The Tell-Tale Heart
by Edgar Allan Poe
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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!"