It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the
seventh or eighth day after the placing of the lady Madeline within the
donjon, that I experienced the full power of such feelings. Sleep came
not near my couch,--while the hours waned and waned away. I struggled to
reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavored to
believe that much, if not all, of what I felt was due to the bewildering
influence of the gloomy furniture of the room,--of the dark and tattered
draperies, which, tortured into motion by the breath of a rising
tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, and rustled uneasily
about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts were fruitless. An
irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded my frame; and, at length, upon
my very heart sat an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this
off with a gasp and a struggle, I uplifted myself on the pillows, and,
peering earnestly within the intense darkness of the chamber,
hearkened--I know not why, except that an instinctive spirit prompted
me--to certain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the pauses
of the storm, at long intervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an
intense sentiment of horror, unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on
my clothes with haste (for I felt that I should sleep no more during the
night), and endeavored to arouse myself from the pitiable condition
into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the
apartment.
I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an
adjoining staircase arrested my attention. I presently recognized it as
that of Usher. In an instant afterward he rapped, with a gentle touch,
at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was, as usual,
cadaverously wan; but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in
his eyes,--an evidently restrained _hysteria_ in his whole demeanor. His
air appalled me; but anything was preferable to the solitude which I had
so long endured, and I even welcomed his presence as a relief.
“And you have not seen it?” he said abruptly, after having stared about
him for some moments in silence,--“you have not then seen it?--but,
stay! you shall.” Thus speaking, and having carefully shaded his lamp,
he hurried to one of the casements, and threw it freely open to the
storm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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