e, sinks on couch. She hastily brings
wine)
Mrs. Del.
Drink it. You must.
Poe. No! You offer me hell! And you know it. Put it down. If
you want to help me, go to her and bring me one word.
Mrs. Del.
Drink this for me, and I will.
Poe. (Taking glass) You will?... No! (Puts glass down)
Mrs. Del.
My dear boy, you are too weak to stand! It's that old
habit of not eating. I don't believe you have tasted food
for days.
Poe. True ... but.... (Faints. Mrs. Delormis gives him wine. He
rouses)
Mrs. Del.
Now will you kill me?
Poe. (Brightening) No. You were right. 'Twas what I needed. 'T
will keep life in me till she comes. Go to her now. Tell
her I will leave her--I will go away for a year--a
thousand years--if she will only say I may come back some
day. I will live in a desert and pray myself to the bone!
Bring me one word from her--a curse--anything!
Mrs. Del. (Pouring wine) A little more of this then, so I shall
be sure to find you alive when I return.
Poe. (Drinks eagerly) 'Tis life! Life! I've drunk of Cretan
wines against whose fragrant tide the Venus-rose poured
all her flood in vain, but never thrilled my lips till now
with drop so ravishing! And you brought it to me! Helen
left me to die ... cruel ... cruel ... cruel.... (Sits on
couch, taking his head in his hands. Looks up) Florimel!
Mrs. Del.
My Calidore!
Poe. You are a very beautiful devil.
Mrs. Del. (Pouring wine) Thanks. I'm glad you like my style.
(Sips wine) It _is_ good, isn't it?
Poe. 'Tis an enchantment to pilot grief to new and festal
worlds! Another cup! (Drinks) O, 'tis a drink to rouse the
drooping soul for warrier quest till on the conquered
shores of dream man strides a god!... (Pours another
glass) Again? No ... no more!... (Sinks down) O, my bird
of Heaven, come quickly, or I am lost!... Florimel!
Mrs. Del.
My knight of Normandy!
Poe. Since we are going to hell let us be merry about it.
Mrs. Del.
At last you are sensible.
Poe. Wine! wine!
Mrs. Del. (Holding glass) I mean to have my price for this.
Poe. Take my soul!
Mrs. Del.
Something better-
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