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作者: Mary Shelley

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No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder
of the night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I
did not feel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was
busy in scenes of evil and despair. I considered the being whom I
had cast among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to
effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had now
done, nearly in the light of my own vampire, my own spirit let
loose from the grave, and forced to destroy all that was dear to
me.

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