Líbila se vám povídka? Běhá vám mráz po zádech? Zkusíme stejné pocity navodit českým překladem.
1. Zamyslete se nad charakterem originálního textu. Kterými prvky autor zesiluje napětí?
2. Zkuste přeložit následující věty a vložte svůj překlad do komentáře k tomuto blogu. Porovnejte vzájemně své verze.
Putting on a mask of black silk, and drawing a _roquelaire_ closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
3. V textu jsou dvě tučné vyznačené části; přeložte je a vložte do komentáře k tomuto blogu. Deadline: pondělí 10:00
_________________________
The Cask of Amontillado
Edgar Allan Poe
The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best
could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul,
will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. _At length_ I would be avenged; this was a
point definitely settled--but the very definitiveness with which it was
resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I
must not only punish, but punish with impunity.
A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger
fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I
given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will.
I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not
perceive that my smile _now_ was at the thought of his immolation.
He had a weak point--this Fortunato--although in other
regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in
wine. Few Italians have the true
virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time
and opportunity--to practise imposture upon the British and
Austrian _millionaires_. In painting and
gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack--but in the matter of old
wines he was sincere. In this respect I
did not differ from him materially: I was skillful in the Italian vintages
myself, and bought largely whenever I could.
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of
the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he
had been drinking much. The man wore
motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted
by the conical cap and bells. I was so
pleased to see him, that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
I said to him--"My dear Fortunato, you are luckily
met. How remarkably well you are looking
to-day! But I have received a pipe of
what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."
"How?" said he.
"Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible!
And in the middle of the carnival!"
"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was
silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the
matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."
"Amontillado!"
"I have my doubts."
"Amontillado!"
"And I must satisfy them."
"Amontillado!"
"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If any one has a critical turn, it is
he. He will tell me--"
"Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."
"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a
match for your
own."
"Come, let us go."
"Whither?"
"To your vaults."
"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good
nature. I perceive you have an
engagement. Luchesi--"
"I have no engagement;--come."
"My friend, no.
It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you
are afflicted. The vaults are
insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre."
"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You
have been imposed upon. And as for
Luchesi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm.
Putting on a mask of black silk, and drawing a _roquelaire_ closely about my
person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make
merry in honour of the time. I had told
them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicit
orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew,
to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was
turned.
I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to
Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led
into the vaults. I passed down a long
and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at
length to the foot of the descent, and stood together on the damp ground of the
catacombs of the Montresors.
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his
cap jingled as he strode.
"The pipe," said he.
"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the
white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls."
He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy
orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.
"Nitre?" he asked, at length.
"Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?"
"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. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the damps."
Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a
long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.
"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.
He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while
his bells jingled.
"I drink," he said, "to the buried that
repose around us."
"And I to your long life."
He again took my arm, and we proceeded.
"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?"
"A mason," I replied.
"A sign," he said, "a sign."
"It is this," I answered, producing a trowel from
beneath the folds of my _roquelaire_.
"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few
paces. "But let us proceed to the
Amontillado."
"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the
cloak and again 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.
It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch,
endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not
enable us to see.
"Proceed," I said; "herein is the
Amontillado. As for Luchesi--"
"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he
stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of
the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly
bewildered. A moment more and I had
fettered him to the granite. In its
surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet,
horizontally. From one of these depended
a short chain, from the other a padlock.
Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds
to secure it. He was too much astounded
to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped
back from the recess.
"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you
cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed,
it is _very_ damp. Once more let me
_implore_ you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little
attentions in my power."
"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. 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 shall 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 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!_
