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THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO EDGAR ALLAN 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 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." "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! |
