القلب الفاضح

القلب الفاضح
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.
حقيقة متوتر انا جدا جدا ولكن لماذا ستقول انني مجنون؟ المرض شحذ أحاسيسي وليس فقط حطمها أو سودها. وفوقها جميعا احساس السمع الحاد. لقد سمعت كل شئ في الجنة والأرض. سمعت اشياء كثيرة في الجحيم. كيف لي اذن ان اكون مجنونا؟ انظر كيف.. يمكنني ان اروي لك القصة كاملة بصورة صحية وهادئة.

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.
من المستحيل جدا ان اتذكر كيف دخلت الفكرة الى عقلي؟ ولكن ما ان تراءت لي حتى استحوذت على تفكيري بالنهار وباليل . لم يكن هنالك شئ ولم تكن هناك عواطف . لقد احببت الرجل العجوز. لم يخطئ يوما بحقي ولم يسئ الي ابدا . لا ارغب بذهبه. اعتقد انها عيناه. نعم عيناه. لديه عينا نسر.. عيون زرقاء شاحبة.عليها غشاوة.. كلما وقعت علي يجري دمي باردا..لذلك تدريجيا قررت ان اقضي على حياة العجوز.. وبهذا اخلص نفسي من هذه العيون إلى الابد.
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, so 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 ass 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 - very 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 spike courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had 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 upon him while he slept.
الآن وفي عند هذه النقطة تظنني مجنونا . ولكن المجانين لا يعلمون شيئا. ولكن كان يجب عليك ان تراني..كان يجب ان ترى كيف بحكمة قد استمررت... بكل حذر.. وبكل بعد نظر.. بكل تخفي .. ذهبت الى العمل . لم اكن اكثر طيبة من قبل معه هكذا كما كنت طوال الاسبوع الذي سبق قتلي له. وفي كل ليلة.. في حوالي منتصف الليل ..كنت ادير مزلاج الباب و افتحه بهدوء. وعندما افتحه مسافة كافية لادخال راسي اضع بالداخل فانوسا معتما واغلق الباب قليلا قليلا حتي لا يخرج الضؤ خارجا..ثم اقوم بادخال راسي اوه كنت ستضحك كثيرا عندما ترى كيف ادخلته بكل دهاء وكيف دفعته قليلا قليلا حتى لا ازعج العجوز واوقظه كنت احتاج لساعة كاملة لادخل راسي كاملا من خلال الفتحة واتمكن من رؤيته مستلقيا على فراشه .. هل يعقل ان يكون الرجل المجنون بهذه الحكمة؟ وبعد ان يصبح راسي داخل الغرفة بصورة جيدة .. ارفع شعاع الفانوس قليلا قليلا حتى يخرج شعاع مفرد منه ويقع على عين النسر.كنت اقوم بعمل ذلك كل ليلة في منتصف اليل لمدة سبع ليال طويلة ولكنني دائما اجد العين مغلقة لذا كان من الصعب انجاز المهمة.لانه لم يكن الرجل الذي يضايقني بل عينه الشريرة..وهكذا كنت اذهب اليه كل صباح عندما يبدا اليوم ادخل بشجاعة الى غرفته واناديه بنبرة قوية وصوت انساني سائلا اياه كيف قضى ليلته؟ ها انت ترى انه كان سيكون عجوزا بالغ الحكمة لو شك في انني ازوره كل منتصف ليلة وانظر اليه وهو نائم.

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.
وفي الليلة الثامنة كنت اكثر حذرا من العادة في فتح الباب. كانت ذراع الدقائق في الساعة يتحرك اسرع مما يتحرك ذراعي لم اشعر في اي ليلة سابقة بمدى طاقتي و قدراتي.. وسلطتي و فطنتي.. كنت بصعوبة احاول احتواء مشاعر الانتصار التي تغمرني . مجرد التفكير في انني هنا افتح بابه قليلا قليلا وهو لا يملك ادنى فكرة عن افعالي او افكاري . ضحكت نوعا ما من الفكرة ولربما سمعني لانه تحرك فجأة في فراشه كأن فزع. الآن لربما تعتقد انني سارجع ادراجي لكن لا لان غرفته كانت مظلمة ظلاما حالكا .. لان المزاليج كانت مغلقة باحكام خوفا من اللصوص .. لذلك كنت اعلم انه لن يرى فتحة الباب واستمررت انا بدفعها قليلا قليلا.

