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 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 continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

I continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

You have been imposed upon.

There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour 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.

Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris.

He turned towards me, and looked into my eves with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave.

He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand.

He repeated the movement --a grotesque one.

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.

Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.

"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels.

In niche, and finding an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered.

I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within.