All language subtitles for An Evening with Edgar Allan Poe - Starring Vincent Price 1970

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 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 to rid myself
of the eye forever.

Now this is the point.
You fancy me mad.

Well, madmen know nothing,
but you should have seen me.

You should have seen
how wisely I proceeded...

with what caution,
with what foresight.

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 I 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 very 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.

Now, 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.

I undid it just so much...

that a single thin ray
fell upon the vulture eye.

This I did for 7 long nights,
every night 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 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.

So, you see,
he would have been...

a very profound old man
indeed...

to suspect that every night,
just at 12:oo...

I looked in upon him
while he slept.

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.

I I could scarcely contain
my feelings of triumph.

I had my head in the room...

and was about to open
the lantern...

when my thumb slipped
on the tin fastening...

and the old man sprang up
in the 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.

Presently I heard
a slight groan...

and I knew it was the groan of
long, drawn out mortal terror.

It was not a groan
of pain or of grief. Oh, no.

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 had welled up
from my own bosom...

deepening with
its dreadful echo...

the terrors that
that distracted me.

I say I knew it well.

I I knew what
the old man felt...

and I pitied him,
although I chuckled at heart.

I 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's nothing but the wind
in the chimney."

"It's only a mouse
crossing the floor."

"It is merely a cricket
which has made a single chirp."

Yes.

Yes, he had been trying
to comfort himself...

with these suppositions...

but he had found it
all in vain...

because death,
in approaching him...

had stalked with
his black shadow before him...

and enveloped the victim.

He felt the presence of my head
within the room.

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...

oh, you cannot imagine
how stealthily...

until at length,
a single dim ray...

like the thread of a spider...

shot from out the crevice
and full upon the vulture eye.

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
of 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 on the damned spot.

Now, have I not told you...

that what you mistake
for madness...

is but overacuteness
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
to courage...

but even yet,
I refrained and kept still.

I scarcely breathed.

Meantime, the hellish tattoo
of the heart increased.

It grew quicker
and 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.

And now, at the dead hour
of the night...

amid the dreadful silence
of this 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 and louder.

I thought the heart 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 the lantern
and leapt into the room.

He shrieked... once, only once.

In an instant,
I dragged him to the floor...

and pulled
the heavy bed over him.

I then smiled gaily
to find the deed so far done.

For many minutes, the heart
beat on with a muffled sound.

Still, this did not vex me.

It would not be heard
through the wall.

And then, at last...

it ceased.

The old man was dead.

I removed the bed
and examined the corpse.

Yes. Yes, he was stone,
stone dead.

I placed my hand
upon the heart...

and held it there
for many minutes.

There was no pulsation.

He was stone dead.

His eye would trouble me
no more.

Now, if you still
think me mad...

you will think so
no longer...

when I describe
the wise precautions I took...

for the concealment
of the body.

First I I dismembered
the corpse.

I cut off the head
and then the arms and the legs.

I then took up 3 planks from
the flooring of the chamber...

and I deposited all
beneath the floor.

I then replaced the boards
so cleverly, so cunningly...

that no human eye,
not even his...

could have detected
anything wrong.

There was nothing to wash out

no stain of any kind...

no blood spot whatsoever.

I had been too wary for that.

A tub had caught it all.

And then, when I had made an end
of these labors...

it was 4:oo...

still dark as midnight.

As the bell sounded...

there came a knocking
at the street door.

I I went down to open it
with a light heart...

for what had I now to fear?

There entered 3 men
who introduced themselves...

with perfect suavity
as officers of the police.

A shriek had been heard
by a neighbor during the night.

Suspicion of foul play
had been aroused...

and they, the officers...

had been dispatched
to search the premises.

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...

and I bade them search
and 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 feet
upon the very spot...

beneath which reposed the corpse
of the victim.

The officers were satisfied.
My manner had convinced them.

I was singularly at ease.

They sat, and while
I answered cheerily...

they chatted familiar things.