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.
ادخلت راسي كله وكنت على وشك اضاءة الفانوس عنما انزلق ابهامي على المزلاج المصنوع من الصفيح.. وقفز الرجل العجوز صارخا في الظلام : من هناك؟ بقيت ساكنا ولم اصدر اي صوت لساعة كاملة لم احرك عضلة من جسمي وفي خلال هذا الوقت لم اسمعه يستلقي في فراشه..كان لا يزال جالسا على السرير يستمع , كما فعلت انا ليلة وراء ليلة استمعت فيها لساعة الموت على الحائط.
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 ht unperceived shadow that caused him to feel - although he neither saw nor heard - to feel the presence of my head within the room.
الآن سمعت صوت انة خفيفة , كنت اعلم انها أنة الخوف المميت.. لم تكن انة الم او حزن .. آه ..لا.. انه الصوت المخنوق الذي يصدر من اعماق الروح عندما يسودها الرعب.. لقد عرفت الصوت جيدا .. لليال كثيرة وفي منتصف الليل والكل نائم..كان يخرج من اعماقي.. بعمق.. بصداه الفظيع.. ليشتت افكاري ويربكني.. قلت انني اعرفه جيدا.. اعرف ما الذي احس به الرجل العجوز وشعرت بالشفقة نحوه.. بالرغم من انني ضحكت في قلبي..علمت انه يرقد مستيقظا منذ اول صوت خافت سمعه عندما استدار في سريره .. مخاوفه كانت تزداد منذ تلك اللحظة.. ربما يكون صوت الريح في المدخنة.. او لربما يكون مجرد فار يعبر على الارض .. او لربما يكون صرصورا .. كان يقول محاولا طمأنة نفسه. . بهذه التبريرات للصوت الذي سمعه.. لكنه وجدها جميعا بلا جدوى .. بلا جدوى.. فالموت كان يتقدم نحوه ويلقي بظله الاسود عليه وغلف ضحيته.. لقد كان شعورا غامرا حزينا بالشبح عير الملحوظ بسبب وجود راسي داخل غرفته رغم انه لم يرى ولم يسمع شيئا واضحا.
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.
عندما انتظرت وقتا طويلا , بصبر شديد, دون ان اسمعه عاد الى سريره.. قررت ان افتح قليل من ضوء الفانوس ولذلك فتحته بخلسة قليلا قليلا حتى خرج شعاع واحد من الضوء الخافت كخيط العنكبوت من خلال الفتخة وسقط في عين النسر.
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
لقد كانت عيناه مفتوحة على آخرهما وشعرت بالغضب وانااحملق فيهما .. لقد رايتهما بوضوح شديد تلك الزرقة الكئيبة..بحجاب خفي من فوقها.. كان يشعرني بالرجفة حتى نخاع عظامي.. ولكنني لم اكن قادرا على رؤية اي جزء آخر من وجه العجوز او جسمه لانني وجهت الشعاع بدقة نحو البقعة الملعونة (يعني عيناه).
And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? - 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.
وانا لم اخبرك ما تخطئ فيه حين تظنني مجنونا..لانه فوق حدة الشعور. الآن اقول وصل الى مسامعي صوت كئيب سريع وخافت كالصوت الذي يصدر عند فتح من الساعة عند تغليفها بالقطن.. انا اعرف هذا الصوت جيدا..انه صوت ضربات قلب العجوز .. التي زادت من غضبي كما تحمس دقات الطبول الجندي وتمده بالشجاعة.
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 eye. 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.
ولكن حتى الآن وانا لا ازال ساكنا.. اتنفس بصعوبة. حملت الفانوس بدون اي مشاعر.كنت احول بدقة ان ابقي شعاع الضوء على العين. في هذه الاثناء اذداد الوشم الفظيع على القلب( ربما يعني زيادة ضربات القلب بهذا التعبير) اصبح اسرع واسرع واعلى واعلى كل لحظة . لابد ان الرجل العجوز يزداد خوفا.. انه يرتفع اعلى واعلى كل ثانية . هل تعرفني جيدا؟؟ لقد اخبرتك انني متوتر.. اذن انا متوتر
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.
