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 cun