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. 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. Now you may think that I drew back - but no.
I fairly chuckled at the idea and perhaps he heard me for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. 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 could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers - of my sagacity. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. How, then, am I mad? Harken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. 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. Art is long and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, through stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
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