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 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 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 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."
"And I must
satisfy them."
"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.
"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.
"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 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."
"A huge human
foot d'or,
in a field azure;
the foot crushes
a serpent rampant
whose fangs
are imbedded
in the heel."
"Nemo
me impune
lacessit."
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.
"Then
you are not of
the brotherhood."
"You are not of
the masons."
"Yes,
yes,"
I said;
"yes,
yes."
"You?
Impossible!
A mason?"
"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 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—
No answer.
I called again—
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!