و الآن في اللحظات الاخيرة من الليل وسط الصمت المخيف لهذا البيت ضوضاء كهذه اثارتني لحد لا يمكن السيطرة عليه. الآن ولدقائق امتنعت عن الحركة وبقيت ساكنا. لكن صوت ضربات القلب اذداد قوة.. اعلى واعلى. حتى انني ظننت ان القلب يجب ان ينفجر من شدتها. والآن قلق جديد بدأ يخنقني..قد سمع احد الجيران هذا الصوت العالي. ساعة الرجل العجوز قد حانت. بصرخة شديدة فتحت اضاءة الفانوس ودخلت الى الغرفة.. صرخ مرة.. مرة واحدة فقط وفي لحظة جذبته الى الارض وجذبت السرير الثقيل من فوقه.
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.
بعد ذلك ابتسمت بمرح بعد ان انجز العمل, لكن ولدقائق عديدة استمر القلب في الخفقان بصوت خافت , لكنني لم انزعج لانه لا يمكن سماعه عبر الجدران.بعد برهة توقف, العجوز قد مات.ابعدت عنه السرير وتفحصت الجثة لاتاكد.. نعم لقد مات تماما. وضعت يدي على القلب وابقيتها لمدة .. ليس هناك اي نبض.لقد مات تماما ولن تزعجني عيناه بعد اليوم.
I 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.
لا زلت تعتقد انني مجنون لكنك لن تستمر باعتقادك هذا عندما اخبرك بالتدابير الحذرة التي اتختها لاخفاء الجثة. ادبرالليل وعملت بسرعة ولكن بهدوء. اول شئ عملته مزقت الجثة .. قطعت الرأس.. والذراعان والارجل.
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!
ثم اخذت ثلاث الواح من ارضية الغرفة ووضعت الاجزاء المقطعة واعدت وضع الالواح بذكاء شديد ودهاء بحيث لا تستطيع عين بشرية – ولا حتى عيني العجوز نفسه- يمكنها ان تلحظ اي شئ خطأ. لا يوجد ما يجب غسله فلبس هنالك اي دم. لقد كنت قلقا جدا من هذا .. لكن لاحوجة لحوض لجمع الدم.ها ها.
When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock - still dark as midnight. A 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.
عندما انتهيت من الاعمال كانت الساعة حوالي الرابعة صباحا ولا تزال مظلمة كظلام منتصف الليل. دقت الساعة وجاء صوت طرق من الباب الخارجي. نزلت الاسفل لافتح الباب بقلب هادئ ولماذا اخاف؟ دخل ثلاث رجال قدموا انفسهم بلطف شديد على انهم ضباط شرطة. فقد سمع احد الجيران صوت صرخة اثناء الليل, وشكوك حول حدوث جريمة بدات تظهر , معلومات ارسلت الى مركز الشرطة وقد حصلوا على اذن بتفتيش السكن.
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 here to 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.
ابتسمت .. ماذا لدي لاخاف. رحبت برجال الشرطة وقلت لهم ان الصرحة انا من احدثتها عندما كنت نائما احلم. الرجل العجوز غائب بالارياف. اخذت ضيوفي لكل انحاء المنزل. وتركتهم يبحثون بدقة واخذتهم في النهاية لهذه الغرفة اريتهم كنوزه في امان دون ازعاج. وفي غمرة حماس وثقتي احضرت بعض الكراسي للغرفة ودعوتهم ليرتاحوا هنا قليلا من تعبهم.بينما ان نفسي وانا مزهو لانتصاري وضعت الكرسي الخاص بي فوق المنطقة بالضبط التي اخفيت فيها جثة العجوز.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They say, 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.
اقتنع رجال الشرطة بسبب سلوكي الذي كان مقنعا وشعرت بالراحة والاطمئنان كانوا يتحدثون وانا ارد بلطف تحدثوا عن اشياء مالوفة ولكن بمرور الوقت احسست انني بدات اصبح شاحبا وتمنيت ان يرحلوا. راسي بدا يؤلمني وبدات اسع رنينا في اذني ولكنهم لا يزالون جالسون ويتحدثون. اصبح الرنين اكثر حدة ووضوحا. تكلمت بحرية حتى اتخلص من هذا الشعور . ولكنه استمر واصبح اكثر تحديدا وفي النهاية اكتشفت ان الصوت لم يعد فقط في اذني.