But ere long,
I felt myself getting pale...

and I wished them gone.

My head ached, and I fancied
a ringing in my ears.

But still they sat
and they chatted.

The ringing became
more distinct.

I talked more freely
to get rid of the feeling...

but it continued and gained
definitiveness...

until at length I I found
that the noise was...

not within my ears.

It was a low, dull,
quick sound...

such a such a sound
as a watch makes...

when enveloped in cotton.

I gasped for breath,
yet the officers heard it not.

I talked more quickly,
more vehemently...

but the noise steadily
increased.

I arose, and I argued
about trifles...

but the noise increased
steadily.

Why would they not be gone?

I paced the floor to and fro
with heavy strides...

as if excited to fury
by the observation of the men...

but the noise steadily
increased.

Oh, God. What could I do?

I foamed, I raved, I swore.

I swung the chair by which
I had been sitting...

grated it upon the boards.

But the noise rose
above all.

It it grew louder,
louder...

and still the men chatted
pleasantly and smiled.

Was it possible
that they heard not?

Oh, almighty God, no.
No, they heard.

They suspected.

They knew.

They were making a mockery
of my horror.

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, dissemble no more.

I admit the deed.

Tear up the planks. Here.

It is the beating
of his hideous heart.

During the dread reign
of cholera in New York...

I had accepted
the invitation of a relative...

to spend a fortnight
with him here...

in the retirement of his cottage
on the banks of the Hudson.

We should have passed the time
pleasantly enough...

but for the fearful news...

which reached us every morning
from the populous city.

Not a day elapsed which did not
bring us intelligence...

of the decease
of some acquaintance.

We trembled at the approach
of every messenger.

The very air from the city...

seemed to us
redolent with death.

I could neither speak, think,
nor dream of anything else.

My host was of a less
excitable temperament.

To the realities of terror
he was sufficiently alive...

but of its shadows,
he had no apprehension.

I was not so fortunate...

and the palsying fears
of evil and death...

had taken possession
of my soul.

My state of mind
had been well primed...

for the terrifying incident
which soon took place.

Near the close
of an exceedingly warm day...

I was alone, sitting
with a book in hand...

at this window commanding...

through a long vista
of the riverbanks...

a view of a distant hill...

the face of which
nearest my position...

had been denuded,
by a landslide...

of the principal portion
of its trees.

My thoughts had been
long wandering...

from the volume before me...

to the gloom and desolation
of the neighboring city.

Uplifting my eyes
from the page...

they fell upon the naked face
of the hill and upon an object:

Upon some living monster
of hideous conformation...

which, very rapidly,
made its way...

from the summit to the bottom...

disappearing finally
in the dense forest below.

As this creature
first came in sight...

I doubted my own sanity,
and many minutes passed...

before I succeeded
in convincing myself...

that I was neither mad
nor in a dream.

Estimating the size
of the creature...

I concluded it
to be far larger...

than any ship of the line
in existence.

I say "ship of the line"...

because the shape of the monster
suggested the idea.

The hull of one of our
battleships might convey...

a very tolerable conception of
the general outline.

The mouth of the animal
was situated...

at the end of a tube
some 6o or 7o feet in length...

and about as thick as the body
of an ordinary elephant.

Near the root of this trunk...

was an immense quantity
of black, shaggy hair...

more than could
have been supplied...

by the coats
of a score of buffalo.

And projecting from this hair
downwardly and laterally...

sprang two gleaming tusks...

not unlike
that of the wild boar...

but of infinitely
greater dimension.

The body was fashioned
like a wedge...

with a point toward the earth.

From it there were outspread
two pairs of wings

each wing nearly
1oo yards in length...

one pair being placed
above the other...

and all thickly covered
with metal scales...

each scale apparently
some 1o or 12 feet in diameter.

