you so pale? Light all the lamps! You
should not sit in the dark. There are no stars in this
den!

Vir. (Hurriedly lighting lamp) I'm sorry, love, but last night
you wanted the dark--don't you remember?

Poe. No, I don't remember. Memory is a hyena, always scratching
up our dead selves! You must not remember, Virginia!

Vir. Yes, dear.

Poe. Forgive me, love. O, I am driving myself mad! Selling
myself to the devil of prose that I may bring in that
fool's litter--money, money, money--and for what? That we
may feed the flesh that devours our souls, and hang such
rubbish as this on our backs! (Sweeps garments from chair)
O, Virginia, if you were brave enough we would forget
these rags of the body and go like spirits to meet our
brothers of the night! They are all out there! Will you go
with me, my bride?

Vir. O, Edgar!

Poe. Ha! You would rather ask them in to have something dry and
something hot! But I must have the air! (Throws door open.
Lightning flashes on falling rain. Virginia shrinks from
the wind) Hear those winds! Gathering lost souls to the
bosom of Night! Feel those drops! Every one of them the
tear of a fallen god! O, is it nothing but rain? Ha! ha!
ha! (Virginia coughs. Poe closes the door hastily. She
coughs again)

Poe. Don't, Virginia!

Vir. Yes, dear.

Poe. My angel! (Embraces her. She coughs) O, it is these wet
clothes! (Throws off coat, picks up dressing gown from the
door and puts it on hurriedly)

Vir. (Eagerly) Your slippers too, dear!

Poe. Yes, yes, my slippers! (Puts them on. Sits in big chair,
taking her on his knee, and embracing her tenderly) What
made you cough, Virginia?

Vir. O, 'twas nothing, dear. 'Tis all right now. Everything is
all right.

Poe. Is it, little wisdom? O, ye gods!

Vir. (Concealing anxiety) Darling?

Poe. What, my beautiful earth-bird?

Vir. You will take your supper now?

Poe. (Impatiently) No, no! Is there any wine in the house?

Vir. Yes, love, but--

Poe. I must have it! Quick! I shall faint.

Vir. (Rising) No, Edgar. It is food you need.

Poe. (Rising) Where is it?

Vir. O, my dearest!

Poe