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!