But the chief peculiarity
of this horrible thing...

was the representation of
a death's head...

which covered nearly the whole
surface of its breast...

and which was as accurately
traced in glaring white...

upon the dark ground
of the body...

as if it had been
carefully designed by an artist.

While I regarded
this terrifying animal

and more especially,
the appearance on its breast

with a feeling
of horror and awe...

I perceived the huge jaws
at the extremity of the trunk...

suddenly expand themselves.

And from them,
there proceeded a sound...

so loud
and so expressive of woe...

that it struck upon my nerves
like a knell.

And as the monster disappeared
at the foot of the hill...

I fell, almost fainting,
to the floor.

Upon recovering...

my first impulse was
to inform my friend...

of what I had seen
and heard.

And I can scarcely explain...

what feeling of repugnance
it was which...

in the end, operated
to prevent me.

At length, one evening...

some 3 or 4 days
after the occurrence...

we were sitting together
in this room...

in which I had seen
the apparition

I occupying the same seat
at the same window...

and he lounging
in this chair nearby.

The association
of the place and time...

suddenly impelled me to give him
an account of the phenomenon.

He heard me to the end.

At first, he laughed heartily...

and then he lapsed into
an excessively grave demeanor...

as if my insanity was a thing
beyond suspicion.

At this instant,

I again had a distinct view
of the monster...

to which, with a shout
of absolute terror...

I now directed his attention.

"Look. Look."

He looked eagerly but maintained
that he saw nothing...

although I designated minutely
the course of the creature...

as it made its way down
the naked face of the hill.

I was now immeasurably
alarmed...

for I considered the vision
either as an omen of my death...

or worse, as a forerunner
of an attack of madness.

I threw myself passionately back
in the window seat...

and for some moments,
I buried my face in my hands.

My host, however...

had in some degree resumed
the calmness of his demeanor...

and questioned me
very rigorously...

in respect to the conformation
of the visionary creature.

When I had fully satisfied him
on this head...

he sighed deeply, as if relieved
of some intolerable burden...

and then he stepped
to the bookcase...

and brought forth one
of the ordinary synopses...

of natural history.

He then requested me
to exchange seats with him.

He took my place
at the window and...

opening the book,
resumed his discourse.

"But for your minuteness,"
he said...

"in describing the monster...

"I might never have had it
in my power...

"to demonstrate to you
what it was.

"In the first place...

"let me read to you
a schoolboy account...

"of the genus Sphinx
of the family Crepuscularia...

"of the class of Insecta,
or insects.

"The account runs thus:

"'4 membranous wings covered
with little colored scales...

"'of metallic appearance:

"'Mouth forming
a rolled tube...

"'produced by an elongation
of the jaws...

"'upon the sides of which
are found...

"'the rudiments of mandibles
and downy palpae:

"'Abdomen pointed.

"'The death's headed

"'The death's headed sphinx
has occasioned much terror...

"'among the unlearned...

"'by the melancholy kind
of cry which it utters...

"'and the insignia
of death...

which it wears
upon its corselet."'

He closed the book
and leaned back in the seat...

placing himself accurately
in the position...

which I had occupied
at the moment...

of beholding the monster.

"Ah, there it is,"
he exclaimed.

"It is reascending
the face of the hill...

"and a very remarkable creature
I admit it to be.

"Still, it is by no means
so large...

"or so distant
as you had imagined it.

"For the fact is...

"that as it wriggles
its way up this thread...

"which some spider has wrought
along the window sash...

"I find it to be
about 1/16 of an inch...

"in its extreme length...

"and also about
1/16 of an inch distant...

from the pupil of my eye."

The thousand injuries
of Fortunato...

I had borne as best I could...

but when he ventured
upon insult...

I vowed revenge.

Now, you, who so well know
the nature of my soul...

will not suppose, however...

that I gave utterance
to a threat.

At length, I would be avenged.

I would not only punish,
but punish with impunity.

It must be understood
that neither by word nor deed...

had I given Fortunato cause
to doubt my good will.

