The Black Cat, E.A. Poe (III)

            

(III)

For months I could not rid myself

of the phantasm of the cat; and…

there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed,

but was not,

remorse.

I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal,

and to look about me…

for another pet of the same species…

One night as I sat,

half-stupefied,

in a den of more than infamy,

my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object…

… it was a black cat

-         a very large one –

fully as large as Pluto,

and closely resembling him in every respect

but one…

this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white,

covering nearly the whole region of the breast.

He… appeared delighted with my notice.

This, then

was the creature of which I was in search…

when it reached the house

it domesticated itself at once,

and became immediately a great favourite

with my wife.

For my own part,

I soon found a dislike to it arising within me…

… its evident fondness for myself

rather disgusted and annoyed me…

I avoided the creature…

what added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast,

was the discovery… that,

like Pluto,

it had also been deprived of one of its eyes.

With my aversion to this cat, however,

its partiality for myself seemed to increase…

I am almost ashamed to own…

that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me,

had been heightened by …

the character of the mark of the white hair…

this mark…

… had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness

of outline…

it was now the representation of an object

that I shudder to name…

the image

of a hideous -

of a ghastly thing –

of the GALLOWS ! –

oh, mournful and terrible engine

of Horror and of Crime –

of Agony and of Death!