68
p
Edgar Allan Poe
The Cask of Amontillado
foRTunaTo had huRT me a
thousand times and I had suffered
quietly. But then I learned that he
had laughed at my proud name,
Montresor, the name of an old
and honored family. I promised
myself that I would make him
pay for this — that I would have
revenge. You must not suppose,
however, that I spoke of this to
anyone. I would make him pay,
yes; but I would act only with the
greatest care. I must not suffer
as a result of taking my revenge.
A wrong is not made right in
that manner. And also the wrong
would not be made right unless Fortunato knew that he was paying
and knew who was forcing him to pay.
I gave Fortunato no cause to doubt me. I continued to smile in
his face, and he did not understand that I was now smiling at the
thought of what I planned for him, at the thought of my revenge.
Fortunato was a strong man, a man to be feared. But he had one
great weakness: he liked to drink good wine, and indeed he drank
much of it. So he knew a lot about fine wines, and proudly believed
that he was a trained judge of them. I, too, knew old wines well, and
69
Edgar Allan Poe: Storyteller
I bought the best I could find. And wine, I thought, wine would give
me my revenge!
It was almost dark, one evening in the spring, when I met
Fortunato in the street, alone. He spoke to me more warmly than was
usual, for already he had drunk more wine than was good for him. I
acted pleased to see him, and I shook his hand, as if he had been my
closest friend.
“Fortunato! How are you?”
“Montresor! Good evening, my friend.”
“My dear Fortunato! I am indeed glad that I have met you. I
was just thinking of you. For I have been tasting my new wine. I have
bought a full cask of a fine wine which they tell me is Amontillado.
But….”
“Amontillado! Quite impossible.”
“I know. It does not seem possible. As I could not find you I
was just going to talk to Luchresi. If anyone understands wines it is
Luchresi. He will tell me….”
“Luchresi? He does not know one wine from another!”
“But they say he knows as much about wines as you know.”
“Ho! — Come. Let us go.”
“Go where?”
“To your vaults. To taste the wine.”
“No, my friend, no. I can see that you are not well. And the
vaults are cold and wet.”
“I do not care. Let us go. I’m well enough. The cold is nothing.
Amontillado! Someone is playing games with you. And Luchresi! Ha!
Luchresi knows nothing about wines, nothing at all.”
As he spoke, Fortunato took my arm, and I allowed him to hurry
me to my great stone palace, where my family, the Montresors, had
lived for centuries. There was no one at home. I had told the servants
that they must not leave the palace, as I would not return until the
following morning and they must care for the place. This, I knew, was
enough to make it certain that they would all leave as soon as my back
was turned.
I took down from their places on the wall two brightly burning
lights. I gave one of these to Fortunato and led him to a wide doorway.
There we could see the stone steps going down into the darkness.
