The Cask of Amontillado

By Edgar Allan Poe

Page 5

said--

"Ha! ha! ha!--he! he! he!--a very good joke indeed--an excellent jest.
We shall 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!"

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient.
I called aloud--

"Fortunato!"

No answer. I called again--

"Fortunato--"

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and
let it fall within. There came forth in reply only a jingling of the
bells. My heart grew sick on account of the dampness of the catacombs.
I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into
its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected
the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has
disturbed them. _In pace requiescat!_

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Text Comparison with The Complete Poetical Works of Edgar Allan Poe Including Essays on Poetry

Page 5
Allan was not the man to wean Poe from such festering fancies: as a rule he was proud of the handsome and talented boy, and indulged him in all that wealth could purchase, but at other times he treated him with contumely, and made him feel the bitterness of his position.
Page 7
" The memory of this lady, of this "one idolatrous and purely ideal love" of his boyhood, was cherished to the last.
Page 25
Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight! From the molten golden-notes, And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells-- To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III.
Page 26
Hear the tolling of the bells-- Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan.
Page 28
" Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom-- And conquered her scruples and gloom; And we passed to the end of a vista, But were stopped by the door of a tomb-- By the door of a legended tomb; And I said--"What.
Page 34
And oh! of all tortures _That_ torture the worst Has abated--the terrible Torture of thirst, For the naphthaline river Of Passion accurst:-- I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst:-- Of a water that flows, With a lullaby sound, From a spring but a very few Feet under ground-- From a cavern not very far Down under ground.
Page 56
It is a fashion, A silly--a most silly fashion I have When I am _very_ happy.
Page 58
I' the pouts? Kiss her, Castiglione! kiss her, You dog! and make it up, I say, this minute! I've news for you both.
Page 66
'Tis well.
Page 83
_Pol_.
Page 86
I dare not--dare not-- Hold off thy hand--with that beloved name So fresh upon thy lips I will not fight thee-- I cannot--dare not.
Page 90
If I now recollect The words you used were that the Earl you knew Was neither learned nor mirthful.
Page 92
Castiglione! call your cousin hither, And let me make the noble Earl acquainted With your betrothed.
Page 105
From the wild energy of wanton haste Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart; The zone that clung around her gentle waist Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
Page 135
With the myriad stars in beauty All bedight, the heavens were seen, Radiant hopes were bright around me, Like the light of stars serene; Like the mellow midnight splendor Of the Night's irradiate queen.
Page 149
Green leaves shrank before the hot breath of furnaces.
Page 161
Meantime a day again passed--bearing away with it the last shadow of Hope.
Page 171
" The lines are not only richly ideal but full of energy, while they breathe an earnestness, an evident sincerity of sentiment, for which we look in vain throughout all the other works of this author.
Page 176
Soft airs and song, and light and bloom, Should keep them lingering by my tomb.
Page 187
In general, suggestions, having arisen pell-mell, are pursued and forgotten in a similar manner.