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diff --git a/1062-h/1062-h.htm b/1062-h/1062-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49c6224 --- /dev/null +++ b/1062-h/1062-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,947 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The First Project Gutenberg Collection Of Edgar Allan +Poe</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +DIV.book { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; } +TABLE.bold { font-weight: bold; } +P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; } +P.noindent { text-indent: 0em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: right; } +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1062 ***</div> + +<center> +<hr size="3" width="90%" noshade> +<br> +<h1>THE FIRST<br> +PROJECT GUTENBERG<br> +COLLECTION<br> +OF EDGAR ALLAN POE</h1> + +<hr size="3" width="90%" noshade> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<br> +<table class="bold" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary= +"Contents"> +<tr> +<td><a href="#1">THE RAVEN</a></td> +<td> [Etext #1063]</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#2">THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH</a></td> +<td> [Etext #1064]</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#3">THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO</a></td> +<td> [Etext #1065]</td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> + +<br> +<hr width="90%"> +<br> +<center> +<h2><a name="1">THE RAVEN</a></h2> + +<br> +<table border="0" cellpadding="6" cellspacing="6" summary= +"The Raven"> +<tr> +<td><font size="+1">O</font>NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I +pondered, weak and weary,<br> +Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten +lore—<br> +While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a +tapping,<br> +As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.<br> +“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, +“tapping at my chamber door—<br> +<p class="noindent">Only this and nothing more.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,<br> +And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the +floor.<br> +Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to +borrow<br> +From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost +Lenore—<br> +For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name +Lenore—<br> +<p class="noindent">Nameless here for evermore.</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple +curtain<br> +Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt +before;<br> +So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood +repeating<br> +“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber +door—<br> +Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;<br> +<p class="noindent">This it is and nothing more.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no +longer,<br> +“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your +forgiveness I implore;<br> +But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came +rapping,<br> +And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,<br> +That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened +wide the door;—<br> +<p class="noindent">Darkness there and nothing more.</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there +wondering, fearing,<br> +Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream +before;<br> +But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no +token,<br> +And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, +“Lenore!”<br> +This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, +“Lenore!”—<br> +<p class="noindent">Merely this and nothing more.</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me +burning,<br> +Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.<br> +“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at +my window lattice;<br> +Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery +explore—<br> +Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery +explore;—<br> +<p class="noindent">’Tis the wind and nothing +more.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and +flutter,<br> +In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore.<br> +Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed +he,<br> +But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber +door—<br> +Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber +door—<br> +<p class="noindent">Perched, and sat, and nothing more.</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,<br> +By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,<br> +“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, +“art sure no craven,<br> +Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly +shore—<br> +Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian +shore!”<br> +<p class="noindent">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so +plainly,<br> +Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;<br> +For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being<br> +Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber +door—<br> +Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber +door,<br> +<p class="noindent">With such name as +“Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke +only<br> +That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did +outpour.<br> +Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he +fluttered—<br> +Till I scarcely more than muttered: “Other friends have +flown before—<br> +On the morrow <i>he</i> will leave me, as my Hopes have flown +before.”<br> +<p class="noindent">Then the bird said, +“Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly +spoken,<br> +“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its +only stock and store,<br> +Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster<br> +Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden +bore—<br> +Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore<br> +<p class="noindent">Of +‘Never—nevermore.’”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into +smiling,<br> +Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and +door;<br> +Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking<br> +Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of +yore—<br> +What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of +yore<br> +<p class="noindent">Meant in croaking +“Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable +expressing<br> +To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s +core;<br> +This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining<br> +On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated +o’er,<br> +But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating +o’er<br> +<p class="noindent"><i>She</i> shall press, ah, nevermore!</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen +censer<br> +Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted +floor.<br> +“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent +thee—by these angels he hath sent thee<br> +Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of +Lenore!<br> +Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost +Lenore!”<br> +<p class="noindent">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>“Prophet!” said I, “thing of +evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—<br> +Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here +ashore,<br> +Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land +enchanted—<br> +On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I +implore—<br> +Is there—<i>is</i> there balm in Gilead?—tell +me—tell me, I implore!”<br> +<p class="noindent">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>“Prophet!” said I, “thing of +evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!<br> +By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both +adore—<br> +Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant +Aidenn,<br> +It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name +Lenore—<br> +Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name +Lenore.”<br> +<p class="noindent">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I +shrieked, upstarting—<br> +“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s +Plutonian shore!<br> +Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has +spoken!<br> +Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my +door!<br> +Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my +door!”<br> +<p class="noindent">Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”</p> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is +sitting<br> +On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br> +And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is +dreaming<br> +And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on +the floor;<br> +And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the +floor<br> +<p class="noindent">Shall be lifted—nevermore!</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +</center> + +<div class="book"><br> +<hr> +<br> +<center> +<h2><a name="2">THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH</a></h2> +</center> + +<p><br> +<font size="+1">T</font>HE “Red Death” had long +devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or +so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness +and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden +dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with +dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon +the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from +the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole +seizure, progress, and termination of the disease, were the +incidents of half an hour.</p> + +<p>But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. +When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his +presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the +knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the +deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an +extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the +prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty +wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, +having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the +bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress nor egress +to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The +abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers +might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take +care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to +think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. +There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were +ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was +wine. All these and security were within. Without was the +“Red Death.”</p> + +<p>It was towards the close of the fifth or sixth month of his +seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, +that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a +masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.