"Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven, The Masque of the Red Death, and The Cask of Amontillado" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."

"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous
family."

"I forget your arms."

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a
serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel."

"And the motto?"

" Nemo me impune lacessit."

"Good!" he said.

The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own
fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through walls
of piled bones, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into
the inmost recesses of catacombs. I paused again, and this time I
made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.

"The nitre!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss
upon the vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of
moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is
too late. Your cough--"

"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another
draught of the Medoc."

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it
at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and
threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand.

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement--a
grotesque one.

"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?"