But she was innocent.

I know, I feel she was innocent; you are of the same opinion, and that confirms me.
Alas! Victor, when falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness?
I feel as if I were walking on the edge of a precipice, towards which thousands are crowding and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss.

William and Justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes; he walks about the world free, and perhaps respected.

But even if I were condemned to suffer on the scaffold for the same crimes, I would not change places with such a wretch." I listened to this discourse with the extremest agony.

I, not in deed, but in effect, was the true murderer.