APDL Eductation Resources/APDL Eductation Resources.iso/text/authors/poe/telltaleht/TELLTALEHT

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Internet Wiretap Edition of

THE TELL-TALE HEART by EDGAR ALLAN POE

From "The Works of Edgar Allan Poe: Tales Vol I",
J. B. Lippincott Co, Copyright 1895.

This text is placed into the Public Domain (May 1993).


        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 ob- serve 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. Mad- men 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 dis- turb 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 in- quiring how he had passed the night. So you see he
would have been a very profound old man, in- deed, 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 fasten- ing, 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 sup- positions; 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, al- though
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 distinct- ness -- 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 mis- take 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 de- tected
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 con- vinced 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 dis- tinct: 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 plea- santly, 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!"

END.