The Tell-Tale Heart (Edgar Allan Poe) — graded reader B1–B2

The Tell-Tale Heart

A graded reader · Edgar Allan Poe · B1–B2

Warm-up

• Do you enjoy crime stories or thrillers? Which one do you still remember?

• What sounds keep you awake at night?

• Has a small habit of someone you live with ever driven you crazy? What was it?

• Are you good at keeping a secret? Is it easy or hard for you?

The author and the book

Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849)

Edgar Poe was born in Boston in 1809. His parents were actors. When he was two, his mother died of tuberculosis in Richmond, Virginia. A successful Richmond merchant, John Allan, and his wife Frances took the little boy in. They never officially adopted him, but he took their name: Edgar Allan Poe.

As an adult, Poe tried to live from his writing alone, and he was almost always short of money. He wrote poems, reviews and strange, dark stories. In 1841, "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" gave the world a brilliant detective called Dupin, and it is often called the first modern detective story. In 1845, his poem "The Raven" made him famous almost overnight.

His death is still a mystery. In October 1849, he was found in Baltimore, confused and wearing clothes that were not his own. He died four days later, aged 40.

"The Tell-Tale Heart" first appeared in January 1843, in the first issue of The Pioneer, a short-lived Boston magazine.

Key words

mad

vulture

lantern

mentally ill; unable to think or behave normally

a large bird that eats the bodies of dead animals

a lamp in a metal case that you can carry; a "dark lantern" has a cover to hide its light

floorboards

confess

the long pieces of wood that make a floor

to admit that you have done something wrong, or a crime

Let's talk

• Poe lost his mother as a small child and struggled for money as an adult. How might that shape a writer?

• When someone keeps saying "I'm fine, I'm fine!", do you believe them? Why or why not?

• Why do we enjoy stories told by a person we can't trust?

• The story is called "The Tell-Tale Heart". A "tell-tale" gives away a secret. What secret could a heart tell?

PART 1 OF 4

The vulture eye

PART 1 · THE VULTURE EYE

True! I am nervous. Very, very nervous. I was then, and I am now. But why do you say that I am mad? My illness made my senses sharper. It did not destroy them. Above all, my hearing was sharp. I heard all things in heaven and on earth. I heard many things in hell. So how am I mad? Listen! See how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

I cannot say how the idea first came to me. But once it came, it stayed, day and night. There was no reason for it. I loved the old man. He had never hurt me. He had never insulted me. I didn't want his gold. 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 looked at me, my blood went cold. And so, slowly, very slowly, I decided to take the old man's life, and free myself from the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You think I am mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me! You should have seen how wisely I worked! How carefully! I was never kinder to the old man than during the week before I killed him.

Every night, about midnight, I opened his door. Oh, so gently! When the gap was wide enough for my head, I put in a dark lantern, closed, closed, so that no light shone out. Then I pushed in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cleverly I did it!

PART 1 · THE VULTURE EYE

I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so I wouldn't wake him. It took me an hour to get my head in far enough to see him. Ha! Would a madman be so wise?

Then I opened the lantern a little, so that one thin ray fell on the vulture eye. I did this for seven long nights, every night at midnight. But the eye was always closed, so I could not do the work. It was not the old man who troubled me. It was his Evil Eye.

Every morning, I went boldly into his room, called him warmly by his name, and asked how he had slept.

On the eighth night, I was even more careful. The minute hand of a watch moves faster than my hand did.

I had never felt so powerful! There I was, opening his door, and he did not even dream of my secret. I laughed quietly at the idea. Perhaps he heard me, because he moved suddenly in the bed. Did I go back? No! His room was pitch black, with the shutters closed against robbers. He could not see the door opening, so I kept pushing it, steadily, steadily.

My head was in, and I was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped on the tin catch. The old man sat up in bed and cried out:

"Who's there?"

Book club

PART 1 · THE VULTURE EYE

1. Why did the narrator decide to kill the old man?

2. What did he do every night at midnight, and why didn't he act?

3. How did he behave towards the old man in the daytime?

4. The narrator says his careful planning proves he isn't mad. Does it? Why or why not?

5. Why do you think he tells us he loved the old man?

6. The old man is awake. What do you think the narrator will do now?

PART 2 OF 4

A sound like a watch

PART 2 · A SOUND LIKE A WATCH

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour, I did not move a muscle, and I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in bed, listening, just as I have done, night after night, listening to the little beetles ticking in the wall.

