THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.
THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; butwhen he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know thenature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance toa threat. _At length_ I would be avenged; this was a point definitivelysettled--but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved,precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish withimpunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes itsredresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to makehimself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
It must be understood, that neither by word nor deed had I givenFortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, tosmile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile _now_ was atthe thought of his immolation.
He had a weak point--this Fortunato--although in other regards he wasa man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on hisconnoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit.For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time andopportunity--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 thisrespect I did not differ from him materially: I was skilful in theItalian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of thecarnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me withexcessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. Hehad on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmountedby the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him, that Ithought I should never have done wringing his hand.
I said to him--”My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkablywell you are looking to-day! But I have received a pipe of what passesfor Amontillado, and I have my doubts.”
”How?” said he. ”Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle ofthe carnival!”
”I have my doubts,” I replied; ”and I was silly enough to pay the fullAmontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not tobe 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 acritical 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 yourown.”
”Come, let us go.”
”Whither?”
”To your vaults.”
”My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive youhave an engagement. Luchesi--”
”I have no engagement;--come.”
”My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with whichI perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They areencrusted with nitre.”
”Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! Youhave been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherryfrom Amontillado.”
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting on a maskof black silk, and drawing a _roquelaire_ closely about my person, Isuffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry inhonor of the time. I had told them that I should not return until themorning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house.These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediatedisappearance, 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 intothe vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting himto be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of thedescent, and stood together on the damp ground of the catacombs of theMontresors.
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingledas he strode.
”The pipe,” said he.
”It is farther on,” said I; ”but observe the white web-work which gleamsfrom these cavern walls.”
He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs thatdistilled 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 isprecious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, asonce I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We willgo back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there isLuchesi--”
”Enough,” he said; ”the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. Ishall not die of a cough.”
”True--true,” I replied; ”and, indeed, I had no intention of alarmingyou unnecessarily--but you should use all proper caution. A draught ofthis Medoc will defend us from the damps.”
Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row ofits 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 mefamiliarly, 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 serpentrampant 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 grewwarm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of piled bones, withcasks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of thecatacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunatoby an arm above the elbow.
”The nitre!” I said: ”see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon thevaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickleamong 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 ofthe 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 bottleupwards 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 ofmy _roquelaire_.
”You jest,” he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. ”But let us proceed tothe Amontillado.”
”Be it so,” I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak, and againoffering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our routein search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches,descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, inwhich the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow thanflame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another lessspacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to thevault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Threesides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. Fromthe fourth the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously uponthe earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wallthus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a stillinterior recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in heightsix or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial usein itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossalsupports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of theircircumscribing walls of solid granite.
It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored topry into the depths of the recess. Its termination the feeble light didnot enable us to see.
”Proceed,” I said; ”herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi--”
”He is an ignoramus,” interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadilyforward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he hadreached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrestedby the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I had fetteredhim to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant fromeach other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these dependeda short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about hiswaist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was toomuch astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from therecess.
”Pass your hand,” I said, ”over the wall; you cannot help feeling thenitre. Indeed it is _very_ damp. Once more let me _implore_ you toreturn. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first renderyou all the little attentions in my power.”
”The Amontillado!” ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from hisastonishment.
”True,” I replied; ”the Amontillado.”
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which Ihave before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity ofbuilding stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of mytrowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.
I had scarcely laid the first tier of my masonry when I discoveredthat the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. Theearliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depthof the recess. It was _not_ the cry of a drunken man. There was then along and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, andthe fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. Thenoise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken toit with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labors and sat down upon thebones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, andfinished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventhtier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I againpaused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a fewfeeble rays upon the figure within.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from thethroat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For abrief moment I hesitated--I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began togrope with it about the recess: but the thought of an instant reassuredme. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and feltsatisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of himwho clamored. I re-echoed--I aided--I surpassed them in volume and instrength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completedthe eighth, the ninth, and the tenth tier. I had finished a portionof the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone tobe fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed itpartially in its destined position. But now there came from out theniche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeededby a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognising as that of thenoble Fortunato. The voice said--
”Ha! ha! ha!--he! he!--a very good joke indeed--an excellent jest. Wewill have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo--he! he! he!--overour wine--he! he! he!”
”The Amontillado!” I said.
”He! he! he!--he! he! he!--yes, the Amontillado. But is it not gettinglate? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunatoand the rest? Let us be gone.”
”Yes,” I said, ”let us be gone.”
”_For the love of God, Montressor!_”
”Yes,” I said, ”for the love of God!”
But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. Icalled aloud--
”Fortunato!”
No answer. I called again--
”Fortunato!”
No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and letit 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. Ihastened to make an end of my labor. I forced the last stone into itsposition; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected theold rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbedthem. _In pace requiescat!_