With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.
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!"
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 return only a jingling of the bells.
My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so.
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!