“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.”
“Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!”
“Come, let us go.” “To your vaults.”
“Enough the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.”
“Come,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——”
I drink,to the buried that repose around us."
“You do not comprehend?” he said.“Not I,” I replied.“Then you are not of the brotherhood.”“How?”“You are not of the masons.”“Yes, yes,” I said; “yes, yes.”“You? Impossible! A mason?”“A mason,” I replied.“A sign,” he said.“It is this,” I answered, producing a trowel from beneath the folds of my roquelaire.
“The Amontillado!” I said.
“Ha! ha! ha!—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!”