They had to be very original.
The prince’s followers were not disappointed.
The night of the party they poured into the prince’s rooms. Eagerly they explored them.
All the doors between the rooms were open, but each room was a separate surprise. The prince had not laid out his rooms in a straight line. Each room was at a sharp angle to the one before it. A guest could see only one room at a time. With no hint of what came next.
The first room was all blue. The vivid blue of an autumn sky. The furniture was blue. The walls and ceiling were blue. A blue carpet covered the floor. And tall blue windows faced each other on two sides.
The only light in the room came from outside the windows. There, fires blazed in metal stands. The blue windows turned the firelight blue. That blue light bathed the blue of the room.
The second room was all purple. The purple of kings, bathed in purple light.
The next one, the green of great lawns.
Next, the orange of flames.
After that, the blinding white of snow.
Then came the violet of a dazzling sunset.
But nothing prepared a guest for theseventh room. No one could escape its shock.
The room was black. The deepest black. The black of a bottomless hole.
Except for the windows.
They were blood-red. Blood-red light came through them and cast hideous shadows.
Guests shrank from that light. Quickly they left. Few stayed long enough to see the clock in the room. A towering black clock. But all heard it. It chimed ominously every hour.
That sound went through every room. It cut through the music. Through the talk. Through the laughter. It was like a sudden chill.
But when the sound died, the party fever rose again. The party went on, evenwilder than before. It was as if everyone had forgotten the clock would chime again. The frightening feeling would return.
The prince walked among his guests. He was pleased. He had told them to enjoy themselves, and they were obeying his command.
He smiled to see them dancing. Laughing. Drinking. Their voices grew louder and louder. Their feet more and more clumsy.
Above all, he was amused by their costumes. He had urged his guests to set no limits on their imagination. They had obeyed. He saw gods and devils, clowns and animals. He saw kings and beggars, policemen and thieves. The divine and the horrible. He saw everything men and women could dream of being.
Then the party paused again. The black clock was chiming. Twelve times. Midnight had come.
The last chime died away. Music and laughter rose. The prince looked across the blue room. There he saw the strangest costume of all, and his smile faded.
The person wearing the costume stood alone. The costume filled other guests with disgust and horror.
The figure was tall and thin. Its costume was a shroud. A corpse’s shroud that hung from head to feet. Its mask was just as gruesome. A chalk-white mask that was a perfect copy of a corpse’s face. But even this was not the worst of it. The mask was spotted with bright dots of red.
This guest had come as a victim of the Red Death.
The prince’s face grew pale with shock. And with a swift, sudden touch of fear.
Then it grew red with rage.
He would not let this hideous joke spoil his perfect party.
“Who dares insult us?” he roared to his followers. “Seize him. Unmask him. So we can know who he is before we hang him at sunrise.”
Prince Prospero’s commanding voice rang through all the rooms. His followers moved to seize the strange figure.
But the figure did not retreat. Instead it advanced with a slow, solemn step. Straight toward the prince.
The prince’s followers parted before it. They gave the figure a clear path. A stab of fear went through them. The same icy fear that had touched the prince himself.
Frozen, they watched the figure pass by the prince. Within a yard of him.
Prince Prospero was frozen, too. He watched the figure leave the blue room.
Then again a wave of hot anger flooded through the prince. Anger at this
The prince’s followers were not disappointed.
The night of the party they poured into the prince’s rooms. Eagerly they explored them.
All the doors between the rooms were open, but each room was a separate surprise. The prince had not laid out his rooms in a straight line. Each room was at a sharp angle to the one before it. A guest could see only one room at a time. With no hint of what came next.
The first room was all blue. The vivid blue of an autumn sky. The furniture was blue. The walls and ceiling were blue. A blue carpet covered the floor. And tall blue windows faced each other on two sides.
The only light in the room came from outside the windows. There, fires blazed in metal stands. The blue windows turned the firelight blue. That blue light bathed the blue of the room.
The second room was all purple. The purple of kings, bathed in purple light.
The next one, the green of great lawns.
Next, the orange of flames.
After that, the blinding white of snow.
Then came the violet of a dazzling sunset.
But nothing prepared a guest for theseventh room. No one could escape its shock.
The room was black. The deepest black. The black of a bottomless hole.
Except for the windows.
They were blood-red. Blood-red light came through them and cast hideous shadows.
Guests shrank from that light. Quickly they left. Few stayed long enough to see the clock in the room. A towering black clock. But all heard it. It chimed ominously every hour.
That sound went through every room. It cut through the music. Through the talk. Through the laughter. It was like a sudden chill.
But when the sound died, the party fever rose again. The party went on, evenwilder than before. It was as if everyone had forgotten the clock would chime again. The frightening feeling would return.
The prince walked among his guests. He was pleased. He had told them to enjoy themselves, and they were obeying his command.
He smiled to see them dancing. Laughing. Drinking. Their voices grew louder and louder. Their feet more and more clumsy.
Above all, he was amused by their costumes. He had urged his guests to set no limits on their imagination. They had obeyed. He saw gods and devils, clowns and animals. He saw kings and beggars, policemen and thieves. The divine and the horrible. He saw everything men and women could dream of being.
Then the party paused again. The black clock was chiming. Twelve times. Midnight had come.
The last chime died away. Music and laughter rose. The prince looked across the blue room. There he saw the strangest costume of all, and his smile faded.
The person wearing the costume stood alone. The costume filled other guests with disgust and horror.
The figure was tall and thin. Its costume was a shroud. A corpse’s shroud that hung from head to feet. Its mask was just as gruesome. A chalk-white mask that was a perfect copy of a corpse’s face. But even this was not the worst of it. The mask was spotted with bright dots of red.
This guest had come as a victim of the Red Death.
The prince’s face grew pale with shock. And with a swift, sudden touch of fear.
Then it grew red with rage.
He would not let this hideous joke spoil his perfect party.
“Who dares insult us?” he roared to his followers. “Seize him. Unmask him. So we can know who he is before we hang him at sunrise.”
Prince Prospero’s commanding voice rang through all the rooms. His followers moved to seize the strange figure.
But the figure did not retreat. Instead it advanced with a slow, solemn step. Straight toward the prince.
The prince’s followers parted before it. They gave the figure a clear path. A stab of fear went through them. The same icy fear that had touched the prince himself.
Frozen, they watched the figure pass by the prince. Within a yard of him.
Prince Prospero was frozen, too. He watched the figure leave the blue room.
Then again a wave of hot anger flooded through the prince. Anger at this
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