Collection 2: "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night.

You should have seen how wisely I proceeded—with what caution—with what foresight—with what dissimulation I went to work!

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.

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.

Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers—of my sagacity.

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.

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 increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still.

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.

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.

There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police.

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 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.

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.

They heard!—they suspected!—they knew!—they were making a mockery of my horror!

Anything was more tolerable than this derision!

I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer!

I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks! here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!"