Chapter 10

I wandered through the valley the next day. I stopped by the start of the Arveiron river, coming from a glacier moving slowly down the mountains to block the valley. Huge mountain walls stood before me; the glacier's icy edge loomed above; a few broken pines lay scattered; only the noise of rushing water and falling ice chunks, the thunderous sound of avalanches, and the cracking of ice breaking under nature's unchanging laws broke the deep silence of this majestic natural temple. These grand scenes comforted me deeply, lifted my spirits from petty concerns, and, though they didn't take away my grief, they calmed it. They also distracted me from the thoughts that had consumed me for the past month. That night, I slept surrounded by visions of the magnificent sights I'd seen during the day.

The next morning, that uplifting spirit was gone, replaced by a heavy sadness as I woke up. It was raining hard, and thick mists hid the mountain peaks, so I couldn't see my mighty mountain friends. But I was determined to find them, rain and storm be damned. I got on my mule, aiming to reach Montanvert's peak. I remembered how awestruck I felt seeing the moving glacier for the first time. It filled me with a sense of sublime joy that lifted my soul above the mundane world. The majestic in nature always made me forget life's fleeting worries. I decided to go alone, knowing the way well and preferring the solitude to enhance the scene's grandeur.

The climb was steep, but the winding path made it manageable. It was a desolately beautiful scene, marked by the wreckage of winter avalanches—broken trees, some completely destroyed, others hanging precariously. Higher up, the path crossed snow-filled ravines, with stones rolling down from above, one particularly dangerous because a loud noise could trigger a deadly avalanche. The sparse, somber pines added to the scene's severity. Looking down at the valley, I saw vast mists rising and wrapping around the cloud-hidden mountain tops, while the rain added to my melancholy.

Why do we, who have more sensitive feelings than animals, only suffer more? If we only desired food, drink, and shelter, we might be nearly free. But we are swayed by every slight, every word.

Sleep can be poisoned by a dream; a single thought can ruin a day. Whether we're happy or sad, nothing lasts but change.

Reaching the summit near noon, I sat watching the ice sea and mountains, covered in mist. Then the wind cleared the mist, and I walked down to the glacier. Crossing it took nearly two hours; it was uneven, full of deep cracks. From where I stood, Montanvert and Mont Blanc were visible in all their majesty. This grand view filled my heart with a kind of joy, and I wished for peace from the spirits of nature or to join them, away from life's joys.

Suddenly, I saw a figure approaching quickly, jumping easily over the glacier's crevices, larger than any man. A mix of fear and awe struck me, but the cold air quickly revived me. It was the creature I had made, looking at me with a mix of pain, hate, and ugliness so intense it was barely bearable. Rage and horror filled me, and I resolved to confront him.

"Devil," I yelled, "do you dare come near me? Do you not fear my revenge?" But he expected my anger, lamenting his own misery and arguing that my hate towards him, his creator, was unfair. He claimed he could live in peace with humanity if I agreed to his terms, or else he would continue his violence.

I was enraged, threatening to destroy him for his murders. Yet he pleaded for understanding, claiming his loneliness and misery drove him to his current state. He argued for his right to happiness, to be virtuous again.

I refused to listen, seeing no common ground between us. He begged, recounting his loneliness and suffering, and pointed out the hypocrisy of human justice. He asked me to listen to his story before deciding his fate, suggesting we could still avoid further misery.

Moved by curiosity and compassion, and realizing my responsibilities as his creator, I agreed to hear him out. We crossed the glacier to a hut, where, despite my heavy heart, I prepared to listen to his tale, hoping to understand him better and perhaps find a way to make things right.