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? I 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!'
مم لاشك فيه انني اصبحت شاحبا جدا ولكنني تكلمت بطلاقة لاتخلص من هذا الضوضاء وبصوت عال ولا زال الصوت في زيادة. وماذا عساي ان افعل؟ كان صوت كئيب وحافتو سريع كالذي يصدر من الساعة عندما نغلفها بالقطن. كنت الهث لاتمكن من التنفس ولكن لا يبدو ان رجال الشرطة قد سمعوه.تكلمت بسرعة اكبر وولكن الصوت استمر في الاذدياد. تناقشت وتجادلت حول امور تافهة واستعملت الحركات العنيفة في كلامي ولا يزال الصوت في اذدياد. لماذا لا يذهبون؟؟ قطعت الغرفة جيئة وذهابا بخطوات قوية كانني اذداد غضبا لرؤية رجال الشرطة.. ولكن الصوت اذداد بانتظام ..يا الهي ! ماذا يمكن ان افعل؟ ازبدت وارعدت وخرج من الزبد .. اقسم على ذلك. دورت الكرسي الذي كنت اجلس عليه. وسحقته على الالواح الخشبية.. والصوت يرتفع اعلى واعلى ولا يزال الرجال يتحدثون بسعادة و يبتسمون. ايعقل انهم لا يسمعون هذا الصوت؟؟ يا الهي الاعظم؟؟ لا لا .. انهم يسمعون .. انهم يشكون.. انهم يعلمون.. انهم يسخرون من رعبي.. اعتقدت هذا واعتقدت ذاك ولكن اي شئ افضل من هذا البؤس .. اي شئ افضل من هذا التهكم.لا يمكنني تحمل هذه الابتسامات المنافقة اكثر من هذا .. شعرت انني يجب ان اصرخ او اموت والآن ايضا اعلى واعلى واعلى .
(ايها الاشرار.. ) صرخت انا ..لن اخفي اي شئ .. بعد الآن .. انه هنا هنا وازاح الالواح الخشبية .. هذا الصوت هو صوت قلبه البشع.