I continued to smile
in his face...

but he did not perceive
that my smile now...

was at the thought
of his immolation.

He had a weak point,
this Fortunato...

although in other regards,
he was a man to be respected...

and even feared.

He prided himself
in his connoisseurship of wine.

I was skillful in the Italian
vintages myself...

and bought largely
whenever I could.

It was about dusk one evening...

during the supreme madness
of the carnival season...

that I encountered my friend.

He accosted me
with excessive warmth...

for he had been drinking much.

The man wore the costume
of a jester.

He had on tights...

and his head was surmounted
by the conical cap and bells.

I was so pleased to see him
that I thought...

I should never have done
with wringing his hand.

I said to him,
"My dear Fortunato...

"you are luckily met.

"How remarkably well
you are looking today.

"Oh, I have received a keg of
what passes for Amontillado...

and I have my doubts."

"How?" said he.

"Amontillado? A cask?
Lmpossible.

And in the middle
of the carnival?"

"Well, I have my doubts...

"and I was silly enough to pay
the full Amontillado price...

"without consulting you
in the matter.

"You were not to be found...

and I was fearful
of losing a bargain."

"Amontillado? Amontillado?"

"Yes.

"As you are engaged,
I am on my way to meet Luchesi.

"If anyone has
a critical turn, it is he.

He will tell me."

"Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado
from sherry."

"And yet some fools
will have it...

that his taste
is a match for your own."

"Come. Let us go
to your vault."

"Oh, my friend, no, I will not
impose upon your good nature.

I perceive you have
an engagement. Luchesi"

"I have no engagement.
Come."

"My friend, no.

"It is not the engagement...

"but the severe cold with which
I perceive you are afflicted.

"The vaults are
insufferably damp.

They are encrusted
with mold."

"Let us go nevertheless.

"The cold is
merely nothing. Ha.

"Amontillado?
You have been imposed upon.

"As for Luchesi...

he cannot distinguish sherry
from Amontillado."

Thus speaking, Fortunato
possessed himself of my arm.

I, putting on
a mask of black silk...

and drawing a cape closely
about my person...

suffered him to hurry me
to my palazzo.

Oh, there were
no attendants at home.

They had absconded
to make merry...

in honor of the time.

I took from their sconces
two torches...

and, giving one
to Fortunato...

bowed him through
several suites of rooms...

to the archways that led
into the vaults.

I passed down a long
and winding staircase...

requesting him to be cautious
as he followed.

We came at length
to the foot of the descent...

and stood together
on the damp ground...

of the catacombs
of the Montresors my family.

The gait of my friend
was unsteady...

and the bells on his
jester's cap jingled...

as he strode.

"Where is the cask?"

"It is farther on,
but observe the white webwork...

which gleams from
these cavern walls."

"Mold?"

"Mold. Mold, yes.

How long have you had
that cough?"

My poor friend found it
impossible to reply...

for many minutes.

"It is nothing, nothing."

"Come, we will go back.
Your health is precious.

"You are rich, respected,
admired, beloved.

"You are a man to be missed.
For me it is no matter.

"We will go back.

"You will be ill,
and I cannot be responsible.

Besides, there is Luchesi."

"Enough, enough.
The cough is a mere nothing.

It will not kill me.
I shall not die of a cough."

"True, true.

"And, indeed...

"I had no intention
of alarming you unnecessarily...

"but you should use
all proper caution.

A draught of this Medoc will
defend us against the damp."

Here I knocked off
the neck of a bottle...

which I drew from
a long row of its fellows...

that lay upon the mold.

"Drink," I said,
presenting him the wine.

He raised it to his lips
with a sneer.

He paused and nodded
to me familiarly...

while his bells jingled.

"I drink to the buried
that repose around us."

"And I to your long life."

Yes, he again took my arm,
and we proceeded.

The wine sparkled in his eyes,
and the bells jingled.

My own fancy grew warm
with the Medoc.

