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 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.
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.
He turned towards me and looked into my eyes
with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.

"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 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 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"
--

"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.
"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
montillado."
"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 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 in itself, but formed merely the in terval
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 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 t
he 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 indication I had of this was a low
moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was NOT the cry of a drunke n
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 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
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 -- 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.