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 I gave
utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point
definitively 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 upon 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 practice 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,1 and his head was
surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that 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 pipe2 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 anyone has a cr t cal 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 roquelaire3
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,4
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," 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.
"Nitres5?" 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
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 unneccessarily—but you should use
all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc6 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,7
in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded
in the heel."
"And the motto?"
"Nemo me impune lacessit."8
"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 puncheons9 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 flacon 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."10
"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 rogue-laire a trowel.
“You Jest”, he exclaimed, recoiling a few
paces. "But let us proceed to the 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 will
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 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 vibration 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 reechoed, 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 ss 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!11
1. Fortunato wears a jester's costume (i.e., motley), not a
woman's dress.
2. Large cask.
3. Man's heavy, knee-length cloak.
4. That is, two torches from their wall brackets.
5. Potassium nitrate (saltpeter), a white mineral often found on
the walls of damp caves and used in gunpowder.
6. Like De Grave (below), a French wine.
7. Of gold.
8. No one provokes me with impunity.
9. Large casks.
10. Masons or Freemasons, an international
secret society condemned by the Catholic Church. Montresor means by mason one
who builds with stone, brick, etc.
11. May he rest in peace!
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