Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the twelfth chapter of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

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

My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Wherever you listen to podcasts today, we'll be continuing Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

Chapter Twelve I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep.

I thought of the occurrences of the day.

What chiefly struck me was the gentle manners of these people, and I longed to join them, but dared not.

I remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous villagers, and resolved whatever course of conduct I might hereafter think it right to pursue, that for the present I would remain quietly in my hovel, watching and endeavoring to discover the motives which influence their actions.

The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun.

The young woman arranged the cottage and prepared the food, and the youth departed after the first meal.

This day was passed in the same routine as that which preceded it.

The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various laborious occupations within.

The old man, whom I soon perceived to be blind, employed his laser hours on the instrument or in contemplation.

Nothing could exceed the love and respect which the younger cottagers exhibited towards their venerable companion.

They performed towards him every little office of affection and duty with gentleness, and he rewarded them by his benevolent smiles.

They were not entirely happy.

The young man and his companion often went apart and appeared to weep.

I saw no cause for their unhappiness, but I was deeply affected by it.

If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange than I.

An imperfect and solitary being should be wretched.

Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy?

They possessed a delightful house, for such it was in my eyes and every luxury.

They had a fire to warm them when chill and delicious Vians were hungry.

They were dressed in excellent clothes, and still more they enjoyed one another's company and speech interchanging each day looks of affection and kindness.

What did their tears imply?

Did they really express pain?

I was at first unable to solve these questions, but perpetual attention and time explained to me many appearances which were at first enigmatic.

A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of the uneasiness of this amiable family.

It was poverty, and they suffered that evil in a very distressing degree.

Their nourishment consisted entirely of the vegetables of their garden and the milk of one cow, which gave very little during the winter, when its masters could scarcely procure food to support it.

They often, I believe, suffered the pangs of hunger very poignantly, especially the two younger cottagers.

For several times they placed food before the old man when they reserved none for themselves.

This trait of kindness moved me sensibly.

I had been accustomed during the night to steal a part of their store for my own consumption, but when I found that in doing this I inflicted pain on the cottagers, I abstained and satisfied myself with berries, nuts and roots which I gathered from a neighboring wood.

I discovered also another means through which I was unable to assist their labors.

I found that the youth spent a great part of each day in collecting wood for the family fire, and during the night I often took his tools, the youth of which I quickly discovered and brought home firing sufficient for the consumption of several days.

I remember the first time that I did this.

The young woman, when she opened the door in the morning, appeared greatly astonished on seeing a great pile of wood on the outside.

She uttered some words in a loud voice and the youth joined her, who also expressed surprise.

I observed with pleasure that he did not go to the forest that day, but spent it in repairing the cottage and cultivating the garden.

By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment.

I found that these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings to one another by articulate sounds.

I perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness in the minds and countenances of the hearers.

This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it.

But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose.

Their pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered not having any apparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference.

By great application, however, and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon.

In my hovel I discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of this course.

I learned and applied the words fire, milk, bread and wood.

I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves.

The youth and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, which was father.

The girl was called Sister or Agatha, and the youth Felix brother or son.

I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and was able to pronounce them.

I distinguished several other words without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as good, dearest, unhappy.

I spent the winter in this manner.

The gentle manners and beauty of the cottagers greatly endeared them to me.

When they were unhappy, I felt depressed.

When they rejoiced, I sympathized in their joys.

I saw few human beings besides them, and if any other happened to enter the cottage, the harsh manners and rude gait only enhanced me.

The superior accomplishments of my friends.

The old man, I could perceive often endeavored to encourage his children, as sometimes I found that he called them to cast off their melancholy.

He would talk in a cheerful accent, with an expression of goodness that bestowed pleasure even upon me.

Agatha listened with respect, her eyes sometimes filled with tears, which she endeavoured to wipe away unperceived.

But I generally found that her countenance and tone were more cheerful after having listened to the exhortations of her father.

It was not thus with Felix.

He was always the saddest of the group, and even to my unpracticed senses he appeared to have suffered more deeply than his friends.

But if his countenance was more sorrowful, his voice was more cheerful than that of his sister, especially when he addressed the old man.

I could mention innumerable instances which, although slight, marked the dispositions of these amiable cottagers.

In the midst of poverty and want, felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground.

