Edgar Allan Poe is well known for writing short stories with a macabre, or ghastly, theme. In this story, the narrator—Montresor—believes Fortunato has spoken ill of him. Montresor has plotted revenge and lured Fortunato into his cellar with the promise of a taste of a very special type of wine, called Amontillado. Fortunato is having a coughing fit at the beginning of this excerpt. Monstresor pretends to be worried about him, but he really wants revenge.

Question

"Ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!"
My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.
"It is nothing," he said, at last.
"Come," I said, with decision, "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—"
"Enough," he said; "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough."
"True—true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily—but you should use all proper caution." ...
He again took my arm, and we proceeded.
"These vaults," he said, "are extensive. . . . But let us proceed to the Amontillado."
"Be it so," I said, offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior recess, in depth about four feet in width three, in height six or seven. 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. . . .
"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."
As 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 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. ... 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. …
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 shall have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—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!
How do the interactions between Montresor and Fortunato in “The Cask of Amontillado” advance the plot? Use evidence from the text to support your response. Your response should be at least two complete paragraphs.

Answer 1

In Edgar Allan Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado," the interactions between Montresor and Fortunato serve as a driving force for the plot, revealing Montresor’s calculated machinations and Fortunato’s tragic ignorance. From the outset, Montresor's facade of concern for Fortunato’s health plays a critical role in luring him deeper into the catacombs. When Fortunato coughs, Montresor expresses feigned worry, suggesting they turn back: "Your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was." Montresor’s words not only highlight Fortunato’s social standing but also manipulate his ego. Fortunato's dismissive response, "the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me," reflects his pride and leads him deeper into Montresor's trap. Montresor's calculated attempts to keep Fortunato’s interest piqued with the allure of Amontillado further emphasizes the manipulation at play, as he expertly plays off Fortunato's desire to maintain his reputation as a connoisseur of wine.

As they descend further into the catacombs, the interactions highlight the growing tension and Fortunato’s increasing vulnerability. Montresor’s mention of Luchesi, another wine expert, serves as another manipulative tactic to incite jealousy and competition within Fortunato, thereby ensuring he continues to follow Montresor. When they arrive at the crypt where Montresor intends to seal Fortunato’s fate, his eagerness to showcase the Amontillado smoothly transitions into the sinister act of entombing him alive: "As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones." The moments leading up to this reveal the stark contrast between Fortunato's jovial demeanor, believing he is at a witty gathering about wine, and Montresor's chilling resolve to exact his revenge. The final exchanges underscore Fortunato’s realization of the dire situation when he pleads, "For the love of God, Montresor!" Yet, Montresor echoes the mockery of his earlier words, highlighting his complete disregard for Fortunato’s pleas as he seals him in, demonstrating how the interactions not only advance the plot but also reveal the dark depths of Montresor's revenge. The chilling conclusion, "In pace requiescat!" encapsulates the permanence of Montresor's actions, leaving Fortunato as nothing more than a victim of a malicious scheme rooted in manipulation and deceit.