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Oh! When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the daemon,

allow me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet

live? If I do, swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape,

that you will seek him and satisfy my vengeance in his death. And

do I dare to ask of you to undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the

hardships that I have undergone? No; I am not so selfish. Yet,

when I am dead, if he should appear, if the ministers of

vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he shall not

live-swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated woes and

survive to add to the list of his dark crimes. He is eloquent and

persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; but

trust him not. His soul is as hellish as his form, full of

treachery and fiend-like malice. Hear him not; call on the names

of William, Justine, Clerval, Elizabeth, my father, and of the

wretched Victor, and thrust your sword into his heart. I will

hover near and direct the steel aright.