Plot Summary
By Michael J. Cummings...© 2005
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. .......

The narrator has been so nervous that he jumps at the slightest sound. He can hear all things on heaven and earth, he says, and some things in hell. But he maintains that he is not mad. To prove his sanity, he says, he will calmly tell the reader his story.
.......One day, he decided to take the life of an old man for no other reason except that he had an eye resembling that of a vulture–“a pale blue eye with a film over it.” Over time, it became so unbearable to look upon it that the narrator had no other choice but to get rid of the old man. The way he went about the task, with such calculation and cunning, demonstrates that he is not mad, the narrator says.
.......At midnight, he would turn the knob on the door of the old man’s bedroom. Then he would open the door ever so slowly. In fact, it would take him an hour to open the door wide enough to poke his head into the room. Would a madman have been so cautious? Then he would open a little slot on his lantern, releasing light, to check the hideous eye. For seven straight nights, it was closed, “and so it was impossible to do the work,” he says, “for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye.”
.......On the eighth night, the narrator opened the door with greater caution than before. As before, the room was completely dark. He was about to shine the lantern when the old man sat up and said, “Who’s there?” The narrator did not answer but remained in place, not moving a muscle, for an entire hour. All the while, the old man continued to sit up, wondering–the narrator speculated–what he had heard. The wind? A mouse? A cricket?
.......Although he did not hear the old man lie down again, the narrow open the lantern slot just a sliver, then wider. The beam fell upon the open vulture eye. Then the narrator heard a low, muffled sound–the beating of the man’s heart! Or so he believed. The heartbeat louder–then louder and louder. Would a neighbor hear it?
.......Shouting, the narrator rushed into the room. After the old man shrieked, the narrator quickly threw himto the floor and pulled the bed on top of him. The heart continued to beat, but only softly. Moments later, the beating stopped. The narrator checked his pulse. Nothing. The old man was dead. After moving the bed aside, the narrator took up three floorboards, secured the old man between the joists, and replaced the boards. The narrator felt proud of himself, for there was no blood to wash out, no other task of any kind to do.
.......At 4 a.m., just when he had finished his work, the narrator answered a knock at his front door. When he opened it, three policemen entered, saying a neighbor had reported hearing a shriek, possibly indicating foul play. They needed to search the premises. “I smiled,” the narrator says, “for what had I to fear?”
.......After welcoming the police, he told them the shriek was his own; he had cried out during a dream. He also told them that the old man who lived in the house was away in the country. Next, he took the police all over the house, inviting them to search everything–thoroughly. After they entered the old man’s chamber, the narrator pointed out that the old man’s possessions had not been disturbed.
.......In his swelling self-confidence, the narrator brought in chairs and invited the policemen to rest. “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 narrator says.
.......The police appeared completely satisfied that nothing criminal had occurred in the house. However, they continued to chat idly, staying much longer than the narrator had expected. By and by, he began to hear a rhythmic ringing in his head. While he was talking with the police, the noise–which had the cadence of a ticking watch but a much louder sound–persisted, becoming more distinct. A moment later, he concluded that the rhythmic ringing was outside of him. Still, he talked on, now more loudly. The policemen did not seem to hear the noise.
.......When it grew even louder, the narrator rose and began arguing with the officers about trivial matters, punctuating his conversation with wild hand movements. He also paced back and forth. Then he raved and cursed and dragged his chair over the floorboards, all in an apparent attempt to drown out the noise he was hearing. Meanwhile, it grew still louder, and louder, and louder. How was it possible that they could not hear it?
.......In fact, they must have heard it, the narrator decided. And they must have suspected him of a crime all along. Their calm manner and idle chatter were part of a ruse to mock him. Unable to brook their counterfeit behavior any longer, unable to endure the sound any longer, the narrator brought the whole business to a crashing climax.
......."Villains! I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! – tear up the planks! – here, here! – it is the beating of his hideous heart

!"

Setting
The story opens in an undisclosed locale, possibly a prison, when the narrator tells readers that he is not mad. To defend his sanity, he tells a story which he believes will prove him sound of mind. His story is set in a house occupied by the narrator and an old man. The time of the events in the story is probably the early 1840's, when Poe wrote the story. The action in the narrator's story takes place over eight days.
Characters
The Narrator: Deranged unnamed person who tries to convince the reader that he is sane. The narrator's gender is not identified, but Poe probably intended him to be a man. Here is why: Poe generally wrote from a male perspective, often infusing part of himself into his main characters. Also, in major short stories in which he identifies the narrator by gender–stories such as "The Black Cat," "The Cask of Amontillado," and "The Fall of the House of Usher"–the narrator is male. Finally, the narrator of "A Tell-Tale Heart" exhibits male characteristics, including (1) A more pronounced tendency than females to commit violent acts. Statistics demonstrate overwhelmingly that murder is a male crime. (2) Physical strength that would be unusual in a female. The narrator drags the old man onto the floor and pulls the bed on top of him, then tears up floorboards and deposits the body between joists. (3) The narrator performs a man's chore by bringing four chairs into the old man's bedroom, one for the narrator and three for the policemen. If the narrator were a woman, the policemen probably would have fetched the chairs. But they did not.
The Old Man: Seemingly harmless elder who has a hideous "evil eye" that unnerves the narrator.
Neighbor: Person who hears a shriek coming from the house of the narrator and the old man, then reports it to the police.
Three Policemen: Officers who search the narrator's house after a neighbor reports hearing a shriek.
Type of Work Short story in the horror genre that focuses on the psyche of the narrator