</p> + +<p>It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me +tell of the rooms in which it was held. These were seven—an +imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long +and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to +the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is +scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different, as might have +been expected from the duke’s love of the <i>bizarre</i>. +The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision +embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp +turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel +effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall +and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which +pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained +glass whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of +the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the +eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue—and +vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in +its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The +third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth +was furnished and lighted with orange—the fifth with +white—the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was +closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over +the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a +carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, +the color of the windows failed to correspond with the +decorations. The panes here were scarlet—a deep blood +color. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp +or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay +scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no +light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite +of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there +stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier +of fire, that projected its rays through the tinted glass and so +glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude +of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black +chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark +hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the +extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of +those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough +to set foot within its precincts at all.</p> + +<p>It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the +western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to +and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the +minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be +stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound +which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of +so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, +the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, +momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and +thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was +a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the +chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest +grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over +their brows as if in confused revery or meditation. But when the +echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the +assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at +their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each +to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce +in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty +minutes (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of +the Time that flies), there came yet another chiming of the +clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and +meditation as before.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent +revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye +for colors and effects. He disregarded the <i>decora</i> of mere +fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions +glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have +thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was +necessary to hear and see and touch him to be <i>sure</i> that he +was not.</p> + +<p>He had directed, in great part, the movable embellishments of +the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great +<i>fête</i>; and it was his own guiding taste which had +given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. +There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and +phantasm—much of what has been since seen in +“Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited +limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the +madman fashions. There were much of the beautiful, much of the +wanton, much of the <i>bizarre</i>, something of the terrible, +and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and +fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of +dreams. And these—the dreams—writhed in and about, +taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the +orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there +strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. +And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the +voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. +But the echoes of the chime die away—they have endured but +an instant—and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after +them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the +dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking +hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays +from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly +of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for +the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through +the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery +appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there +comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly +emphatic than any which reaches <i>their</i> ears who indulge in +the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.</p> + +<p>But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them +beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly +on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon +the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the +evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy +cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve +strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it +happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, +into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. +And thus too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes +of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many +individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of +the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention +of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new +presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at +length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of +disapprobation and surprise—then, finally, of terror, of +horror, and of disgust.</p> + +<p>In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may +well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited +such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was +nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded +Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s +indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most +reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the +utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are +matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, +seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the +stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall +and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of +the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly +to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the +closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. +And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the +mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume +the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in +<i>blood</i>—and his broad brow, with all the features of +the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.</p> + +<p>When the eyes of the Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral +image (which, with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully +to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he +was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong +shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow +reddened with rage.</p> + +<p>“Who dares”—he demanded hoarsely of the +courtiers who stood near him—“who dares insult us +with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask +him—that we may know whom we have to hang, at sunrise, from +the battlements!”</p> + +<p>It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the +Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout +the seven rooms loudly and clearly, for the prince was a bold and +robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his +hand.</p> + +<p>It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group +of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a +slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the +intruder, who, at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with +deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. +But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of +the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none +who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed +within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast +assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the +rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the +same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from +the first, through the blue chamber to the purple—through +the purple to the green—through the green to the +orange—through this again to the white—and even +thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to +arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, +maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, +rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed +him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He +bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid +impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating +figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the +velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. +There was a sharp cry—and the dagger dropped gleaming upon +the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterward, fell prostrate +in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of +despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into +the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure +stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, +gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave cerements and +corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, +untenanted by any tangible form.