what does the narrator say that his disease has done to him

Hear "The Tell-Tale Heart" read aloud.

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 incommunicable to say how commencement the idea entered my brain; simply one time conceived, information technology haunted me twenty-four hours and night. Object in that location was none. Passion at that place was none. I loved the old human. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! aye, it was this! One of his optics resembled that of a vulture — a pale blue eye, with a film over information technology. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees — very gradually — I made up my mind to have the life of the sometime homo, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the signal. Yous fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. Just you should have seenme. Yous should accept seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the sometime homo 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, and so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my caput, I put in a night lantern, all closed, airtight, and then that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would accept 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 identify my whole caput within the opening so far that I could meet him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! — would a madman take been so wise as this? And and so, when my caput was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously — oh, so cautiously — cautiously (for the hinges creaked) — I undid information technology just and then much that a single thin ray roughshod upon the vulture middle. And this I did for 7 long nights — every night just at midnight — only I found the eye always closed; and so it was incommunicable to exercise the work; for information technology was not the old man who vexed me, merely his Evil Centre. And every forenoon, when the solar 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 had passed the nighttime. And so you see he would take been a very profound former man, indeed, to suspect that every night, simply at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the 8th night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A lookout man's infinitesimal hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had Ifelt the extent of my own powers — of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To call up that there I was, opening the door, piddling past 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 yous may retrieve that I drew back — but no. His room was as blackness as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) then I knew that he could not encounter the opening of the door, and I kept pushing information technology 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 homo sprang up in the bed, crying out — "Who'southward there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole 60 minutes I did not motion a muscle, and in the concurrently I did not hear him lie downward. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; — just as I have done, night later on night, hearkening to the decease watches in the wall.

Before long I heard a slight groan, and I knew information technology was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief — oh, no! — information technology was the low stifled sound that arises from the lesser of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, but at midnight, when all the world slept, information technology has welled up from my ain bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old homo felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at centre. I knew that he had been lying awake e'er since the first slight racket, 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 nix but the wind in the chimney — it is just a mouse crossing the floor," or "it is only a cricket which has made a unmarried chirp." Yes, he has been trying to condolement himself with these suppositions: but he had establish all in vain.All in vain; considering Expiry, in budgeted him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And information technology was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel — although he neither saw nor heard — toexperience the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie downwardly, I resolved to open a little — a very, very picayune fissure in the lantern. And then I opened it — you lot cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily — until, at length a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and cruel upon the vulture heart.

It was open — wide, wide open — and I grew furious every bit 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; just I could see nix else of the old homo's confront or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And now have I not told y'all that what you mistake for madness is but over affectibility of the senses? — now, I say, at that place came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a lookout man makes when enveloped in cotton wool. I knewthat sound well, too. Information technology was the chirapsia of the old human's centre. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

Just even still I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the centre. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The one-time man'southward terrormust have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! — do you marker me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And at present at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old business firm, and then strange a noise equally 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 centre must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me — the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked one time — once simply. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to detect the human action and so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, even so, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The former man was expressionless. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Aye, he was stone, rock expressionless. I placed my hand upon the middle and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was rock dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you call back me mad, you volition think so no longer when I depict the wise precautions I took for the darkening of the body. The dark waned, and I worked hastily, simply in silence. Beginning of all I dismembered the corpse. I cutting off the head and the arms and the legs.

I so took upward iii planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards and so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human center — not evenhis — could have detected any affair wrong. At that place was nil to wash out — no stain of whatever kind — no claret-spot whatever. I had been besides wary for that. A tub had caught all — ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, information technology was four o 'clock — even so dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the 60 minutes, in that location came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open information technology with a light heart, — for what had Inow to fearfulness? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the law. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the law office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, — forwhat had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my ain in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the firm. I bade them search — searchwell. I led them, at length, tohis bedroom. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired themhither to residuum 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. Mymanner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sabbatum, 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 saturday and withal chatted. The ringing became more distinct: — it continued and became more than distinct: I talked more freely to become rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness — until, at length, I found that the noise wasnot within my ears.

No incertitude I now grewvery stake; — but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased — and what could I do? Information technology wasa low, dull, quick sound — much such a sound every bit a sentinel makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath — and however the officers heard information technology not. I talked more speedily — more than vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued almost trifles, in a high central and with trigger-happy gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Whywould they not exist gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury past the observations of the men — only the noise steadily increased. Oh God! whatcould I do? I foamed — I raved — I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated information technology 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 annihilation was amend 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 acknowledge the human activity! — tear up the planks! — here, here! — it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

---

Edgar Allan Poe

Jan 1843

Illustration by Harry Clarke

glattspeargons.blogspot.com

Source: https://poemuseum.org/the-tell-tale-heart/

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