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 heaven and on earth. I heard many
things below the earth.
How, then am I mad? Harken! and observe how healthily, how calmly I can tell you the whole
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 min to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself
of that eye——-forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me Mad. Madmen know nothing! But you should have
seen me! You should 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 that 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 mans 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 – 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 watchs
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 the 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, and so I know 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 spring up in the bed, crying out-Whos 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 grief-oh,-no!-it was the low stifled .