From: Carlin Vieri
Subject: GSB -- today at 5:30
Date: Fri, 23 May 1997 15:47:43 -0400 (EDT)
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
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. I again 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; I replied 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. 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--
"Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he! --a very good joke, indeed --an excellent
jest. We will 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!"
Come enjoy a beverage (Amontillado will *not* be served) and have many
a rich laugh at this week's