Sleep and death, he reflects, must have a lot in common-and fainting is somewhere between those two, putting you closer to the mysterious world of the dead than sleep alone can. And the deepest sleep contains dreams-even if you don’t remember them when you wake up. Else there is no immortality for man” (247). He didn’t exactly lose all consciousness, he insists, for “even in the grave all is not lost. Here, the narrator pauses for a brief disquisition on what’s left of human consciousness when one is unconscious. Desperate, he turns instead to thoughts of the peace and quiet of the grave-until, overcome by fear and suspense, he faints. At first, he sees them as little angels, there to offer solace or even rescue then, a “most deadly nausea” comes over him and makes him feel that the candles are only inanimate objects, unfeeling and uncaring (246). He’s immersed in the horror of this moment, hypnotically fascinated by the stark-white lips of his judges and the steady grind of their voices.Īs he casts around for some comfort, his eye falls on seven white candles standing before him on the table. The narrator, we soon discover, is a prisoner: Hauled before the Spanish Inquisition, he’s about to be condemned to death, and now has to suffer the agonizing moments before his sentence is passed. The story begins with shocking suddenness: “I was sick-sick unto death with that long agony” (246).

The pit edgar allan poe