Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twenty-third chapter of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

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Take a look in a book and let's see what we can find take a chapter by chapter, one by one at a time So many adventures and mountains we can climb Take it word for word, line by line we fight at a time.

Video welcome to Bite at a Time Books, where we read you your favorite classics one byte at a time.

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Wherever you listen to podcasts today, we'll be continuing Frankenstein by Mary Shelley chapter 23 It was 08:00 when we landed.

We walked for a short time on the shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn and contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods and mountains obscured in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.

The wind which had fallen in the south now rose with great violence in the west.

The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and was beginning to descend.

The cloud slept across it, swifter than the flight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that were beginning to rise.

Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.

It had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured the shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind.

I was anxious and watchful while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my bosom.

Every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell my life dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or that of my adversary was extinguished.

Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful silence, but there was something in my glance which communicated terror to her, and trembling, she asked, what is it that agitates you, my dear Victor?

What is it you fear?

Oh, peace, peace, my love, replied I.

This night and all will be safe, but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.

I passed an hour in this state of mind when suddenly I reflected how fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.

She left me and I continued some time walking up and down the passages of the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to my adversary.

But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning to conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the execution of his menaces, when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful scream.

It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired.

As I heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind.

My arms dropped, the motion of every muscle and fiber was suspended.

I could feel the blood trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs.

The state lasted but for an instant the scream was repeated and I rushed into the room.

Great God.

Why did I not then expire?

Why am I here to relate the destruction of the best hope in a purest creature on earth?

She was there, lifeless and inanimate thrown across the bed, her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair.

Everywhere I turned I see the same figure her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung by the murder on its bridal beer.

Could I behold this and live?

Alas, life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated.

For a moment only did I lose recollection.

I felt senseless on the ground.

When I recovered, I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn.

Their countenances expressed a breathless terror, but the horror of others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that oppressed me.

I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living so dear, so worthy.

She had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her and now, as she lay her head upon her arm and a handkerchief thrown across her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep.

I rushed towards her and embraced her with arger but the deadly languor and coldness of the limbs told me what I now held in my arms that ceased to be the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished.

The murderous mark of the fiend's grasp was on her neck and the breath had ceased to issue from her lips.

While I still hung over her in agony of despair, I happened to look up.

The windows of the room had before been darkened and I felt a kind of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the chamber.

The shutters had been thrown back and with a sensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most hideous and abhorred.

A grin was on the face of the monster he seemed to jeer as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife.

I rushed towards the window, and, drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired.

But he eluded me, leapt from his station, and, running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.

The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room.

I pointed to the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats.

Nets were cast, but in vain.

After passing several hours, we returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form conjured up by my fancy.

After having landed, they proceeded to search the country parties, going in different directions among the woods and vines.

I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from the house, but my head whirled round.

My steps were like those of a drunken man.

I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion.

A film covered my eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever.

In this state I was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had happened.

My eyes wandered around the room as if to seek something that I had lost.

After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the room where the corpse of my beloved lay.

There were women weeping around.

I hung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs.

All this time no distinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled to various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and their cause.

I was bewildered in a cloud of wonder and horror the death of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly of my wife.

Even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend.

My father, even now, might be writhing under his grasp and earnest might be dead at his feet.

This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action.

I started up and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.

There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake.

But the wind was unfavorable, and the rain fell in torrents.

However, it was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night.

I hired men to row and took an ore myself, for I had always experienced relief from mental torment and bodily exercise.

But the overflowing misery I now felt and the excess of agitation that I endured rendered me incapable of any exertion.

I threw down the oar, and, leaning my head upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose.

If I looked up, I saw scenes which were familiar to me in a happier time, and which I had contemplated.

But the day before, in the company of her who was now but a shadow and a recollection deer streamed from my eyes.

The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the waters as they had done a few hours before.

They had then been observed by Elizabeth.

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.

The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, but nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before.

A fiend had snatched from me every hope of future happiness.

No creature had ever been so miserable as I was so frightful.

An event is single in the history of man, but why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed this last overwhelming event?

Mine has been a tale of horrors.

I have reached their acme, and what I must now relate can be but tedious to.

You know that one by one my friends were snatched away.

I was left desolate.

My own strength is exhausted, and I must tell in a few words what remains of my hideous narration.

I arrived at Geneva.

My father and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk under the tidings that I bore.

I see him now, excellent and venerable old man.

His eyes wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their delight.

His Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on with all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life, having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain cursed.

Cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and doomed him to waste and wretchedness.

He could not live under the hoars that were accumulated around him.

The springs of existence suddenly gave way.

He was unable to rise from his bed, and in a few days he died in my arms.

What then became of me I know not.

I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me.

Sometimes, indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant veils with the friends of my youth.

But I awoke and found myself in a dungeon.

Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation and was then released from my prison, for they called me mad.

And during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.

Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me.

Had I not, as I awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge?

As the memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their cause.

The monster whom I had created, the miserable demon who I had sent abroad into the world for my destruction.

I was possessed by a maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal revenge on his cursed head.

Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes.

I began to reflect on the best means of securing him.

And for this purpose, about a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town, and told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew the destroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his whole authority for the apprehension of the murderer.

The magistrate listened to me with attention and kindness.

Be assured, sir, said he, no pains or exertions on my part shall be spared to discover the villain.

I thank you, replied I.

Listen, therefore, to the deposition that I have to make.

It is indeed a tale so strange that I should fear you would not credit it were there not something in truth which, however wonderful, forces conviction.

The story is too connected to be mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood.

My manner, as I thus addressed him, was impressive, but calm.

I had formed in my own heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purpose quieted my agony, and for an interval reconciled me to life.

I now related my history briefly, but with firmness and precision, marking the dates with accuracy, and never deviating into invective or exclamation.

The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I continued, he became more attentive and interested.

I saw him sometimes shudder with horror at others.

A lively surprise, unmingled with disbelief, was painted on his countenance.

When I had concluded my narration, I said, this is the being whom I accuse, and for whose seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power.

It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelings of a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions.

On this occasion, this address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my own auditor.

He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events.

But when he was called upon to act officially, in consequence, the whole tide of his incredulity returned.

He, however, answered mildly, I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, but the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance.

Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice, and inhabit caves and DINs where no man would venture to intrude?

Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he has wondered, or what region he may now inhabit.

I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the Chamois, and destroyed as a beast of prey.

But I perceive your thoughts.

You do not credit my narrative, and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the punishment which is his desert.

As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes.

The magistrate was intimidated.

You are mistaken, said he.

I will exert myself, and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes.

But I fear from what you have yourself described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable.

And thus, while every proper measure is pursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment.

That cannot be.

But all that I can say will be of little avail.

My revenge is of no moment to you.

Yet while I allow it to be a vice, I confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul.

My rage is unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer whom I've turned loose upon society still exists.

You refuse my just demand?

I have but one resource and I devote myself either in my life or death to his destruction.

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this.

There was a frenzy in my manner and something I doubt not of that haughty fierceness which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed.

But to a Genevan magistrate whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of madness.

He endeavoured to soothe me as a nursed as a child, and reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium man.

I cried, how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom sees.

You know not what it is you say.

I broke from the house, angry and disturbed, and retired to meditate on some other mode of action.

Thank you for joining Byte at a Time Books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Frankenstein.

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To hang out with other classic novelloving friends.

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Music.

Take it.

Chapter One.

Chapter one.