The dad sends Frankenstein a letter telling him how his brother has been murdered so Frankenstein feels he must return home.
“my dear Victor, you have probably waited impatiently for a letter to fix the date of your return to us…William is dead!”
He goes back to Geneva and gets trapped in the outskirts of the town in the forest. There, he spotted the monster and becomes convinced it must’ve killed William.
“I stood fixed, gazing intently: I could not be mistaken…its gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy daemon, to whom I had given life…Could he be the murderer of my brother?”
Frankenstein is informed by his family that Justine was proven to be William’s killer but Frankenstein refuses to believe this, he is sure it was his monster.
“Justine Moritz! Poor, poor girl, is she the accused? But it is wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believes it, surely, Ernest?…You are all mistaken; I know the murderer. Justine, poor, good Justine, is innocent.”
Justine was now dead and Frankenstein feels guilty because he still believes she wasn’t the killer, the monster was. The monster that he had created. Therefore Frankenstein feels as if he has put this onto Justine, when in fact, it is he who should be punished.
“Justine died, she rested, and I was alive. The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart which nothing could remove.”
Frankenstein would go out on the water to get away, when his family wasn’t around. This is when he let his emotions out, so much so that he would have some suicidal thoughts. However, he then thought about what he would be leaving behind and realised that is not the way to go.
“often, I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities forever.”
Victor Frankenstein decides to leave home and revisit his childhood holiday destination, Chamounix. He used this as an escape from the events back home, of which he couldn’t always cope with.
“My wanderings were directed towards the valley of Chamounix. I had visited it frequently during my boyhood. Six years had passed since then: I was a wreck, but nought had changed in those savage and enduring scenes.”