The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe
Tags:
Prose
True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I
had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened
my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing
acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things
in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I
can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered
my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was
none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He
had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his
eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a
film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees
--very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus
rid myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know
nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I
proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I
went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week
before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his
door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening
sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no
light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to
see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so
that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my
whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his
bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was
well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously
(for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell
upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just
at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do
the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every
morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke
courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he
has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man,
indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while
he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually
cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did
mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my
sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there
I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my
secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard
me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I
drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness,
(for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew
that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on
steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when
my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed,
crying out --"Who's there?" I kept quite still and said nothing. For
a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him
lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done,
night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was
the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no!
--it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when
overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight,
when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with
its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew
what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew
that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had
turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been
trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself
--"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing
the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single
chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these
suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in
approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the
victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused
him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my
head within the room.
When I had waited a long time, very patiently,
without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little
crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily,
stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider,
shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open
--wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with
perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled
the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face
or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the
damned spot. And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but
over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull,
quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound
well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as
the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely
breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain
the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It
grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's
terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do
you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the
dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange
a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes
longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I
thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would
be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw
open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an
instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then
smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart
beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be
heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed
the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my
hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He
was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no
longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the
body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I
dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs. I then
took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all
between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly,
that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There
was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had
been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! When I had made an end
of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell
sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open
it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men,
who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A
shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play
had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they
(the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, --for what
had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in
a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors
all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to
his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the
enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them
here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my
perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed
the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced
them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they
chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and
wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still
they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued
and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but
it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise
was not within my ears. No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more
fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could
I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when
enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I
talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I
arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations;
but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor
to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the
men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I
raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it
upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew
louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was
it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they
suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I
thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything
was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles
no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder!
louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no
more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating
of his hideous heart!"