Themes
Theme 1: A human being has a perverse, wicked side–another self–that can goad him into doing evil things that have no apparent motive. This is the same theme of another Poe story, "The Black Cat." The narrator of "The Tell-Tale Heart" admits in the second paragraph of the story that he committed a senseless crime, saying: "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." However, he does note that his evil deed, murder, was not entirely unprovoked; for the old man he killed had a hideous eye that unnerved him. Unable to look upon it any longer, he decided to kill the old man.
Theme 2: Fear of discovery can bring about discovery. At the end of the story, the narrator begins to crack under the pressure of a police investigation, hearing the sound of the murdered man's beating heart, and tells the police where he hid the body. Fear of discovery is the principle under which lie detectors work.
Theme 3: The evil within is worse than the evil without.. The old man has a hideous, repulsive eye; outwardly, he is ugly. But, as the narrator admits, he is otherwise a harmless, well-meaning person. The narrator, on the other hand, is inwardly ugly and repulsive, for he plans and executes murder; his soul is more repulsive than the old man's eye.

[[Point of View


The story is told in first-person point of view by an unreliable narrator. The narrator is obviously deranged, readers learn during his telling of his tale, even though he declares at the outset that he is sane. As in many of his other short stories, Poe does not name the narrator. A possible explanation for this is that the unnamed narrator becomes every human being, thereby enhancing the universality of the short story. In other words, the narrator represents anyone who has ever acted perversely or impulsively–and then had to pay for his deed.
Prose Beats Like a Heart
From time to time, Poe uses a succession of short sentences or word groups, creating a rhythm not unlike that of a heartbeat. Note the following examples from the story:
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!
I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could to maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased.
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!"
[Figures of Speech

As in other works of his, Poe uses many figures of speech. Examples are the following:
Anaphora
Anaphora is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is repeated at the beginning of a clause or another group of words. Anaphora imparts emphasis and balance. Here are boldfaced examples from "The Tell-Tale Heart":
I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell.
With what caution–with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work!
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."
There was nothing to wash out–no stain of any kind–no blood-spot whatever.
They heard!–they suspected!–they KNEW!–they were making a mockery of my horror!
Personificaton
Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. [Here, Death is a person.]
Simile
So I opened it–you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily–until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye. [The simile is the comparsion of the ray to the thread of the spider with the use of the word like.
It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. [The simile is the comparison of the heartbeat to a drumbeat.]
His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness. . . . [The simile is the comparison of the darkness to pitch.]
Alliteration
Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story.
Meanwhile, the hellish tattoo of the heart increased.
It is the beating of his hideous heart!
[Irony

]
I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.
[Author Information


]Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19, 1809, in Boston. After being orphaned at age two, he was taken into the home of a childless couple–John Allan, a successful businessman in Richmond, Va., and his wife. Allan was believed to be Poe’s godfather. At age six, Poe went to England with the Allans and was enrolled in schools there. After he returned with the Allans to the U.S. in 1820, he studied at private schools, then attended the University of Virginia and the U.S. Military Academy, but did not complete studies at either school. After beginning his literary career as a poet and prose writer, he married his young cousin, Virginia Clemm. He worked for several magazines and joined the staff of the New York Mirror newspaper in 1844. All the while, he was battling a drinking problem. After the Mirror published his poem “The Raven” in January 1845, Poe achieved national and international fame. Besides pioneering the development of the short story, Poe invented the format for the detective story as we know it today. He also was an outstanding literary critic. Despite the acclaim he received, he was never really happy because of his drinking and because of the deaths of several people close to him, including his wife in 1847. He frequently had trouble paying his debts. It is believed that heavy drinking was a contributing cause of his death in Baltimore on October 7, 1849[/CENTER].