| The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when
he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of
my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At
length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled --but the
very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I
must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when
retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the
avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. It
must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause
to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and
he did not perceive that my to smile now was atthe thought of his
immolation.
He had a weak point --this Fortunato --although in other regards he was a
man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his
connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the
most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to
practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting
and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter
of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him
materially; --I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought
largely whenever I could. It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme
madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me
with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley.
He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted
by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought I
should never have done wringing his hand. I said to him --"My dear Fortunato,
you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day. But I have
received a pipeof what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."
"How?" said he. "Amontillado, A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of
the carnival!""I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay
the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were
not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain." "Amontillado!" "I
have my doubts." "Amontillado!" "And I must satisfy them." "Amontillado!"
"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical
turn it is he. He will tell me --" "Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from
Sherry." "And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your
own. "Come, let us go." "Whither?" "To your vaults." "My friend, no; I will
not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement.
Luchresi--" "I have no engagement; --come." "My friend, no. It is not the
engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The
vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre." "Let us go,
nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed
upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask
of black silk and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered
him to hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in
honour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the
morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house.
These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate
disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned. I took from their
sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through
several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed
down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he
followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together
upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors. The gait of my
friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode. "The
pipe," he said. "It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work
which gleams from these cavern walls." He turned towards me, and looked into
my eves with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.
"Nitre?" he asked, at length. "Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had
that cough?" "Ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh!
ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh!" My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many
minutes. "It is nothing," he said, at last. "Come," I said, with decision,
"we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired,
beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it
is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible.
Besides, there is Luchresi --" "Enough," he said; "the cough's a mere
nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough." "True --true," I
replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily
--but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend
us from the damps. Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from
a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.
"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine. He raised it to his lips with a
leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled. "I
drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us." "And I to your long
life." He again took my arm, and we proceeded. "These vaults," he said, "are
extensive." "The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."
"I forget your arms." "A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot
crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel." "And the
motto?" "Nemo me impune lacessit." "Good!" he said. The wine sparkled in his
eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had
passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons
intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again,
and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.
"The nitre!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the
vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among
the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough --" "It is
nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc."
I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His
eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards
with a gesticulation I did not understand. I looked at him in surprise. He
repeated the movement --a grotesque one. "You do not comprehend?" he said.
"Not I," I replied. "Then you are not of the brotherhood." "How?" "You are
not of the masons." "Yes, yes," I said; "yes, yes." "You? Impossible! A
mason?" "A mason," I replied. "A sign," he said, "a sign." "It is this," I
answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire a trowel. "You
jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the
Amontillado.""Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and
again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route
in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches,
descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in
which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than
flame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious.
Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in
the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior
crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones
had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one
point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing
of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about
four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been
constructed for no especial use within itself, but formed merely the
interval between two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs,
and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.
It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to
pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not
enable us to see. "Proceed," I said; "herein is the Amontillado. As for
Luchresi --" "He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped
unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In niche, and
finding an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding
his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more
and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples,
distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these
depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about
his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too
much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the
recess. "Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling
the nitre. Indeed, it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return.
No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the
little attentions in my power." "The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not
yet recovered from his astonishment. "True," I replied; "the Amontillado."
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I
have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of
building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my
trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche. I had
scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the
intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest
indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess.
It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate
silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I
heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several
minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more
satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last
the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without
interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now
nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the
flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure
within. A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the
throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief
moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with
it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my
hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt satisfied. I
reapproached the wall; I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I
re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this,
and the clamourer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed
the eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the
last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and
plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its
destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that
erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had
difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato.
The voice said-- "Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he! --a very good joke, indeed
--an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo
--he! he! he! --over our wine --he! he! he!" "The Amontillado!" I said. "He!
he! he! --he! he! he! --yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late?
Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the
rest? Let us be gone." "Yes," I said, "let us be gone." "For the love of
God, Montresor!" "Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" But to these words I
hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud -- "Fortunato!"
No answer. I called again -- "Fortunato!" No answer still. I thrust a torch
through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in
return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness
of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I
forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new
masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no
mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!
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