From the long rows of bottles which were lying on the floor, among the bones, I chose one which contained a very good wine. Since I did not have anything to open the bottle with, I struck the stone wall with it and broke off the small end. I offered the bottle to Fortunato.
“Here, Fortunato. Drink some of this fine Medoc. It will help to keep us warm. Drink!”
“Thank you, my friend. I drink to the dead who lie sleeping around us.”
“And I, Fortunato — I drink to your long life.”
“Ahh! A very fine wine, indeed! But the Amontillado?” “It is farther on. Come.”