Act I, Scene V
SCENE FIVE.
-- The heart of a gloomy and intricate forest. Tremendous
storm, thunder, lightning, rain, &c.
Enter RITZBERG and EMMELINE, bearing the child,
R.
Emme.
The thunder's awful voice, and the fierce tumult of the
wildly-raging storm have drowned thy plaintive wailings, my poor
babe, and thou art hushed to silence. Sleep on, my darling, let
thy mother's throbbing bosom shelter thee. We shall find him
soon; yes, I am sure we shall. And when he sees thy ruddy smiling
cheek, and marks his Emmeline's wan and haggard features, his
heart will turn to us, he will again be all our own.
Ritz.
I don't believe a word of it. Talk of his heart, indeed, he has
no heart; if ever he had any, it has evaporated in the fumes of
his diabolical preparations. He love and protect you! all his
affections are in the bottom of a crucible; and in the wild
chimeras of his science, and the dreams of his mad ambition, all
his human feelings are lost and annihilated.
Emme.
Oh, no, my father: the enthusiasm of knowledge, the applauses of
the powerful, may, for a time, have weaned him from us, but my
own kind, gentle Frankenstein, can never be inhuman.
Ritz.
Can't he? Well, I don't know what you may call it, but to deceive
and trepan a young, innocent, confiding creature, as you were,
and to leave you and your child to poverty and want, whilst he
went rambling in the train of a prince, after his own devilish
devices; if that is not inhuman, I don't know what is.
Emme.
Ah, my father, I have heard that the Prince del Piombino has an
estate in this beautiful island; that he has attached to his
household a wonderful philosopher -- I am confident 'tis he, and
oh! my heart tells me that he will shortly bless us with his
returning love.
Ritz.
Yes, and with this fine tale, and because I could not bear to see
you pining away in hopeless sorrow, have you lured me to quit my
quiet, peaceful abode in Germany, and come wandering over here to
Sicily. And to-day you must march out on a pretty wild-goose
chase, to endeavour {12} to trace him in the household of this
prince, till we have lost our way in the mazes of this forest,
and can't trace a path back again to the hovel I have hired. And
it's my belief, if you found him in the prince's palace, you
would be driven away from the gate like a common beggar.
Emme.
Oh, say not so, my father; do not destroy my hope, for in that
consists the little strength that now remains to me. (storm
rages furiously.)
Ritz.
And a pretty night this for a young, delicate creature like you,
with your helpless infant, to be out in. Curses, a thousand
curses on the villain!
Emme.
Oh, no, my father, no! Do not curse him. Curse not the husband of
your Emmeline, the father of her child!
Ritz.
Well, well, I won't -- the good-for-nothing vagabond! I daren't
stir a step in this plaguy forest, for the storm keeps such a
beautiful hubbub about us, for fear of straying further out of
the way; and I am sure you have no strength to waste. But here, I
have it. You stay here, exactly where I leave you; give me the
child, for you must be tired of carrying it, and I'll endeavour
to find the path. When I have traced it, I'll return for you.
There, stay here, just under this tree, it will afford a partial
shelter. I warrant me, that with the assistance of the lightning,
which keeps flashing so merrily, I shall soon discover the path.
I think I've got an inkling of it now. (takes the child from
EMMELINE, and goes out as if endeavouring to trace the path, L.
U. E.)
Emme.
My spirits fail me, and my strength is exhausted. Whilst I bore
the child, Nature gave me powers, and I could not sink beneath
the grateful burthen. (thunder) Ah, what a peal was there!
Heaven itself joins in the persecution of the hapless Emmeline.
Father, father! come to me! I sink, I die! Oh Frank!
Frankenstein! Frankenstein (she falls on the ground -- the
storm still continues to rage. The MONSTER enters in alarm and
wonder, stares wildly about him, at length perceives EMMELINE
extended on the ground -- is struck with wonder, approaches and
raises her, is filled with admiration, expresses that the rain
occasions inconvenience, and that the lightning is dreadful, his
pity for EMMELINE being exposed to it, his wish to procure her
shelter -- at length takes her up in his arms, and bears her off,
R.)
Re-enter RITZBERG, with the child, L. U.
E.
Ritz.
Come, Emmeline, I think I have found it at last, and we shall be
snug at home before the thunder can give {13} another growl at
us. (perceives that she is gone) Merciful heaven! not
here! Where can she be gone? Surely no danger can have approached
her. She has wandered on, endeavouring to overtake me, and has
mistaken the path, and so increased our troubles. Imprudent girl!
Emmeline, my child, my girl, my Emmeline.
(Exit with the child, R., calling aloud.
Act
Scene
