﻿	     The Cask of Amontillado 
  		by 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 I 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 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, 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 
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 
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 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 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. "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. "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 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 walls of piled bones, 
with casks and puncheons intermingling, 
into the inmost recesses of 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 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 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 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 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 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 shall 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 reply 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! 