Early in the morning, before she had risen, he cleared away the snow that obstructed her path to the milkhouse, drew water from the well and brought the wood from the outhouse, where, to his perpetual astonishment, he found his store always replenished by an invisible hand in the day.

I believe he worked sometimes for a neighboring farmer, because he often went forth and did not return until dinner, yet brought no wood with him.

At other times he worked in the garden, but there was little to do.

In the frosty season he read to the old man and Agatha.

This reading had puzzled me extremely at first, but by degrees I discovered that he uttered many of the same sounds when he read as when he talked.

I conjectured, therefore, that he found on the paper signs for speech which he understood and I ardently longed to comprehend these also.

But how was that possible when I did not even understand the sounds for which they stood as signs?

I improved, however sensibly in this science but not sufficiently to follow up any kind of conversation although I applied my whole mind to the endeavor.

For I easily perceived that although I eagerly longed to discover myself to the cottagers I ought not to make the attempt until I had first become master of their language which knowledge might enable me to make them overlook the deformity of my figure.

For with this also the contrast perpetually presented to my eyes had made me acquainted.

I had admired the perfect forms of my cottagers their grace, beauty and delicate complexions.

But how was I terrified when I viewed myself in a transparent pool?

At first I started back unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror and when I became fully convinced that I was in reality the monster that I am I was filled with the bitterest sensations of despondence and mortification.

Alas, I did not yet entirely know the fatal effects of this miserable deformity.

As the sun became warmer and a light of day longer the snow vanished and I beheld the bare trees and the black earth.

From this time Felix was more employed and the heartmoving indications of impending famine disappeared.

Their food, as I afterwards found, was coarse but it was wholesome and they procured a sufficiency of it.

Several new kinds of plants spring up in the garden which they dressed and these signs of comfort increased daily as the season advanced.

The old man, leaning on his son walked each day at noon when it did not rain as I found it was cold.

When the heavens poured forth its waters this frequently took place but a high wind quickly dried the earth and the season became far more pleasant than it had been.

My mode of life in my hovel was uniform.

During the morning I attended the motions of the cottagers and when they were dispersed in various occupations, I slept.

The remainder of the day was spent in observing my friends when they had retired to rest.

If there was any moon or the night with starlight I went into the woods and collected my own food and fuel for the cottage.

When I returned, as often as it was necessary I cleared their path from the snow and performed those offices that I had seen done by Felix.

I afterwards found that these laborers performed by an invisible hand greatly astonished them and once or twice I heard them on these occasions utter the words good spirit, wonderful.

But I did not then understand the signification of these terms.

My thoughts now became more active and I longed to discover the motives and feelings of these lovely creatures.

I was inquisitive to know why Felix appeared so miserable and Agatha so sad.

I thought, foolish wretch, that it might be in my power to restore happiness to these deserving people.

When I slept, or was absent the forms of the venerable blind father, the gentle Agatha, and the excellent Felix Flitted before me, I looked upon them as superior beings who would be the arbiters of my future destiny.

I formed in my imagination a thousand pictures of presenting myself to them and their reception of me.

I imagine that they would be disgusted until, by my gentle demeanor and facilitating words, I should first win their favor, and afterwards their love.

These thoughts exhilarated me and led me to apply with fresh arger to acquiring the art of language.

My organs were indeed harsh but supple, and although my voice was very unlike the soft music of their tones, yet I pronounced such words as I understood with tolerable ease.

It was as the a** and the lap dog.

Yet surely the gentle a**, whose intentions were affectionate, although his manners were rude, deserved better treatment than blows and execration.

The pleasant showers and genial warmth of spring greatly altered the aspect of the earth.

Men, who before this change seemed to have been hid in caves, dispersed themselves and were employed in various arts of cultivation.

The birds sang in more cheerful notes, and the leaves began to bud forth on the trees.

Happy, happy earth fit habitation for gods, which so short a time before, was bleak, damp and unwholesome.

My spirits were elevated by the enchanting appearance of nature.

The past was blotted from my memory, the present was tranquil, and a future gilded by bright rays of hope and anticipations of joy.

Thank you for joining Bite 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.

Don't forget to tag us on your social media posts at bite atotimebooks, and we hope to be able to feature you in this Saturday segment.

Check out the show notes or our website, Bite at a Time Books, for the links for our show.

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