Indeed It Was Long Before He Had the Heart to Make a Joke Again.
Hear "The Tell-Tale Heart" read aloud.
The Tell-Tale Centre
Truthful! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; merely why will you say that I am mad? The affliction had sharpened my senses — non destroyed — not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing astute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, and then, am I mad? Hearken! and notice how healthily — how calmly I tin can tell you the whole story.
Information technology is impossible to say how start the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, information technology haunted me twenty-four hour period and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the former man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no want. I think information technology was his middle! yes, information technology was this! I of his eyes resembled that of a vulture — a stake blueish 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.
At present this is the signal. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seenme. Y'all should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to piece of work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole calendar week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it — oh, so gently! And so, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, and then that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my caput. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly — very, very slowly, so that I might non disturb the old homo'due south sleep. Information technology took me an hour to identify my whole head inside the opening so far that I could meet him equally he lay upon his bed. Ha! — would a madman have been then wise equally this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously — oh, so charily — cautiously (for the hinges creaked) — I undid it just so much that a single thin ray savage upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights — every night simply at midnight — merely I found the eye always closed; and so information technology was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, simply his Evil Eye. And every forenoon, when the solar day broke, I went boldly into the bedroom, and spoke courageously to him, calling him past name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the dark. And so you lot meet he would have been a very profound old human being, indeed, to doubtable that every night, merely at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth nighttime I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's infinitesimal hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had Ifelt the extent of my own powers — of my sagacity. I could scarcely comprise my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, piffling by little, and he non even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the thought; and possibly he heard me; for he moved on the bed all of a sudden, every bit if startled. Now you may think that I drew dorsum — merely no. His room was every bit 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 meet the opening of the door, and I kept pushing information technology on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open up the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the former human being sprang up in the bed, crying out — "Who'southward there?"
I kept quite still and said zip. For a whole hour I did not motion a muscle, and in the concurrently I did not hear him prevarication down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; — just equally I have washed, night later night, hearkening to the decease watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was non a groan of hurting 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 dark, just at midnight, when all the globe slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew information technology well. I knew what the old homo felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at center. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the start 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, only could non. He had been maxim to himself — "Information technology is nothing but the current of air in the chimney — it is just a mouse crossing the flooring," or "it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain.All in vain; considering 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 — tofeel the presence of my caput inside 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 picayune cleft in the lantern. And then I opened it — you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily — until, at length a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.
It was open — wide, wide open — and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw information technology with perfect distinctness — all a dull blueish, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my basic; but I could see nothing else of the quondam homo's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.
And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over affectibility of the senses? — at present, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick audio, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knewthat sound well, besides. It was the chirapsia of the former man'southward eye. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
Merely even all the same I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the middle. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The one-time man'southward terrormust have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! — practise you lot mark me well? I take told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the expressionless hr of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that erstwhile house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood even so. But the chirapsia grew louder, louder! I thought the center must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me — the sound would be heard past a neighbor! The old homo'south hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once — in one case 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. Merely, for many minutes, the eye trounce on with a muffled sound. This, nonetheless, did not vex me; it would not exist heard through the wall. At length information technology ceased. The sometime man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yeah, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my mitt upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would problem me no more.
If nonetheless you retrieve me mad, you volition think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the darkening of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, only in silence. Offset of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the artillery and the legs.
I then took up three planks from the flooring of the bedchamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards and so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human being center — not evenhis — could have detected any thing wrong. At that place was zip to wash out — no stain of whatever kind — no blood-spot any. I had been besides wary for that. A tub had caught all — ha! ha!
When I had fabricated an end of these labors, information technology was four o 'clock — however night every bit 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 Iat present to fear? There entered iii men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, every bit officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police part, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled, — forwhat had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old homo, I mentioned, was absent in the state. I took my visitors all over the firm. I bade them search — searchwell. I led them, at length, tohis chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired themhere to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild brazenness of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. Mymanner 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 than distinct: — it continued and became more than singled-out: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it connected and gained definitiveness — until, at length, I found that the noise wasnot within my ears.
No dubiety I now grewvery pale; — but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased — and what could I do? It wasa depression, dull, quick sound — much such a audio every bit a lookout makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath — and yet the officers heard information technology not. I talked more than chop-chop — more vehemently; but the racket steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high fundamental and with tearing gesticulations; simply the noise steadily increased. Whywould they not be gone? I paced the flooring to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury past the observations of the men — just the noise steadily increased. Oh God! whatcould I do? I foamed — I raved — I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, simply the racket arose over all and continually increased. Information technology 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 annihilation was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could carry those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or dice! — and now — again! — hark! louder! louder! louder!louder! —
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — information technology is the beating of his hideous eye!"
Edgar Allan Poe
January 1843
Illustration by Harry Clarke
Source: https://poemuseum.org/the-tell-tale-heart/
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