by Edgar Allan Poe

October, 1997 [Etext #1065]*



The Cask of Amontillado


The 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. 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. 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.

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.

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