The Cask of Amontillado

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
I 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 wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my
smile now was at the 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 skillful 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 pipe
of 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 Luchesi. If any one
has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me--"



"Luchesi 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. Luchesi--"



"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 Luchesi, he
cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."



Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm.
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 on
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," said he.



"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 eyes 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 Luchesi--"



"Enough," he said; "the cough is 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 walls
of piled bones, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into
the inmost recesses of 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 a trowel from beneath the folds of
my roquelaire.



"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 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
Luchesi--"



"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped
unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In
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 un-
covered 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 shall 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 reply only a jingling
of the bells. My heart grew sick on account of the dampness of
the catacombs. 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!