We had passed through walls
of piled bones...

with casks and puncheons
intermingling...

into the inmost recesses
of the catacombs.

I paused again,
and this time made bold...

to seize Fortunato
by an arm.

"The mold you see?
It increases.

"It hangs like moss
upon the vaults.

"We are below
the river's bed.

"The drops of moisture trickle
among the bones.

"Come, we will go back
ere it is too late.

Your cough"

"It is nothing.
Let us go on.

Let us proceed to
the Amontillado."

"Be it so."

He leaned heavily
upon my arm.

We continued our route
in search of the Amontillado.

We passed through a range
of low arches

descended, passed on.

And descending again,
arrived at a deep crypt...

in which the foulness
of the air...

caused our torches to glow
rather than flame.

At the most remote end
of the crypt...

there appeared another room,
less spacious.

Its walls had been lined
with human remains...

piled to the vault overhead...

in the fashion of
the great Catacombs of Paris.

3 sides of this
interior crypt...

were still ormented
in this manner.

From the fourth, the bones
had been thrown down...

and lay in a mound
upon the earth.

Within the wall
thus exposed...

by the displacing
of the bones...

we perceived
a still interior recess

in depth about 4 feet,
in width 3...

in height 6 or 7

cut into
the solid granite.

"Proceed.
Herein is the Amontillado.

As for Luchesi"

"He is an ignoramus."

He stepped
unsteadily forward...

while I followed
immediately at his heels.

In an instant he had reached
the extremity of the niche...

and finding his progress
arrested by the rock...

stood stupidly bewildered.

In the surface
of the granite...

there happened to be
two iron staples.

From one depended a short chain:
From the other a padlock.

It was but the work
of a few seconds...

to throw the links about
his waist and secure them.

He was too much astounded
to resist.

Withdrawing the key,
I stepped back from the recess.

"Pass your hand
over the wall, Fortunato.

"You cannot help
but feel the mold.

"Indeed, it is very damp.

"Once more, let me
implore you to return.

"No? Then I must positively
leave you...

"but I must first render you...

all the little attentions
in my power."

"The Amontillado."

"True. The Amontillado."

As I said these words,
I busied myself...

among the pile of bones
of which I have spoken.

Throwing them aside...

I soon uncovered a quantity
of building stone and mortar.

With these materials
and with the aid of a trowel...

I began vigorously to wall up
the entrance of the niche.

I scarcely laid
the first tier of the masonry...

when I discovered that
the intoxication of Fortunato...

had in a great measure
worn off.

The earliest indication
I had of this was...

a low, moaning cry
from the depth of the recess.

It was not the cry
of a drunken man.

Then there was a long
and obstinate silence.

I laid the second tier
and the third and the fourth...

and then I heard the furious
vibrations of the chain.

The noise lasted for
several minutes during which...

that I might hearken to it
with the more satisfaction...

I ceased my labors
and sat down upon the bones.

When at last
the clanking subsided...

I resumed the trowel...

and finished
without interruption...

the fifth, the sixth,
and the seventh tier.

The wall was now nearly upon
a level with my breast.

I again paused and, holding
the torch over the mason work...

threw a few feeble rays
upon the figure within.

A succession of loud
and shrill screams...

bursting suddenly from the
throat of the chained form...

seemed to thrust me
violently back.

For a brief moment
I hesitated, I trembled.

Then I placed my hand
upon the solid fabric...

of the catacombs
and felt satisfied.

I reapproached the wall.

I replied to the yells
of him who clamored.

I reechoed, I aided...

I surpassed them in volume
and in strength.

I did this,
and the clamorer grew still.

It was now midnight...

and my task was drawing
to a close.

I had completed the eighth,
the ninth, and the tenth tier.

I had finished a portion
of the last the 11th.

There remained
but a single stone...

to be fitted
and plastered in.

I struggled
with its weight.

I placed it partially
in its destined position.

