"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre.Indeed, it is very damp.Once more let me implore you to return.No? Then I must positively leave you.
But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power.""The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before spoken.Throwing them aside, I soon un-covered 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.
I had scarcely laid the first tier of the 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 not 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 labours 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.Iagain paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.
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-- I 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; Ireplied to the yells of him who clamoured.I re-echoed-- I aided--I surpassed them in volume and in strength.I did this, and the clamourer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close.Ihad 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 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!
End