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.
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 webwork 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 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" --
"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.
"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
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 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 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
the 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 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 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 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
reerected the old rampart of
bones. For the half of a century
no mortal has disturbed them.
In pace requiescat! |