french and iTalian coMedians, anonymous French painter, 1670
The Cask of Amontillado
EdGar allan PoE
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ThE CASK OF AMONTiLLADO1
1 Amontillado: a light, dry sherry from the Spanish town of montilla
Edgar allan Poe
The thousand injuries of Fortunato2
I had borne as I best could, but
2 Fortunato: in italian, this word means “a lucky person.”
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.
precluded
made
impossible
impunity
exemption
from
punishment
retribution
payback; justly
deserved
punishment
unredressed
unsettled
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.
immolation
sacrifice,
especially by
fire
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 enthu-
siasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity to practice imposture upon
the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary,3 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.
3 gemmary: jewelry
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival
season,
4
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.
accosted
greeted
4 carnival season: the season before lent, a time when catholics go to parties and
celebrate before the fasting and penitence of lent
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I said to him—“My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably
well you are looking today! But I have received a pipe5
of what passes for
Amontillado, and I have my doubts.”
5 pipe: a large cask, the equivalent of 52.5 imperial gallons or about 238 liters
“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 Luchresi. If any one has a critical
turn, it is he. He will tell me”—
“Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.”6
6 Sherry: a Spanish wine
“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. Luchresi”—
“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.”7
7 nitre: the mineral form of potassium nitrate, also known as saltpeter; a critical component
of gunpowder and explosives and also used in embalming
“Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You
have been imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry
from Amontillado.”
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a
mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire8
closely about my person, I suffered
8 roquelaire: a knee-length cloak, buttoned in front
the cask of amontillado
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him to hurry me to my palazzo.9
9 palazzo: an italian palace or townhouse
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in
honor 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.
absconded
left
I took from their sconces two flambeaux,10 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 cau-
tious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood
catacombs together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.
network
of caves,
grottos, or
underground
passages;
originally, a
burial district
in rome
said to be
used by early
christians
10 flambeaux: candelabras
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as
he strode.
“The pipe,” he said.
“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.
rheum
watery or
thin mucus
discharge,
as one gets
when one has
a cold
“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 Luchresi” —
“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
Medoc11 will defend us from the damps.”
18 In pace requiescat: latin for “may he rest in peace!”
Fortunato raised the bottle eagerly and drank quickly. “Ha!” he exclaimed,
“a very good joke indeed—an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh
about it at the palazzo—ha! ha! ha!—over our wine—ha! ha! ha!”
12 medoc: a red wine from the bordeaux region of france
“The Amontillado!” I said.
“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 again.
"A moment," I said. "It is not too late to turn back. I must leave you for a few
moments. You will not die of a cough?"
"Ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh!
ugh! ugh! ugh!"
At 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 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 labors and sat down upon the bones.
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When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without
interference 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
piazza in the hope of finding a crevice. 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 clamored. I reechoed—I
assisted—I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamorer
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 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 said.
"Th
e
Amontillado!"
"He!" he said.
"Yes," I said, "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," he 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—
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