Эдгар Аллан По

Tales of Mystery and Imagination


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      TALES OF MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION

      Edgar Allan Poe

      CONTENTS

       Cover

       Title Page

       I

       II

       III

       IV

       V

       VI

       Chapter 8: The Pit and the Pendulum

       Chapter 9: The Premature Burial

       Chapter 10: The Masque of the Red Death

       Chapter 11: The Cask of Amontillado

       Chapter 12: The Imp of the Perverse

       Chapter 13: The Island of the Fay

       Chapter 14: The Oval Portrait

       Chapter 15: The Tell-Tale Heart

       Chapter 16: The Domain of Arnheim

       Chapter 17: Landor’s Cottage A Pendant to ‘The Domain of Arnheim’

       Chapter 18: The Assignation: Venice

       Chapter 19: William Wilson

       Chapter 20: Berenice

       Chapter 21: Eleonora

       Chapter 22: Ligeia

       Chapter 23: The Murders in the Rue Morgue

       Chapter 24: The Mystery of Marie Rogêt1 A Sequel to ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue.’

       Chapter 25: The Purloined Letter

       Chapter 26: The Colloquy of MONOS and UNA

       Chapter 27: The Conversation of EIROS and CHARMION

       Chapter 28: A Tale of the Ragged Mountains

       Classic Literature: Words and Phrase Adapted from the Collins English Dictionary

       About the Author

       History of Collins

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER 1 The Gold Bug

      What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad!

      He hath been bitten by the Tarantula.

      —All in the Wrong.

      Many years ago I contracted an intimacy with a Mr William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivan’s Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.

      This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the mainland by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and slime, a favourite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the sea-coast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burdening the air with its fragrance.

      In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendship—for there was much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated, with unusual