The Cask of Amontillado
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!_