Chapter 962:

The pistol report brought a group of people into the room. I pointed to the place where he disappeared, and we took a boat along the track. The net was cast, but in vain. After a few hours, we had no hope of returning, and most of my companions believed this was the form conceived by my fantasy. After landing, they began to search the country, and the gathering among the woods and vines moved in different directions.
I tried to accompany them to a place not far from the house, but my head turned, my steps were like those of a drunkard, and I was finally exhausted. A movie covered my eyes and my skin was dry from fever. In this state, I was carried back to the bed, hardly knowing what happened. My eyes wandered around the room, as if looking for something lost.
After a while, I got up, as if out of instinct, crawled into the room where my beloved body was. There are women crying. I hung on it, putting sad tears with their tears; during this time, no unique thoughts appeared in my mind, but my thoughts were flooded, reflecting my misfortune and confusion. Its cause. What puzzles me is that it is full of surprise and terror. William’s death, Justin’s death sentence, Clever’s murder, and my wife’s death; even at that moment, I didn’t know that my only remaining friends were immune from the evil. My father may even be twisting under his grip now, and Ernest may die at his feet. This thought made me shudder and reminded me of action. I started and determined to return to Geneva at all possible speed.
There are no horses to purchase. I must return by the lake. But the wind was not good and the rain poured down. However, this is hardly morning, and I may have reason to hope to arrive at night. I hire someone to row a boat and paddle myself, because I have been free from mental torture during physical exercise. However, I am now feeling overflowing with suffering and the overexcitement I endure makes me unable to bear any fatigue. I dropped the oar and leaned my head on my hand, giving way to every depressing thought that appeared. If I look up, I will see scenes familiar to me in my happier time. I thought about these scenes, but the day before, she was in her company. Now she is just a shadow and memory. Tears flowed from my eyes. The rain stopped for a moment, and I watched a few hours ago when fish were playing in the water. Elizabeth had observed them. Nothing is more painful than this huge and sudden change. The sun may be shining, or the clouds may come down, but to me there is nothing like the previous day. A demon took away all hope of my future happiness. There has never been a painful person like me. Such a terrible event is single in human history.
But why should I pay attention to events after the last overwhelming event? My story has always been a horror story. I have reached their peak, and the people I have to contact now may be boring for you. Knowing that my friend was taken away by someone; I was desolate. My own strength is exhausted, and I must say in a few words what is left of my ugly narrative.
I arrived in Geneva. My father and Ernest still live, but the former sinks into my contemplation. I see him now, he is an excellent and respectable old man! His eyes were empty, because they lost their charm and joy-his Elizabeth is more than his daughter, he fell in love with all the feelings that a man felt, in the decline of life, there are few feelings, but more persistent and serious remaining people. The cursed, cursed devil made his gray hair miserable, destined to waste in misfortune! He couldn't live in the fear accumulated around him; the existing spring suddenly gave way; he couldn't get up from the bed, and died in my arms a few days later.
What happened to me? I don't know; I am unconscious, the chains and darkness are the only things that weigh on me. Sometimes, indeed, I dreamed that my young friends and I were wandering in blossoming meadows and pleasant valleys, but I woke up and found myself in a dungeon. Melancholy followed, but to a certain extent, I had a clear understanding of my suffering and situation, and then I was released from prison. Because they drive me crazy, and as far as I know, a separate cell has been my residence for many months.
But if I don’t wake up at the same time to revenge as I awakened, freedom is a useless gift to me. When I miss the misfortunes of the past, I began to reflect on their reasons-the monsters I created, the demon I sent out to destroy my pain. When I thought of him, I was fascinated by a crazy anger, and eagerly and fervently prayed that I could let him grasp, send a great signal to his cursed head and take revenge.
My hatred is not confined to useless wishes for a long time. I began to think about the best way to ensure his safety. For this reason, about a month after my release, I repaired a criminal judge in the town and told him that I was going to charge, knowing that my family was a destroyer, and asked him to go all out. The power to arrest the murderer.
The county magistrate listened attentively to my opinion. "Sir, please rest assured," he said, "I will try my best to find the villain."
"I thank you." I replied. "So please listen to the statement I have to make. Indeed, this is a very strange story, and I am afraid that you will not believe it. If there is no truth, no matter how wonderful, you can strengthen your faith. This story is too fictitious to be mistaken. I think it is a dream, and I have no false motives." My attitude when speaking to him was impressive, but calm. Deep down in my heart, I was determined to kill the destroyer to death. This purpose calmed my pain for a while and restored me to life. Now, I tell my history briefly, but firmly and accurately, marking the date accurately, and never deviating from the debate or exclamation mark.
The county magistrate seemed completely unbelievable at first, but as I continued, he became more attentive and interested. I saw him shaking sometimes in horror. In front of others, his face painted an incredibly vivid surprise.
When I ended the narration, I said: "This is the person I blame. I will do my best for his seizure and punishment. As a magistrate, this is your responsibility. I believe and hope that you feel as a man. I will not resist because of this execution of his duties."
This address has greatly changed the face of my own auditor. When he heard my story, he was full of doubts about spiritual and supernatural events. But when he was asked to take formal action, his wind of suspicion returned. However, he replied gently: "In your pursuit, I am willing to provide you with all help, but the person you are talking to seems to have the power to challenge all my efforts. Who can follow a kind of traversal The ice sea is not an animal that lives in caves and dens that no one dares to break into? Besides, months have passed since the crime, and no one can guess where he wandered or where he might live now."
"I have no doubt that he is hovering near where I live. If he does take refuge in the Alps, he might be hunted like an antelope and destroyed as a beast. But I understand what you think; you won't believe me Narrative, and he does not intend to punish my enemy with his desert."
When I speak, anger sparkles in my eyes. The county magistrate was frightened. "You were wrong," he said. "I will do my best. If I have the ability to catch this monster, please rest assured that he will be punished according to the crime. But I am worried that from the perspective of your own description of his property, it will become uncut. Practical; therefore, while taking all appropriate measures, you should be determined to be disappointed."
"That is impossible; but I can only say that it is useless. My revenge is urgent for you. However, although I allow it to become a vice, I admit that it is the devouring of my soul and the only passion. When I reflect My anger is unbelievable when the killer who I lost control of the society still exists. You reject my request for justice; I have only one resource. Whether it is life or death, I am committed to destroying him."
I said so, shaking with excitement. My mannerisms are fanatical, and it is said that the old martyrs possess that arrogant ferocity. I have no doubt about it. But for a Geneva magistrate, his thoughts are dominated by dedication and heroism, but his thoughts are far beyond other thoughts. This kind of ideological improvement seems to a large extent crazy. He tried to soothe me like a nurse, soothe me, and then reverted to a delusional illness.
I yelled: "Man, be proud of your wisdom! Stop; you don't know what you are talking about."
I broke free from the house because of anger and anxiety, and retired to contemplate some other way of action.
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