Fortunato was an anemic man of poor eminence and yet he was cherished by all! I could not contradict the appraisal for a man such as him, for it was in fact very true. For I was once like Fortunato full of desires and dreams as well. I was youthful just as he and content on fulfilling the courtship between a man and a fine Amontillado. I was pleased and the people who sought me were just as contented. This feeling that was rapidly traveling through my body was not warmth, no it was power. Until one day unexpectedly my mother had fallen ill and was unpleasant with a sickness that was soon to spreadthroughout her body and soul. I was to leave soon and was gone at a period of some time, which at this moment I dreadfully regret to this very day. I knew it was a mistake and now I am sure of it.


When I had returned from my journey and safely was back in my beloved Italy, I was disgusted to seek this man, Fortunato, this man they replaced over me! He did not possess the ways of a fine wine seller; he was only an amateur, a man with a mind filled with nonsense! Oh, I was furious and irate with this man with no substance and at that not a thought about wine at all. At that moment I vowed revenge, I would not just punish him woefully, but with impunity. To accomplish this I must take care as to not lead him on and to lead him I must be discreet.