Late that evening the Lady Madeline Again succumbed to the power Of her dark afflictions. Her brother and her friend sat by her And Montresor, although familiar with many Of the gross and wonderful Phenomena of morbid flesh Marvelled at the depth and completeness of her coma. Life so exactly mirroring death That only the merest of involuntary pulses Betrayed the presence of a Spirit hiding within. In the cold hours before dawn they broke their vigil And Montresor retired to a restless sleep Only to be woken as a grey light spread from the east Across the leaden tarn. [Usher] Montresor, She is dead. She is dead, I sat by her, I watched her; I am alone. [Usher], That she should die so, [Montresor], that she should die so young, [Herbalist] fate is cruel, fate is hard. Why must innocence be punished? Need a flower fall so fast? Why must innocence be punished? Was her soul too good to last? Now the punishment is finished And the fever... the fever called 'Living'... That fever's conquered at last. [Usher] Will you do something for me? [Montresor] With all my heart [Usher] I wish my sister to be entombed In one of the vaults beneath the House. The family burial ground is remote, To lead her cortege there would Require a strength of will I do not command. Will you help me bear her? [Montresor] Of course, of course I will... [Usher] Come then, before I fully realise my loss.