The Cask of Amontillado

The Cask of Amontillado Summary | Detailed Summary

This story is told in the first person by a man named Montresor. Montresor begins by saying that he has suffered a thousand injuries from a man named Fortunato. Montresor has born the injuries the best he could, but he reached a point where Fortunato insulted him, and Montreso vowed to get his revenge. Montresor kept his plan to punish Fortunato to himself, because he knew that he not only wanted to punish him, he wanted to do it at no risk to himself.

Montresor also gave no clue to Fortunato that he had plans to retaliate. He would smile and behave as if nothing were wrong. Only Montresor knew that the smile meant he was thinking of Fortunato's destruction.

Montresor knew that, in many respects, Fortunato was a man who was respected and feared. However, he did have one weakness—he considered himself to be a connoisseur of wine. Being Italian, Fortunato's knowledge was pure. Montresor also bought Italian wines, whenever he could.

So one evening, during carnival, Montresor came across Fortunato dressed in a harlequin suit and hat with the bells on top. They greeted each other warmly—Fortunato especially, because he had been drinking too much already. Montresor complimented him on his healthy demeanor and told him that he had just acquired some Amontillado, but he had some doubts about its authenticity. Montresor could not find Fortunato at the time to ask his advice, but bought it because he did not want to risk losing out on such a bargain. Seeing that Fortunato was having a good time at the carnival, he would go find Luchresi to get his opinion. Fortunato was insulted, because Luchresi would not be able to tell Amontillado from sherry.

Fortunato insists that they go to Montresor's vaults so that he may test it. Montresor protests—he does not want to ruin Fortunato's night at the carnival. Fortunato insists, and they hurry to his home. There were no servants at home, because of the carnival, so Montresor took two torches, one for himself and one for Fortunato, and they passed through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. Finally, they arrived at the foot of the catacombs of Montresor's ancestors.

He could hear the bells on Fortunato's cap while he followed behind him through the dark passageways. Montresor pointed out the nitre on the cavern walls and commented that it might be too offensive to Fortunato's cough, but the man wanted to proceed. He would not die of a cough—true enough, thought Montresor. Montresor gave Fortunato a drink of Medoc to keep the coughing at bay. Fortunato drank to the buried in the catacombs and Montresor drank to Fortunato's long life.

Fortunato remarked on how extensive the vaults seemed to be—the Montresors must have been a great family. Montresor tells him that their family arms show a huge human foot crushing a serpent, whose fangs are imbedded in the heel. The family motto is Nemo me impune lacessit—no on insults me with impunity.

Fortunato's eyes are sparkling from the Medoc and his bells are jingling while they move further and further into the heart of the vault, through walls of skeletons with casks tucked away here and there.

One more time, he tells Fortunato that the air is heavy with nitre and he does not want to be responsible for his getting sick. They should go back before it is too late. Fortunato wants to keep going but would like another drink of the Medoc. They moved deeper and deeper yet, until the foul air doused their torches from flames to mere glows.

Finally, they have come to the end and there appeared a tiny crypt whose walls had been lined with human remains. It measured only four feet in depth, three feet in width, and six or seven feet high. It did not seem to have any purpose, other than the space between two roof supports. It was, however, backed by a solid wall of granite. Fortunato tried to hold his torch up to see how to proceed and realized that they had reached the extent of the passageway.

Montresor immediately chained him to the granite. Imbedded in the granite were two big, iron staples about two feet from each other. A short chain hung from one of them and a padlock from the other. Montresor threw the chains around Fortunato's waist and secured the lock with a key. Again, he asked Fortunato whether or not he would consider returning. Fortunato was too dazed to realize his circumstance and demanded to taste the Amontillado.

Meanwhile, Montresor was uncovering some building stones and mortar he had hidden in a pile of bones. He then began to quickly wall off the entrance of the tiny little crypt. After the first tier, he noticed that Fortunato was beginning to sober up. He could hear the low moans from the darkness. It was not until Montresor had laid four tiers that he heard any noise; this time the jangling of the chains that held Fortunato. The noise lasted several minutes, and Montresor stopped his work. When it was quiet again, he finished up to the seventh tier and held his torch up to look at the chained Fortunato.

The man's screams made Montresor jump back in horror, and he hesitated for just a moment. Then he returned Fortunato's cries with just as much strength and duration and finally they both grew silent. Montresor then completed the eighth, ninth, tenth, and most of the eleventh tiers, but there remained one stone missing.

Montresor lifted the stone and had it partially in place when he was struck by the sound of Fortunato's laugh, and then his sad voice said that this was a very good joke; they would have many laughs over it at the palazzo, and wasn't it getting late—shouldn't they be getting back to the rest at the palazzo? Montresor replied only, "Let us be gone." Fortunato begged one last time… for the love of God, Montresor! Then he was silent.

Montresor called to him again and again and still no answer. So he stuck a torch in the hole and let it fall in. All he heard was the jingling of the bells. Montresor's heart was sick, but determined that it was the dampness of the catacombs and nothing more. So he plastered the last stone in place and rebuilt the rampart of old bones in front of it.

No one has bothered the place for twenty five years. In pace requiescat—rest in peace.