But now there came
from out the niche...

a low laugh
that erected the hairs...

upon the back of my neck.

"A very good joke indeed
an excellent jest.

"We will have many a rich laugh
about it at the palazzo...

over our wine."

"The Amontillado?"

"Yes, the Amontillado.

"But is it not
getting late?

"Will they not be waiting
for us at the palazzo

"the Lady Fortunato
and the rest?

Let us be gone."

"Yes, let us be gone."

"For the love of God,
Montresor."

"Yes, for the love
of God, Fortunato."

But to these words I hearkened
in vain for a reply.

I grew impatient.

I called aloud,
"Fortunato? Fortunato?"

No answer still.

I thrust a torch through
the remaining aperture...

and let it fall within.

There came forth in return
only a jingling of the bells.

My heart grew sick...

on account of the dampness
of the catacombs.

I hastened to make
an end of my labor.

I forced the last stone
into its position.

I plastered it up.

Against the new masonry...

I erected
the old rampart of bones.

For the half of a century,
no mortal has disturbed them.

/n pace requ/escat.

I was sick sick unto death
with that long agony.

I felt that my senses
were leaving me.

The dread sentence of death...

was the last distinct phrase
which reached my ears.

After that, the voices
of the Inquisition judges...

seemed to merge in one dreamy,
indeterminate hum.

I saw the lips
of the black robed judges

white and thin
even to grotesqueness...

writhing with
their deadly locution

fashioning the syllables
of my name...

and the decree of death
by torture.

And then the blackness loomed
close up against my skin...

snuffing out even
the evil whiteness...

of those damning lips...

driving all sensibility
into retreat...

in a mad rushing descent
as of the soul into Hades.

Then silence and stillness
and night were the universe.

I had swooned...

yet shadows of memory
reflect dimly...

upon the inner walls
of my mind

shadows of tall figures...

that lifted and bore me
down, down...

to a place of flatness
and dampness and silence.

Silence...
and all is madness.

I would not open my eyes.

I felt that I lay
upon my back unbound.

I reached out my hand...

and it fell heavily upon
something damp and hard.

I longed, yet dared not
to employ my vision.

It was not that I feared
to look upon things horrible...

but that I grew aghast...

lest there should
be nothing to see.

At length, with a wild
desperation at heart...

I quickly unclosed
my eyes.

My worst thoughts
were confirmed.

The blackness of eternal night
encompassed me.

I struggled for breath.

The intensity of the darkness
seemed to oppress and stifle me.

Perspiration burst
from every pore...

and stood in big cold beads
upon my forehead.

I thrust my arms wildly
above and around me

clawing, grasping...

reaching for something
either damnable or saving...

but something.

Nothing.

The agony of suspense grew
intolerable, so I arose.

Cautiously, I stepped forward...

my eyes straining
from their sockets...

in hope of catching
some faint ray of light.

But the blackness was
still a disguise.

Until finally, a wall

smooth, slimy, cold
a wall.

I followed it up...

stepping with all that
careful distrust...

inspired by the thousand
vague rumors...

of the horrors of Toledo.

Finally I took courage.

I resolved to quit the wall...

and to cross the enclosure...

in as direct a line
as possible.

The floor was
treacherous with slime.

I advanced cautiously...

some 1o or 12 paces
in this manner...

when suddenly I stumbled...

and fell violently on my face.

In the confusion
attending my fall...

I did not immediately
apprehend...

a somewhat startling
circumstance.

It was this:

My chin rested upon the floor
of the prison...

but my lips and the upper
portion of my head...

touched nothing.

At the same time,
my forehead seemed bathed...

in a clammy vapor...

and the peculiar smell
of decayed fungus...

arose to my nostrils.

I had fallen at the very brink
of a circular pit.

Groping about the masonry
just below the margin...

I succeeded in dislodging
a small fragment...

and let it fall
into the abyss.

Many seconds I waited...

and hearkened
to its reverberations...

as it dashed against the sides
of the chasm in its descent.

