The Tell-Tale Heart
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! One of his eyes resembled that 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 for ever.
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 so
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 had 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 the 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 over-charged 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 has 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
single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from 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 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 now have I not told you that
what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?
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 eye. 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.
I 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 anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out
-- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for
that.
When I had made an end of these labours, 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: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued
and gained definitiveness -- 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. O 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!"
Edgar Allen Poe