The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 4Poe, Edgar Allan
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The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 4
Poe, Edgar Allan
American fiction -- 19th century; Fantasy fiction; Horror tales, American; Short stories
Not being able to arrive at a conclusion, the practitioners
remanded me for farther examination. I was taken up into a
garret; and the surgeon’s lady having accommodated me with
drawers and stockings, the surgeon himself fastened my hands, and
tied up my jaws with a pocket-handkerchief—then bolted the door
on the outside as he hurried to his dinner, leaving me alone to
silence and to meditation.
I now discovered to my extreme delight that I could have spoken
had not my mouth been tied up with the pocket-handkerchief.
Consoling myself with this reflection, I was mentally repeating
some passages of the “Omnipresence of the Deity,” as is my custom
before resigning myself to sleep, when two cats, of a greedy and
vituperative turn, entering at a hole in the wall, leaped up with
a flourish a la Catalani, and alighting opposite one another on
my visage, betook themselves to indecorous contention for the
paltry consideration of my nose.
But, as the loss of his ears proved the means of elevating to the
throne of Cyrus, the Magian or Mige-Gush of Persia, and as the
cutting off his nose gave Zopyrus possession of Babylon, so the
loss of a few ounces of my countenance proved the salvation of my
body. Aroused by the pain, and burning with indignation, I burst,
at a single effort, the fastenings and the bandage. Stalking
across the room I cast a glance of contempt at the belligerents,
and throwing open the sash to their extreme horror and
disappointment, precipitated myself, very dexterously, from the
window.
The mail-robber W——, to whom I bore a singular resemblance, was
at this moment passing from the city jail to the scaffold erected
for his execution in the suburbs. His extreme infirmity and long
continued ill health had obtained him the privilege of remaining
unmanacled; and habited in his gallows costume—one very similar
to my own,—he lay at full length in the bottom of the hangman’s
cart (which happened to be under the windows of the surgeon at
the moment of my precipitation) without any other guard than the
driver, who was asleep, and two recruits of the sixth infantry,
who were drunk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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