Then I heard a low groan, a groan of terrible fear. It was not a groan of pain or sadness. Oh, no! It was the sound that rises from the bottom of the soul when it is full of terror. I knew that sound well. Many nights, at midnight, it has risen from my own chest. I knew what the old man felt, and I felt sorry for him, although I laughed inside.

I knew he had been awake since that first small noise, and his fears had been growing ever since. He was trying to tell himself, "It is only the wind in the chimney. It is only a mouse crossing the floor." But it was all in vain. Death was coming towards him, with its black shadow in front, and the shadow had reached him. That was why he felt my head in the room, though he could not see or hear me.

I waited a long time, very patiently. Then I opened the lantern a little, a very, very little, until one thin ray, like the thread of a spider, fell on the vulture eye.

It was open. Wide, wide open. And I grew furious as I looked at it.

PART 2 · A SOUND LIKE A WATCH

I saw it perfectly: dull blue, with a horrible veil over it that froze me to the bone. But I could see nothing else of the old man's face or body. I had pointed the ray, as if by instinct, exactly on the damned spot.

And now, haven't I told you that what you call madness is only that my senses are too sharp? Now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, like the sound of a watch wrapped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It made me even more furious, as the beating of a drum makes a soldier brave.

But still I waited. I hardly breathed.

And the hellish beating of the heart grew quicker and quicker, louder and louder every moment! The old man's terror must have been extreme! Louder, I say, louder every moment! Do you hear me? I have told you that I am nervous. So I am. And at the dead hour of the night, in the terrible silence of that old house, this strange noise filled me with uncontrollable anger.

The beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst! And now a new fear took hold of me: a neighbour would hear it! The old man's hour had come!

With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room.

Book club

PART 2 · A SOUND LIKE A WATCH

1. How did the old man try to calm himself in the dark?

2. What did the narrator see when the ray of light fell on the old man?

3. What sound did he hear, and why did it make him act?

4. The narrator says he felt sorry for the old man. Do you believe him?

5. Have you ever lain awake, sure that someone or something was there? What happened?

6. What do you think the narrator will do next, and could anyone stop him?

PART 3 OF 4

Three planks

PART 3 · THREE PLANKS

The old man screamed once. Only once. In a moment, I pulled him to the floor and dragged the heavy bed over him. Then I sat on the bed and smiled happily. The deed was almost done.

But for many minutes, the heart beat on, with a muffled sound. This did not worry me. It could not be heard through the walls. At last, it stopped. The old man was dead. I moved the bed and looked at the body. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I put my hand on his heart and held it there for many minutes. There was no beat. He was stone dead.

His eye would trouble me no more.

If you still think I am mad, you will not think so when I describe how wisely I hid the body. The night was ending, and I worked quickly, but in silence. First, I cut up the body. I cut off the head, and the arms, and the legs.

Then I took up three planks from the floor of the room, and put everything between the beams underneath. I put the boards back so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye (not even his) could see anything wrong. There was nothing to wash away: no mark of any kind, no spot of blood at all.

PART 3 · THREE PLANKS

I had been too careful for that. A tub had caught everything. Ha! Ha!

When I had finished, it was four o'clock, still as dark as midnight. As the clock struck four, there was a knock at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart. What did I have to fear now?

Three men came in. Very politely, they said they were police officers. A neighbour had heard a scream during the night. Someone suspected a crime, and had told the police. The officers had been sent to search the house.

I smiled. What did I have to fear?

I welcomed the gentlemen. The scream, I said, was my own, in a dream. The old man, I said, was away in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I told them to search, and to search well.

At last, I led them into his room. I showed them his treasures, safe and untouched. I felt so confident that I brought chairs into the room and asked them to rest there after their work. And I myself, wild with the joy of my perfect success, placed my own chair on the very spot where the body lay below.

