by Edgar Allan Poe
Adapted to chat story format by Captivated Chat
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The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.
Knowing you so well, and the nature of your soul, I will not suppose, however, that you gave utterance to any threat.
I? No! At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled—but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity.
You have said, 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.
You obviously have felt and thought deeply on this question!
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.
Burning alive? Surely not that!
He had a weak point—this Fortunato—although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. Wine connoisseur
We all know he overly prided himself a win connoisseur.
Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit.
So you have often stated!
For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity—to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires.
But surely that’s not true of Fortunato! He is famous for his taste in many things!
Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack in painting and gemmary — 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 often bought largely.
So I am aware.
I encountered my friend as it was about dusk one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season. He accosted me with excessive warmth, lost in drink.
The poor fellow has a known proclivity for excessive drinking.
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 be done wringing his hand.
You wore the mask, eh?
In every way. I said to him—”My 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.” As I remember it…
* * * * * * * * *
Here’s the deal
How? Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!
I have my doubts, 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 any one has a critical turn, it is he. He will tell me—
Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.
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. Luchesi—
I have no engagement;—come.
My friend, no. It is the severe cold you are afflicted with, not the engagement. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre.
Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado.
Fortunato, you have possessed yourself of my arm. Unhand me so that I may put on my mask of black silk, and draw my roquelaire closely about my person. I too suffer from the cold air.
Surely, but do hurry along with me to your palazzo. We must not tarry!
There may be no attendants in sight; they have absconded to make merry in honour of the hour.
Do try to keep up.
Into the vaults
I must first take from their sconces a couple of these flambeaux, and give one to you Fortunato. Now follow me and we will bow through just a few suites of rooms. You may recall this is the archway that leads into the vaults.
At last!
Be careful on this staircase, too, it is a long and winding one. Be cautious following me.
I am glad that you are leading the way.
We now come at length to the foot of the descent.
A damp ground.
The hallowed ground of the catacombs of the Montresors!
Your gait my friend is unsteady, and the bells upon your cap jingle as you walk. Silly, is it not!
The pipe.
It is farther on, but observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls.
Nitre?
Nitre. How long have you had that cough?
F: Ugh! ughh! uggh!—ughhh! ughh! ugh!—uggh! ughh! ughhh!—ugh! ughh! ughhh!—ugh! ughh! ughhh!
My poor friend, you have been coughing so long a time!
It is nothing.
Come, we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved, and happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. Therefore, we must go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchesi—
Enough, the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.
Indeed you shall not!
That’s not all…
Watch for Part 2 of the story!