At length there was
a sullen plunge into water...

succeeded by loud echoes.

At the same moment,
there came a sound...

resembling a quick opening
of a door overhead...

while a faint gleam of light...

flashed suddenly
through the gloom...

and as suddenly faded away.

Shaking in every limb...

I groped my way
back to the wall...

resolving there to perish...

rather than risk
the terrors of the pit.

Agitation of spirit kept me
awake for many long hours...

but at length I fell
into a deep slumber.

Upon arousing, I found that
objects around me were visible.

A wild sulfurous luster

by that I was enabled to see...

the extent and aspect
of the prison.

What I had taken for masonry...

seemed now to be iron
in huge plates.

Figures of hideous fiends
in aspects of menace...

with skeleton forms...

overspread and disfigured
the walls.

In the center of the floor...

yawned the circular pit
from whose jaws I had escaped.

Then I realized...

that I was securely bound
to a low framework of wood.

Strapping passed in many
convolutions about my body...

leaving at liberty
only my head and my left arm...

so that only
with much exertion...

could I supply myself with food
from an earthen dish...

which lay by my side
on the floor.

The food in the dish was meat,
pungently seasoned.

Looking upward...

I surveyed the ceiling
of my prison.

It was some 3o or 4o feet
overhead...

and suspended therefrom was...

what appeared
to be a huge pendulum...

such as one might see
on antique clocks.

While I gazed at it...

I fancied that I saw it move
ever so slightly.

I watched it for some
for some minutes...

somewhat in fear,
but more in wonder.

Then a noise attracted
my notice...

and looking to the floor,
I saw several enormous rats.

They had issued from the pit
with ravenous eyes...

lured by the scent
of the meat.

It required much effort
and attention...

to scare them away
from the food.

When I again cast
my eyes upward...

what I saw confounded
and amazed me.

The sweep of the pendulum
had increased in extent...

by nearly a yard.

But what mainly disturbed me
was the idea...

that it had
perceptibly descended.

I now observed

with what horror
it is needless to say

that its lower extremity was a
crescent of glittering steel...

about a foot in length
from horn to horn

the horns upward...

and the under edge evidently
as keen as that of a razor.

And it hissed as it swung
through the air.

Inch by inch...

with a descent only appreciable
at intervals that seemed ages...

down and still down
it came.

Days passed ere it swept
so closely over me...

as to fan me
with its acrid breath.

I prayed
for its more speedy descent.

I grew frantically mad...

and struggled
to force myself upward...

against the sweep of
the fearful scimitar.

And then suddenly I fell calm...

and lay smiling
at the glittering death...

as a child would
at some rare bauble.

I saw that the crescent
was designed to cross...

the region of my heart.

It would fray the serge
of my garment.

It would return and repeat
its operations...

again and again...

but the fraying of my garment
would be all that...

for several minutes,
it would accomplish.

To the right, to the left,
far and wide...

down, steadily down
it crept...

with the shriek of
a damned spirit:

To my heart with
the stealthy pace of the tiger.

I alternately laughed
and howled...

as the odor of the sharp steel
forced itself into my nostrils.

Down, relentlessly down...

it vibrated finally
within 3 inches of my bosom.

1o or 12 sweeps
would bring the steel...

in actual contact
with my clothing.

And then,
with this observation...

there suddenly came over
my spirit...

all the keen,
collected calmness of despair.

For the first time
in many hours or perhaps days...

I thought
I thought of the rats.

They had been literally
swarming around...

the low framework
upon which I lay.

They were wild, bold,
and ravenous...

their red eyes glaring
upon me...

as if they waited for
motionlessness on my part...

to make me their prey.

"What food," I thought...

"have they been accustomed to
in the pit?"

They had devoured...

in spite of all my efforts
to prevent them...

all but a small remnant of
the contents of the dish.

Although my plan
was scarcely sane...

