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 had 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, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded-with what caution-with what foresight-with what dissimulation I went to work! 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! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture-a pale blue eye, with a film over it. It is impossible to tell how first the idea entered my brain but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! 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.

The beating heart edgar allan poe