones for which I had sold the frame of flesh which nature had given me. The sight a little stilled my emotions. Three days would soon be gone. They did pass. The dwarf had supplied me with a plentier store of food. At first I could hardly walk, so strange and out of joint were all my limbs, and my voice, it was that of the fiend. But I kept silent, and turned my face to the sun, that I might not see my shadow, and counted the hours, and ruminated on my future conduct. To bring Torella to my feet, to possess my Juliet in spite of him, all this my wealth could easily achieve. During dark night I slept and dreamt of the accomplishment of my desires. Two suns had set, the third dawned. I was agitated, fearful. Oh, expectation, what a frightful thing art thou, when kindled more my fear than hope. How dost thou twist thyself round the heart, torturing its pulsations? How dost thou dart, unknown pangs, all through our feeble mechanism, now seeming to shiver us like broken glass to nothingness? Now giving us a fresh strength, which can do nothing, and so torment us by sensation, such as the strong man must feel who cannot break his fetters, though they bend in his grasp. Slowly paced the bright, bright orb up the eastern sky, long it lingered in the zenith, and still more slowly wandered down the west. It touched the horizon's verge. It was lost. Its glories were on the summits of the cliff. They grew done in gray. The evening star shone bright. He will soon be here. He came not. By the living heavens he came not, and night dragged out its weary length, and, in its decaying age, day began to grizzle its dark hair, and the sun rose again on the most miserable wretch that ever upbraided its light. Three days thus I passed. The jewels and the gold. Oh, how I bored them. Well, well, I will not blacken these pages with demonic ravings. All too terrible were the thoughts, the raging tumult of ideas that filled my soul. At the end of that time I slept. I had not before since the third sunset, and I dreamt that I was at Juliet's feet, and she smiled, and then she shrieked, for she saw my transformation. And again she smiled, for still her beautiful lover knelt before her. But it was not I. It was he, the fiend, a raid in my limbs, speaking with my voice, winning her with my looks of love. I strove to warn her that my tongue refused its office. I strove to tear him from her, but I was routed to the ground. I awoke with agony. There were the solitary hoary precipices. There the plashing sea, the quiet strand, and the blue sky overall. What did it mean? It was my dream but a mirror of the truth. Was he wooing and winning my betrothed? I would on the instant back to Genoa. But I was banished. I laughed. The dwarfs yell burst from my lips. I banished? Oh no. They had not exiled the foul limbs I wore. I might with these enter, without fear of incurring the threatened penalty of death. My own, my native city. I began to walk towards Genoa. I was somewhat accustomed to my distorted limbs. None were ever so ill adapted for a straightforward movement. It was with infinite difficulty that I proceeded. Then too I desired to avoid all the hamlets strewed here and there on the sea-beach, for I was unwilling to make a display of my hideousness. I was not quite sure that, if seen, the mere boys would not stone me to death as I passed for a monster. Some un-gentle salutations I did receive from the few peasants and fishermen I chanced to meet. But it was dark before I approached Genoa. The weather was so balmy and sweet that it struck me that the Marches and his daughter would very probably have quitted the city for their country retreat. It was from the villa Torella that I had attempted to carry off Juliet. I had spent many an hour reconnoitering the spot, and knew every inch of the ground in its vicinity. It was beautifully situated, embouzoned in trees, on the margin of a stream. As I drew near it became evident that my conjecture was right. Nay, moreover, that the hours were being then devoted to feasting and merriment. For the house was lighted up, strains of soft and gay music were wafted towards me by the breeze. My heart sank within me. Such was the generous kindness of Torella's heart that I felt sure that he would not have indulged in public manifestations of rejoicing just after my unfortunate banishment. But for a cause I did not dwell upon. The country people were all alive and flocking about. It became necessary that I should study to conceal myself, and yet I longed to address someone, or to hear others discourse, or in any way to gain intelligence of what was really going on. At length, entering the walks that were in the immediate vicinity of the mansion, I found one dark enough to veil my excessive frightfulness, and yet others as well as I were loitering in its shade. I soon gathered all I wanted to know. All that first made my very heart die with horror and then boil with indignation. Tomorrow, Juliet was to be given to the penicent, reformed, beloved Guido. Tomorrow, my bride was to pledge her vows to a fiend from hell. I did this, my cursed pride, my demonic violence and wicked self-idolatory had caused this act. For if I had acted as the wretch who had stolen my form had acted, if, with a man at once yielding and dignified, I had presented myself to Torella, saying, I have done wrong, forgive me. I am unworthy of your angel child, but permit me to claim her hereafter, when my altered conduct shall manifest that I abjure my vices, and endeavor to become in some sort worthy of her. I go to serve against the infidels, and when my zeal for religion and my true penitence for the past shall appear to you to cancel my crimes, permit me again to call myself your son. Thus had he spoken, and the penitent was welcomed even as the prodigal son of the scripture. The fatted calf was killed for him, and he, still pursuing the same path, displayed such open-hearted regret for his follies, so humble a concession of all his rights, and so ardent a resolve to reacquire them by a life of contrition and virtue, that he quickly conquered the kind old man, and full pardon, and the gift of his lovely child, followed in swift succession. Oh, had an angel from paradise whispered to me to act with us. But now, what would be the innocent Juliet's fate? Would God permit the foul union, or some prodigy destroying it link the dishonoured name of Carigia with the worst of crimes? Tomorrow at dawn they were to be married. There was but one way to prevent this, to meet my enemy and to enforce the ratification of our agreement. I felt that this could only be done by a mortal struggle. I had no sword, if indeed my distorted arms could wield