1) Montresor and Zaroff both think that as long as it is justified, killing another human should be permitted under certain circumstances. They view the world similarly, but not completely the same because Montessor has one target: Fortunato, and a personal reason that, in his mind, makes his death a necessity. General Zaroff, on the other hand, thinks that he is a god-appointed hunter, and therefore he should be able to kill whomever, or whatever, he wishes. They both have the notion that they are slightly superior to everyone around them. Montessor and Zaroff lead completely different lives. Zaroff is isolated, while Montressor is an object of public envy. They are sophisticated, well educated, polite, and a wee bit self-centered. The two men probably dress about the same on an everyday basis: the finest cloths, evening coats, polished shoes, and fitted trousers. But in The Cask of Amontillado, Montressor is clad in black in preparation for a grand festival.
2) Fortunato insulted Montressor’s family honor, and to Montressor, that is a crime worth dying for.
3) Fortunato was inebriated, trusting, oblivious, and thought he was with a friend who was simply taking him to taste very expensive wine, not attempting to bury him alive.
4) Montressor and Fortunato are similar because they are both very wealthy, self-involved, and quick-witted men. If Fortunato wasn’t impaired, I have no doubt that he could have figured out Montressor’s murderous plan and saved his own life. But because he was a connoisseur of fine wines, he was already tipsy when Montressor carried out his scheme, and followed willingly when he mentioned the tasting of a quality vino.
Monologue:
Amontillado! I exclaim, Amontillado, Amontillado! Excitement fills me, as I comprehend my dear Montressor’s, meaning! So rare and now I hear that my closest confidant has a whole pipe! I had indulged this evening upon my own choice liquor, and now find myself dressed like a buffoon and drunk as a court fool at a party! Giddy with glee I lend my arm, and tell him to guide me to this liquid treasure. As we descend to the catacombs beneath his home, I think about how strange a place this is to store his spirits… but before the notion became coherent, another wave of capricious pleasure washes over me, and my query is long forgotten. I demand more beverage, as my layer of intoxication is beginning to fade, but choke on the words in a fit of savage coughing. Montressor looks concerned and says something about going back but I wave him off, his protests making him feel week and elderly. Although he is obviously concerned about my health, he obliges and hands me some Medoc to ward of the cold. Oh, heavens, I still have plenty of life left in me! I shant be leaving this joyous land soon! Montressor comments that I won’t die of a mere cold, oh what a companion he is! Always concerned for my well-being, a good man indeed. Piles of bones are arranged along the damp, niter coated walls, and it smells of human rot, but I don’t complain, I shall do anything for a cask of Amontillado. I spot a small cove in the wall, but before I am able to pose a question about its existence, Montressor tells me that inside is the blessed drink! The words galvanize me, and I rush inside. It is empty. I stand dumb-founded, trying to process the desolate space and all it entails: there is no Amontillado. I turn to accost this prankster, to rant at his cruel jest! But before I can he has me by the arms, my legs, and soon I am wreathed in chains, the metal links clattering and jingling as they slap together. I am aware of my shouting, his guttural roar over-powering my drunken babble, and the scraping of mortar upon cement blocks but I no longer struggle. The thud as the last stone is pushed into place fills me with sorrow, and utter helplessness, and at that point, I realize completely that I am going to die down here. Alone, unmissed, and betrayed by my only friend.
Outstanding answers.
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