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! 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. 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, 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.
