{"id":12996,"date":"2024-03-20T00:02:13","date_gmt":"2024-03-20T00:02:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/?p=12996"},"modified":"2024-03-20T00:02:31","modified_gmt":"2024-03-20T00:02:31","slug":"the-cask-of-amontillado-by-edgar-allan-poe-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/the-cask-of-amontillado-by-edgar-allan-poe-2\/","title":{"rendered":"The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The<\/h2>\n

The Cask of Amontillado <\/span><\/h2>\n

by Edgar Allan Poe<\/span><\/h2>\n

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. <\/span>At length<\/span><\/i> I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled\u2014but 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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 <\/span>now<\/span><\/i> was at the thought of his immolation.<\/span><\/p>\n

He had a weak point\u2014this Fortunato\u2014although 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\u2014to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian <\/span>millionaires<\/span><\/i>. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack\u2014but 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

I said to him: \u201cMy 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.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d said he. \u201cAmontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have my doubts,\u201d I replied; \u201cand 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.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAmontillado!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have my doubts.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAmontillado!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I must satisfy them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAmontillado!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAs you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLuchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome, let us go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhither?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo your vaults.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchesi\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have no engagement;\u2014come.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy 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.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting on a mask of black silk, and drawing a <\/span>roquelaire<\/span><\/i> closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe pipe,\u201d said he.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is farther on,\u201d said I; \u201cbut observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNitre?\u201d he asked, at length.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNitre,\u201d I replied. \u201cHow long have you had that cough?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUgh! ugh! ugh!\u2014ugh! ugh! ugh!\u2014ugh! ugh! ugh!\u2014ugh! ugh! ugh!\u2014ugh! ugh! ugh!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is nothing,\u201d he said, at last.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome,\u201d I said, with decision, \u201cwe 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\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEnough,\u201d he said; \u201cthe cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTrue\u2014true,\u201d I replied; \u201cand, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily\u2014but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the damps.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDrink,\u201d I said, presenting him the wine.<\/span><\/p>\n

He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI drink,\u201d he said, \u201cto the buried that repose around us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I to your long life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He again took my arm, and we proceeded.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThese vaults,\u201d he said, \u201care extensive.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Montresors,\u201d I replied, \u201cwere a great and numerous family.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI forget your arms.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA huge human foot d\u2019or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the motto?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c<\/span>Nemo me impune lacessit<\/span><\/i>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood!\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe nitre!\u201d I said: \u201csee, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river\u2019s bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is nothing,\u201d he said; \u201clet us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Gr\u00e2ve. 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement\u2014a grotesque one.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou do not comprehend?\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot I,\u201d I replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen you are not of the brotherhood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou are not of the masons.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes,\u201d I said, \u201cyes, yes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou? Impossible! A mason?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA mason,\u201d I replied.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA sign,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is this,\u201d I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of my <\/span>roquelaire<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou jest,\u201d he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. \u201cBut let us proceed to the Amontillado.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBe it so,\u201d 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavored to pry into the depths of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cProceed,\u201d I said; \u201cherein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi\u2014\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe is an ignoramus,\u201d 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPass your hand,\u201d I said, \u201cover the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is <\/span>very<\/span><\/i> damp. Once more let me <\/span>implore<\/span><\/i> you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Amontillado!\u201d ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTrue,\u201d I replied; \u201cthe Amontillado.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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 <\/span>not<\/span><\/i> 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. 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u2014I 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 clamored. I re-echoed\u2014I aided\u2014I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still.<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHa! ha! ha!\u2014he! he!\u2014a very good joke indeed\u2014an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo\u2014he! he! he!\u2014over our wine\u2014he! he! he!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Amontillado!\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe! he! he!\u2014he! he! he!\u2014yes, 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.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, \u201clet us be gone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c<\/span>For the love of God, Montressor!<\/span><\/i>\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said, \u201cfor the love of God!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFortunato!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

No answer. I called again\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFortunato!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u2014on account of the dampness of the catacombs. I hastened to make an end of my labor. 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. <\/span>In pace requiescat!<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Bio<\/span><\/p>\n

Edgar Allan Poe was an American writer, poet, critic and editor born in 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts. Both his parents died when he was very young and he was taken in by the Allan family of Richmond, Virginia. Poe excelled academically both in school and at the University of Virginia, but was forced to leave university due to lack of funds. His publishing career began in 1827 with the poetry collection Tamerlane and Other Poems. He went on to publish acclaimed dark, mysterious stories and poems including \u201cThe Raven\u201d, \u201cThe Fall of the House of Usher\u201d, and \u201cThe Tell-Tale Heart\u201d. Considered a pioneer of detective fiction, Poe\u2019s story \u201cThe Murders in the Rue Morgue\u201d introduced one of literature\u2019s first detectives. Known for his Gothic tales of the macabre, he also wrote satires, humor, and literary criticism. Despite successes including winning a prize for \u201cMS Found in a Bottle\u201d, Poe struggled financially and died in 1849 at age 40 under mysterious circumstances.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Summary<\/span><\/p>\n

“The Cask of Amontillado” is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe that tells the tale of Montresor, a man who seeks revenge against Fortunato, a fellow nobleman who has insulted him. Montresor lures Fortunato into the catacombs beneath his palazzo during the carnival season, using the promise of a rare cask of Amontillado wine as bait.<\/span><\/p>\n

As they descend deeper into the catacombs, Montresor continues to ply Fortunato with wine, taking advantage of his drunkenness and pride in his wine expertise. Despite Fortunato’s cough and the dampness of the catacombs, he insists on continuing the search for the Amontillado.<\/span><\/p>\n

When they reach the deepest part of the catacombs, Montresor chains Fortunato to the wall in a small niche. He then proceeds to wall up the entrance to the niche, effectively burying Fortunato alive. Fortunato initially believes it to be a joke but soon realizes the grim reality of his situation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Montresor ignores Fortunato’s pleas and continues to build the wall, sealing him in. The story ends with Montresor revealing that the events took place fifty years ago and that no one has disturbed the remains since, concluding with the Latin phrase “In pace requiescat!” meaning “May he rest in peace!”<\/span><\/p>\n

The story is a dark tale of revenge, with Montresor’s calculated and merciless actions serving as a reminder of the depths of human cruelty and the consequences of pride and insult.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":12997,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[88,28,273],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12996","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-horror","category-poe","category-short-short"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12996","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12996"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12996\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12998,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12996\/revisions\/12998"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/12997"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12996"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12996"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12996"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}