I proceeded at once
to attempt its execution.

With the particles
of the oily and spicy meat...

which now remained...

I thoroughly rubbed
the restraining binding...

wherever I could reach it.

Then I lay breathlessly still.

At first the ravenous animals
were startled...

and terrified
at the change.

Observing, however, that
I remained without motion...

one or two of the boldest
leapt upon the framework...

and smelt at my bonds.

This seemed the signal
for a general rush.

They leapt in hundreds
upon my person.

The measured movement
of the pendulum...

disturbed them not at all.

Avoiding its strokes...

they busied themselves gnawing
the anointed bindings.

They pressed...

they swarmed upon me
in ever accumulating heaps.

They writhed upon my throat.
Their cold lips sought my own.

I was half stifled
by their thronging pressure.

Disgust for which the world
has no name swelled my bosom...

and chilled with
a heavy clamminess my heart.

Yet one minute, and I felt that
the struggle would be over.

Plainly I perceived
the loosening of the strapping.

I knew that
in more than one place...

it must be already severed.

With a more than human
resolution...

I lay still.

Nor had I erred
in my calculations...

nor had I endured in vain.

I at last felt that I was free.

But the stroke of the pendulum
already pressed upon my bosom.

It had divided the serge
of my garment.

Twice again it swung...

and a sharp sense of pain
shot through every nerve...

but the moment of escape
had arrived.

At a wave of my hand...

my deliverers hurried
tumultuously away.

With a steady movement...

I slid from the embrace
of the bindings...

and beyond the reach
of the scimitar.

I was free free.

But still in the grasp
of the Inquisition.

I had scarcely stepped from
my wooden bed of horror...

when the motion of
the hellish machine ceased...

and I beheld it drawn up.

My very motion was
undoubtedly watched.

Free.

I had but escaped death
in one form of agony...

to be delivered unto worse
than death in some other.

With that thought,
I rolled my eyes nervously...

on the barriers of iron
that hemmed me in.

I observed that the figures
of the fiends upon the walls...

had now assumed a startling
and most intense brilliancy.

Demon eyes of a wild
and ghastly vivacity...

glared upon me from
a thousand directions.

It was unreal.

While I breathed,
there came to my nostrils...

the breath of the vapor
of heated iron.

A suffocating odor
pervaded the prison.

I panted,
I gasped for breath.

I shrank from the burning metal
to the center of the cell.

Amid the thought of the fiery
destruction that impended...

the idea of the coolness
of the pit...

came over my soul like balm.

I rushed
to its deadly brink.

I threw
my straining eyes below.

The glare from
the enkindled roof...

illuminated
its inmost recesses.

Yet, for a wild moment,
did my spirit refuse...

to comprehend the meaning
of what I saw.

At length it forced,
it burned its way into my soul.

Oh, for a voice to speak.

Oh, horror.
Oh, any horror but this.

The heat increased rapidly,
and once again I looked up.

There had been a second change
in the cell...

and now the change was
obviously in the form.

The room had been square.

The fearful difference
quickly increased...

with a low, rumbling sound.

The apartment
was shifting its form...

into that of a rectangle.

"Death," I screamed...

"Any death
but that of the pit."

Fool.

Might I not have known
that into the pit...

was the object
of the burning iron to urge me?

And now closer and closer
grew the walls.

I shrank back...

but the closing walls pressed me
resistlessly onward.

At length, for my seared
and writhing body...

there was no longer
an inch of foothold...

on the firm floor
of the prison.

I struggled no more...

but the agony of my soul
found vent...

in one long, loud,
and final scream of despair.

I felt that I tottered
upon the brink.

Then suddenly...

there was a discordant hum
of human voices.

There was a loud blast
as of many trumpets.

The fiery walls rushed back.

An outstretched arm
caught my own...

as I fell fainting
into the abyss.

It was that
of General LaSalle.

The French army
had entered Toledo.

The Inquisition is
in the hands of its enemies.