Mrs. Del. (Rising) May I stand on the carpet, or shall I take off my slippers before the burning bush of your love?
Poe. Forgive me! Don’t you see that I have lost her?
Mrs. Del. Well, you were out of your senses to come here and think Helen would understand it.
Poe. I was not! She did understand! The vision that led me to her feet was as clear as an archangel’s! It is now that I am mad, and see everything gross and darkened with earth and flesh! (Overcome, 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)