THE TELL-TALE HEART

by Edgar Allan Poe

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 eve
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!"

-THE END-