Chapter 147

134 MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE out, in a voice choking with emotion, the incoherent words, “My mistress ! — my mistress ! — Poisoned ! — poisoned ! Oh, beautiful — oh, beautiful Aphrodite !” Bewildered, I flew to the ottoman, and endeavored to arouse the sleeper to a sense of the startling intelligence. But his limbs were rigid, his lips were livid, his lately beaming eyes were riveted in death . I staggered back towards the table, my hand fell upon a cracked and blackened goblet, and a consciousness of the entire and terrible truth flashed suddenly over my soul. THE TELL-TALE HEART 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 forever. Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen