The Cask of Amontillado
Edgar Allan Poe
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I 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 unredressed1
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 goodwill. 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 practice 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.2 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 today! But I have received a pipe3 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 anyone has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me—”
“Luchesi cannot tell amontillado from sherry.”
)
