Mr. Thiesmeyers
English III American Literature
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The Tell Tale Heart
The Tell Tale Heart
Edgar
Allan Poe
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[2]
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[3],
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[4].
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[5]
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[6] 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 has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions[7];
but he had found all in vain.
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[9] 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 overacuteness
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[10]
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[11]
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
took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all
between the scantlings[12].
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 bloodspot 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[13]
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
"Villains!"
I shrieked, "dissemble[18]
no more! I admit the deed! tear up the planks! here, here! it is the
beating of his hideous heart!"
Copyright thiesmeyer.net 2014
[1] Hearken v. listen
[2] Fancy v. to think or imagine
[3] Dissimulation n. the concealment of ones
thoughts or feelings
[4] Sagacity n. cleverness
[5] Pitch n. any of certain bitumens
(tar or asphalt)
[6] Stifled v. subdued or muffled
[7] Suppositions n. an assumption or hypothesis
[8] Enveloped v. wrapped around or covered
[9] Crevice n. a crack or gap (opening)
[10] Refrained v. to stop oneself from doing
something
[11] Vex v. trouble
[12] Scantlings n. framing or structural timbers or
stonework
[13] Repose v. to rest or lay
[14] Vehemently adv. Passionately or intensely
[15] Trifles n. things of little value/importance
[16] Gesticulations n. dramatic gestures (of the body
to emphasize speech)
[17] Derision n. mockery or ridicule
[18] Dissemble v. to mislead or pretend