Fortunato’s eyes lit up from the wine, and I felt warmer. We continued walking through the caves.
“It is getting too wet,” I said. “We are below the river now. Come. We must go back before it is too late. Your cough will become worse.”
“It is nothing,” he said. “Let’s continue. But first, give me another drink of wine.”
I gave him another bottle. He drank all of it. Then he threw the bottle away and laughed. His eyes were burning. He almost fell. Again, I offered him my arm. He took it, and we continued walking.
Finally, we arrived at a large, deep cave in the rock. At the end of the big cave there was a smaller one. It was about one hundred and twenty centimeters deep, ninety centimeters wide, and two hundred centimeters high. It was very dark.
Fortunato tried to look in, but he could not see anything.
“Go in,” I said. “The Amontillado is there.”
