The Raven Page #7

Tell him to get to

the "Baltimore Patriot". Do it!

I will die today.

A hole of mouldering earth awaits.

It is a just end to a man

consumed by death his entire life.

Emily, take this kiss upon thy brow.

Really good stuff, sir.

A poet to the end.

I suppose this bit

is for Miss Hamilton.

Where is she?

- Where is she?

- I tell you, Mr. Poe,

I used to live for your stories,

just live for them.

When you stopped writing...

I guess I went a little nuts.

But I kept on believing,

even when you closed me out.

I still believed in your vision,

in a future where people

would stand in lines

to see the kind of things that

only people like you and I could see.

I knew you had one more in you, sir.

No one will ever forget you.

Have you ever been to France?

There's a young writer over there -

Jules Verne.

- You heard of him?

- What?

Paris...

He really reminds me of you, sir.

Where is she? You owe me!

Where is she?!

"Anything was better than this agony.

"Anything was more tolerable

than this derision.

"I could bear those hypocritical

smiles no longer."

"The Tell-Tale Heart."

She's here... She's here.

Carriage for Mr. Reynolds!

On my way in just a moment!

Goodbye, Mr. Poe.

I've enjoyed our time together.

Reynolds...

Almost...

Emily!

Emily?

Answer me.

Emily! Please, answer me!

Oh, my God.

Em"?

Emily... Emily...

Emily.

Open your eyes.

Emily, open your eyes.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Is it really you?

- I love you.

- I love you.

I'm here.

I came for you.

Okay,

Stay awake.

I have you, always.

We're going home.

- You did mean it?

- Mean what?

When you said you would marry me.

In this life and the next.

Clear the way! Clear the way!

What's wrong with you? Make way!

- Where's Poe?

- He was here a moment ago.

Poe!

Hurry!

Where is Edgar? Where is Edgar?

Now, be careful.

Go, go, go!

Sir?

You are Edgar Poe, correct?

I am.

For a few more minutes, anyway.

Are you all right?

You look a little the worse for wear.

Is there someone I can call for you?

- Reynolds.

- You want me to find Reynolds?

Does he have a first name?

No.

Tell Fields...

his last name is Reynolds.

I'm sorry, sir,

you're not making much sense.

Tell Fields.

The Lord help my poor soul.

Mr. Fields?

- I'm Dr. John Morgan.

- Doctor.

- Do you have a cause of death?

- I'm sorry, I don't.

I have a few ideas but...

As you know, he was brought in

in a very deranged state.

I'm told he was ranting.

Yes.

He kept going on and on about telling

you that your last name is Reynolds.

Is that helpful, or just gibberish?

Maybe both.

Well, thank you for your help,

Doctor.

I'd be interested in hearing

your final analysis.

Take this kiss upon thy brow,

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow -

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream.

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

Mr. Reynolds, please follow me

to your carriage.

Merci pour votre aide.

Hello, Ivan.

I have burned my tomorrows

And I stand inside today

And burn my shadow away

And burn my shadow away

And burn my shadow away

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