a soldier's weapon, but I had a dagger, and in that lay my every hope. There was no time for pondering or balancing nicely the question. I might die in the attempt, but besides the burning jealousy and despair of my own heart, honour, mere humanity demanded that I should fall rather than not destroy the machinations of the fiend. The guests departed. The lights began to disappear. It was evident that the inhabitants of the villa were seeking repose. I hid myself amongst the trees. The garden grew desert. The gates were closed. I wandered round and came under a window. Ah, well did I know the same. A soft twilight glimmered in the room. The curtains were half withdrawn. It was the temple of innocence and beauty. Its magnificence was tempered, as it were, by the slight disarrangements occasioned by its being dwelt in. And all the objects scattered around displayed the taste of her who hallowed it by her presence. I saw her enter with a quick light step. I saw her approach the window. She drew back the curtain yet further and looked out into the night. Its breezy freshness played among her ringlets and wafted them from the transparent marble of her brow. She clasped her hands. She raised her eyes to heaven. I heard her voice. Guido, she softly murmured. Mine own Guido. And then, as if overcome by the fullness of her own heart, she sank on her knees. Her upraised eyes, her negligent but graceful attitude, the beaming thankfulness that lighted up her face. All these attain words. Heart of mine, thou imaginest ever, though thou cannot betray the celestial beauty of that child of light and love. I heard a step, a quick firm step, along the shady avenue. Soon I saw a cavalier, richly dressed and young, and, me thought, grateful to look on, advance. I hid myself yet closer. The youth approached. He paused beneath the window. She arose, and again, looking out, she saw him. And she said, I cannot know, at this distant time, I cannot record her terms of soft silver tenderness. To me they were spoken, but they were applied to by him. I will not go, he cried, hear where you have been, hear your memory glides like some heaven-visiting ghost. I will pass the long hours till we meet, never, my Juliet, again, day or night, to part. But do thou, my love, retire. The cold morn and fitful breeze will make thy cheek pale, and fill with languor thy love-lighted eyes. Ah, sweetest, could I press one kiss upon them? I could, me thinks, repose. And then he approached still nearer, and me thought he was about to clamber into her chamber. I had hesitated, not to terrify her. Now I was no longer master of myself. I rushed forward, I threw myself on him. I tore him away. I cried, oh loathsome and foul-shaped wretch. I need not repeat epithets, all tending as it appeared, to rail at a person I at present feel some partiality for. A shriek rose from Juliet's lips. I neither heard nor saw. I felt only my enemy, whose throat I grasped, and my dagger's hilt. He struggled but could not escape. At length, hoarsely, he breathed these words. Do strike home. Destroy this body. You will still live. May your life be long and merry. The descending dagger was arrested at the word, and he, feeling my hold relaxed, extricated himself and drew his sword. While the uproar in the house, and the flying of torches from one room to the other, showed that soon we should be separated, and I, oh, far better die, so that he did not survive, I cared not. In the midst of my frenzy there was much calculation. Full I might, and so that he did not survive. I cared not for the death blow I might deal against myself. While still therefore he thought I paused, and while I saw the villainous resolve to take advantage of my hesitation. In the sudden thrust he made at me, I threw myself on his sword, and at the same moment plunged my dagger with a true desperate aim in his side. We fell together, rolling over each other, and the tide of blood that flowed from the gaping wound of each mingled on the grass. More I know not, I fainted. Again I returned to life. Weak almost to death, I found myself stretched upon a bed. Juliet was kneeling beside it. Strange, my first broken request was for a mirror. I was so worn and ghastly that my poor girl hesitated as she told me afterwards. But, by the mass, I thought myself a right proper youth when I saw the dear reflection of my own well-known features. I confess it is a weakness, but I avow it. I do entertain a considerable affection for the countenance and limbs I behold, whenever I look at a glass, and have more mirrors in my house and consult them oftener than any beauty in Venice. Before you too much condemn me, permit me to say that no one better knows than I the value of his own body. No one, probably, except myself, ever having had it stolen from him. Incoherently I at first talked of the dwarf and his crimes, and reproached Juliet for her too easy admission of his love. She thought me raving, as well she might, and yet it was some time before I could prevail on myself to admit that the Guido whose penitence had won her back for me was myself, and while I cursed bitterly the monstrous dwarf, and blessed the well-directed blow that had deprived him of life, I suddenly checked myself when I heard her say, Our men, knowing that him whom she reviled was my very self. A little reflection taught me silence. A little practice enabled me to speak of that frightful night without any very excessive blunder. The wound I had given myself was no mockery of one. It was long before I recovered, and as the benevolent and generous Torella sat beside me, talking such wisdom as might win friends to repentance, and my own dear Juliet hovered near me, administering to my wants and cheering me by her smiles. The work of my bodily cure and mental reform went on together. I have never indeed wholly recovered my strength. My cheek is paler since, my person a little bent. Juliet sometimes ventures to elude bitterly to the malice that caused this change, but I kiss her on the moment and tell her all is for the best. I am a funder and more faithful husband, and true is this, but for that wound never had I called her mine. I did not revisit the seashore, nor seek for the fiend's treasure. Yet, while I ponder on the past, I often think, and my confessor was not backward in favouring the idea, that it might be a good rather than evil spirit sent by my guardian angel to show me the folly and misery of pride. So well at least did I learn this lesson, roughly taught as it was, that I am known now by all my friends and fellow citizens, by the name of Guido Ilcotes. End of Transformation by Mary Shelley Read by Alisha Wonsack in Melbourne, Australia