Book club

PART 3 · THREE PLANKS

1. How did the narrator hide the body?

2. Why did the police come to the house at four in the morning?

3. What did he tell the officers, and where did he put his own chair?

4. Why do you think he brought the officers into the old man's room?

5. Is it brave or stupid to sit right above the body? What would a calm person do?

6. The officers are sitting in the room. What do you think will happen?

PART 4 OF 4

Louder, louder, louder

PART 4 · LOUDER, LOUDER, LOUDER

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was completely relaxed. They sat, and while I answered cheerfully, they chatted about everyday things.

But before long, I felt myself going pale, and I wished they would go. My head ached, and I thought I heard a ringing in my ears. But still they sat, and still they chatted. The ringing became clearer. I talked more freely, to get rid of the feeling. But it went on, and grew clearer, until at last I understood that the noise was not inside my ears.

No doubt I now went very pale. But I talked more quickly, and more loudly. And still the sound grew. What could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound, like the sound of a watch wrapped in cotton. I fought for breath. And yet the officers did not hear it.

I talked faster, more wildly, but the noise steadily grew. I stood up and argued about small, silly things, in a high voice, waving my arms. But the noise steadily grew. Why wouldn't they go?

PART 4 · LOUDER, LOUDER, LOUDER

I walked up and down the room with heavy steps, as if the men's words were making me angry. But the noise steadily grew.

Oh God! What could I do? I raged. I shouted. I swore! I picked up the chair I had been sitting on, swung it, and scraped it across the boards. But the noise rose over everything, and grew and grew. It grew louder, louder, louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled.

Was it possible that they could not hear it? Almighty God! No, no! They heard! They suspected! They knew!

They were laughing at my horror! I thought this then, and I think it now.

But anything was better than this agony! Anything was easier to bear than their laughter! I could not stand those false smiles any longer! I felt that I must scream or die! And now, again, listen! Louder! Louder! Louder! Louder!

"Villains!" I screamed. "Stop pretending! I admit what I did! Tear up the planks! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

Book club

PART 4 · LOUDER, LOUDER, LOUDER

1. How did the narrator behave when the officers first sat down?

2. What did he try to do to cover the noise?

3. Why did he finally confess?

4. Could the officers hear the heart? What do you think the sound really was?

5. Do you think the officers suspected anything before he confessed? Why or why not?

Big questions

1

The narrator says, again and again, that he is not mad. What do you think, and why?

2

What really beat louder and louder: the old man's heart, his own heart, or his guilt?

3

He never tells us who he is talking to. Who do you imagine is listening, and where?

4

He killed a man because of an eye. Can a small thing really grow into an obsession?

5

If the narrator had stayed calm, would he have got away with it? Is guilt a punishment in itself?

6

In court today, should a man like this go to prison or to hospital? Why?

TEACHER'S REFERENCE · SKIP OR DELETE BEFORE CLASS

Answer key

Part 1 · 1 Because of the old man's eye: a pale blue "vulture" eye with a film over it. When it looked at him, his blood went cold.

Part 1 · 2 He slowly put his head and a closed lantern through the door, and shone a thin ray on the eye. The eye was always closed, and it was the eye, not the man, that troubled him.

Part 1 · 3 He was very kind. He went boldly into his room every morning, called him by name in a warm voice and asked how he had slept.

Part 2 · 1 He told himself it was only the wind in the chimney, or a mouse crossing the floor.

Part 2 · 2 The eye, wide open: dull blue with a horrible veil over it. He could see nothing else of the old man.

Part 2 · 3 A low, dull, quick sound, like a watch wrapped in cotton: the old man's heart. It grew so loud that he was afraid a neighbour would hear it.

Part 3 · 1 He cut up the body and put it under three planks in the floor, between the beams. A tub caught all the blood, so there was nothing to wash away.

Part 3 · 2 A neighbour had heard a scream in the night and told the police, so they came to search the house.

Part 3 · 3 He said the scream was his own, in a dream, and the old man was away in the country. He put his chair on the very spot where the body lay.

Part 4 · 1 He was relaxed and confident, and answered cheerfully while they chatted.

Part 4 · 2 He talked faster and louder, argued, walked up and down, and scraped his chair across the floor.

Part 4 · 3 He believed the officers could hear the heart and were laughing at him. He couldn't bear it any longer.