by Edgar Allan Poe
The Cask of Amontillado.
THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had
borne as I best could, but when he ven-
tured 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 de-
finitively 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 connoisseur-
ship 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 impos-
ture upon the British and Austrian MILLIONAIRES. In
painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his country-
men, 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 su-
preme madness of the carnival season, that I encoun-
tered 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 look-
ing to-day! But I have received a pipe of what
passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."
"How?" said he, "Amontillado? A pipe? Im-
possible? 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 af-
flicted. 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 disappear-
ance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.
I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giv-
ing 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
webwork which gleams from these cavern walls."
He turned towards me and looked into my eyes
with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of in-
toxication.
"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
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 im-
bedded 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 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 up-
wards 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.
"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 ap-
peared another less spacious. Its walls had been
lined with human remains piled to the vault over-
head, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris.
Three sides of this interior crypt were still orna-
mented in this manner. From the fourth 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 displac-
ing 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 in 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 depths 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 be-
wildered. 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 re-
sist. 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. Throw-
ing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of build-
ing 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 my masonry
when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato
had in a great measure worn off. The earliest in-
dication 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 sub-
sided, 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 flam-
beaux 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 cata-
combs, 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 recognising as that of the noble Fortunato. The
voice said --
"Ha! ha! ha! -- 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 Amon-
tillado. 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 -- 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!
END.
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