When the ship landed, they went on to Paris. Victor soon found he had pushed himself too hard and needed rest before going any further.
His father cared for him tirelessly. But not knowing where the suffering came from, he looked for the wrong cures for an illness that could not be cured. He wanted his son to find some enjoyment in company.
Victor says he hated the faces of men, then corrects himself. No, not hated. They were his brothers, his fellow beings, and he felt drawn even to the least attractive of them. But he felt he had no right to join them. He had set loose among them an enemy who delighted in spilling their blood and hearing them groan.