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        The
        Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe, 1843  
         (* indicates notes at
        end) Berkoff performs Tell-Tale 
        Heart as part of his One Man show. 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 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. 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 inquiring how he has 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 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 fastening, and the old man
        sprang up in 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 overcharged 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 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 was open- wide, wide open- and I grew furious as I
        gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness- 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 have I not told you that what you mistake for madness
        is but over-acuteness of the sense?- 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 eve. 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. First of all I dismembered the
        corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
 
 I then 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 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. A tub had caught
        all- ha! ha!
 
 When I had made an end of these labors, 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 hereto 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 convinced
        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 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.
 
 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. Oh 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
        pleasantly, 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!"
    
         
 Notes:   
            
                | * | dissimulation : deception |  
                | * | scantling: floorboards. In
                Berkoff's performance he hesitates as if
                searching for the right word, before using this
                very obscure word |  |  |