</p> + +<p>And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had +come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the +revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died +each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the +ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the +flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red +Death held illimitable dominion over all.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<hr> +<br> +<center> +<h2><a name="3">THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO</a></h2> +</center> + +<p><br> +<font size="+1">T</font>HE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had +borne as I best 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. <i>At +length</i> 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. 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>now</i> was at the thought of his immolation.</p> + +<p>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 practise +imposture upon the British and Austrian <i>millionaires</i>. 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 skilful +in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I +could.</p> + +<p>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. 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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“How?” said he. “Amontillado? A pipe? +Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Amontillado!”</p> + +<p>“I have my doubts.”</p> + +<p>“Amontillado!”</p> + +<p>“And I must satisfy them.”</p> + +<p>“Amontillado!”</p> + +<p>“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—”</p> + +<p>“Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.”</p> + +<p>“And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a +match for your own.”</p> + +<p>“Come, let us go.”</p> + +<p>“Whither?”</p> + +<p>“To your vaults.”</p> + +<p>“My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. +I perceive you have an engagement. Luchesi—”</p> + +<p>“I have no engagement;—come.”</p> + +<p>“My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe +cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are +insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm. Putting +on a mask of black silk, and drawing a <i>roquelaire</i> closely +about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.</p> + +<p>There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make +merry in honor of the time. I had told them that I should not +return until the morning, and had given them explicit orders not +to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well +knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as +soon as my back was turned.</p> + +<p>I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to +Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the +archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and +winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. +We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together +on the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.</p> + +<p>The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap +jingled as he strode.</p> + +<p>“The pipe?” said he.</p> + +<p>“It is farther on,” said I; “but observe the +white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls.”</p> + +<p>He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy +orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.</p> + +<p>“Nitre?” he asked, at length.</p> + +<p>“Nitre,” I replied. “How long have you had +that cough?”</p> + +<p>“Ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! +ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!”</p> + +<p>My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many +minutes.</p> + +<p>“It is nothing,” he said, at last.</p> + +<p>“Come,” I said, with decision, “we will go +back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, +beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be +missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, +and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is +Luchesi—”</p> + +<p>“Enough,” he said; “the cough is a mere +nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a +cough.”</p> + +<p>“True—true,” I replied; “and, indeed, +I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily; but you should +use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us +from the damps.”</p> + +<p>Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a +long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.</p> + +<p>“Drink,” I said, presenting him the wine.</p> + +<p>He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to +me familiarly, while his bells jingled.</p> + +<p>“I drink,” he said, “to the buried that +repose around us.”</p> + +<p>“And I to your long life.”</p> + +<p>He again took my arm, and we proceeded.</p> + +<p>“These vaults,” he said, “are +extensive.”</p> + +<p>“The Montresors,” I replied, “were a great +and numerous family.”</p> + +<p>“I forget your arms.”</p> + +<p>“A huge human foot d’or, in a field azure; the +foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the +heel.”</p> + +<p>“And the motto?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Nemo me impune lacessit.</i>”</p> + +<p>“Good!” he said.</p> + +<p>The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own +fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls of +piled bones, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the +inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I +made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.</p> + +<p>“The nitre!” I said; “see, it increases. It +hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river’s +bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will +go back ere it is too late. Your cough—”</p> + +<p>“It is nothing,” he said; “let us go on. But +first, another draught of the Medoc.”</p> + +<p>I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grâve. He emptied +it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed +and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not +understand.</p> + +<p>I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement—a +grotesque one.</p> + +<p>“You do not comprehend?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Not I,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“Then you are not of the brotherhood.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“You are not of the masons.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” I said; “yes, yes.”</p> + +<p>“You? Impossible! A mason?”</p> + +<p>“A mason,” I replied.</p> + +<p>“A sign,” he said.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” I answered, producing a trowel from +beneath the folds of my <i>roquelaire</i>.</p> + +<p>“You jest,” he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. +“But let us proceed to the Amontillado.”</p> + +<p>“Be it so,” I said, replacing the tool beneath the +cloak, and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. +We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed +through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and +descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness +of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.</p> + +<p>At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another +less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled +to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of +Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented +in this manner. From the fourth the bones had been thrown down, +and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a +mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the +displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior recess, in +depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It +seemed to have been constructed for no especial use within +itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the +colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by +one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.</p> + +<p>It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, +endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination +the feeble light did not enable us to see.</p> + +<p>“Proceed,” I said; “herein is the +Amontillado. As for Luchesi—”</p> + +<p>“He is an ignoramus,” interrupted my friend, as he +stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his +heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, +and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly +bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. +In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other +about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short +chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his +waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was +too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back +from the recess.</p> + +<p>“Pass your hand,” I said, “over the wall; +you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is <i>very</i> +damp. Once more let me <i>implore</i> you to return. No? Then I +must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the +little attentions in my power.”</p> + +<p>“The Amontillado!” ejaculated my friend, not yet +recovered from his astonishment.</p> + +<p>“True,” I replied; “the +Amontillado.”</p> + +<p>As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones +of which I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon +uncovered 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>not</i> 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 labors 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. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the +mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.</p> + +<p>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. I replied to the yells of him who +clamored. I re-echoed—I aided—I surpassed them in +volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew +still.</p> + +<p>It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had +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—</p> + +<p>“Ha! ha! ha!—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!”</p> + +<p>“The Amontillado!” I said.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I said, “let us be gone.”</p> + +<p>“<i>For the love of God, Montresor!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” I said, “for the love of +God!”</p> + +<p>But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew +impatient. I called aloud:</p> + +<p>“Fortunato!”</p> + +<p>No answer. I called again:</p> + +<p>“Fortunato!”</p> + +<p>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 labor. +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. <i>In +pace requiescat!</i><br> +<br> +</p> + +<hr size="3" noshade> +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1062 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |