I recovered, and here I am now, eastwardly crossing the Alps at night, knee-deep in snow, wrapped up in my long coat, freezing...

Some gentlefolk in the Duch de Coeur, and Lord Byron, Count of Loredan have offered me friendship...and I accepted, however hesitantly. For the first time in years, I have friends. I had forgotten what a warm feeling it is.I may go back to them, when my quest is over...If I survive, that is.

For them and for Dr Panacek, who have shown their understanding, I will tell my story.

My father is an Officer in the English Army.He upgraded, step by step, thanks to his sole merits at war, fom Ensign to Lieutenant, Captain, Major, Colonel then General, and was subsequently appointed Lieutenant-General of one of our Dominions.

He was a grand man, physically as well as in his behavior.

He was a good husband too, and a perfect father, though he was not always with us being off to the battlegrounds all too often.When he would come back home to our Cornwall Mansion,he would take great care of his family, and give all his attention to his children's education, especially mine, as I was the first born.

In great detail he would tell us of his victories, of the grandeur of England, he would instill into me how to behave like a man in all circumstances, advise me in my readings, then discuss them.He would laugh with us all by the fireplace, in the waning hours of the day.

He would take me hunting foxes,teach me how to improve my fencing, and I would accompany him for long rides in the countryside.

Ahh- how i recall those blissful days, when we wandered on horseback in the hills' greenery, or along the rocky shores, with the wind in our hair!

I was in my late teens, then, and he was my Idol.

He was on a short list, on the desk of King George III,to be appointed Lieutenant-General of our Army in India, such a great honor and responsibility.He planned to organize a social gathering in our Mansion, and invited many Courtiers of London, to support his claim to this honor.

It was a beautiful summer day, our garden was in bloom, and how flattering it was to see so many Ladies and Gentlemen, in their resplendent attire, coming and going between the trees and flowers, listening to the music of our village band, and chatting enthusiastically! By the end of day, as the sun slowly set, gloriously painting our garden hues of red, I stood by my Mother, and looked at my father in the distance, encircled by Government Dignitaries, discussing his future.

Suddenly, a man removed himself from the crowd, and adressed my father rudely. I was facing the sunset, and therefore could not see clearly his face.He insulted my begetter, calling him a butcher and an assassin, a stain on England's repute and honor.

My father was so surprised at first, but soon showed signs of a terrible anger I was not accustomed to witnessing.I heard him say "You! YOU!" ( as if he knew this man) " You will have to pay for what you said and did!", and he unsheathed his sword.The Stranger and my father set themselves to "en garde" position, as the people around them stepped back.

My Papa was a tall and powerful man, but had become somewhat portly as the years had passed.The Stranger was moving faster than he, and the first assaults by my father did not reach his opponent.

The unknown man then attacked for the first time, and a swift move of his sword tore off the military medals worn on my father's chest. In a second move, he wrapped his blade around my Dad's, and with a rapid twist of the wrist, disarmed him: his epee fell on the ground.

The Stranger pointed his weapon at my father's throat, and all attendants dropped their jaws and uttered a "Aaah!" of despair. "Take it back", the man said.

My heart was aching to see my Papa so humiliated.

All the following assaults by my father, driven by an obvious rage, were in vain. Finally, the Stranger tried a very powerful attack towards my Papa's heart , which was parried in part, but the sword was only deflected and penetrated deeply into my father's groin.

I saw him falling down, as a flow of blood tainted his pants.The man was standing above him, moving his blade to adjust a final and lethal blow.My mother and I shouted with all the power of our lungs a piercing" No-oo!"

The man seemed to hesitate for a short while -which seemed an eternity- and then dropped his sword, ran at full speed, jumped on a horse, and disappeared from view, amid a tumult of cries and shouts.

My Papa was brought into his bedroom, and the Family Physician, who happened to be in attendance, administrated first aid.The celebration was over, and the guests dispersed, many of them not even bidding farewell, nor asking news about my father's health.

It was, for my father and our family, the beginning of the end.He suffered a severe injury, from which he never recovered completely.He spent most of his time laying in his bed, his mood changed: he became a gloomy, despondent man.

At the Court of King George, he fell into disgrace:he was not granted the Army leadership in India.All our friends and neighbors seemed suddenly to have major reasons to decline our invitations to our Mansion, or to our London house.

Papa lost his patience, he was irritated all the time.My mother, who was all sweetness,tried to soothe and help him, but he rejected her, and their children as well.He was not anymore the man i had idolized.

My mother's heart was broken, and she fell ill. Less than one year later, she died of grief.

My carefree days of youth were over. I was entering manhood the hard way.An irrepressible wave of hate submerged my soul, taking it hostage. We sold our London house, and I requested my aunt to keep the Mansion, and take care of my father, brothers and sisters.One dull grey autumn morning, i left this once happy and now distressed home, and began my search for the Stranger.

I knew it would be a very lenghty and difficult quest.I had no clues. I did not know the man's name, I had not seen his face. All I had was the memory of an observation: a somehow peculiar hold on his sword, and something in his fencing manner...

I knew I would have to knock at hundreds of doors, cover thousands of miles, ask millions of questions. I knew I would be a homeless man of solitude, and a foreigner everywhere.There was no place left for friends nor love in my life, contrary to all youg men of my age. I knew I would have much to abide, sleeping in haystacks and getting burnt by the summer sun, hiding in barns, freezing to near death in winter, obliged to beg for food, to drink water crouching in brooks like an animal, being stoned and chased out of villages, - and i knew i was risking my life.

I knew all this, but my hate had the upper hand. I HAD TO DO IT! It was the only meaning my life could have now,so that my father could be revenged, so that he could be proud of his son, and perhaps become again the same man he once was.

And now I go, forever onwards, crossing the Alps at night in an easterly direction, wrapped up in my long coat and knee-deep in snow,freezing... Wolves are howling in the near distance, but they don't threaten me: they sense I am a wolf among the wolves.