The Oval Portrait
story by Edgar Allan Poe
script by D.W.Strong & D.G.Strong
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FADE IN:
{1865}
EXT. SIDEWALK - NIGHT
It is a damp, foggy evening and thunder rumbles in the distance. A horse drawn carriage clatters along a wet cobblestone street on the outskirts of Baltimore. A GENTLEMAN, wearing a long officer's overcoat and rain soaked hat, shuffles along on a crutch. He is being assisted by a short and stout little man, carrying bags and a lantern. The family VALET has been sent to accompany the gentleman, for it's his wounds of war that have brought him on this journey. It is early night and the valet brings the gentleman to a gate at the front of run down house. He sets down the heavy bags, and takes his dim, flame lantern and pushes through some fallen branches on the walkway that leads to the steps of the stone porch. The gentleman leans on the fence waiting in the darkness. A faint flash from the approaching lightning illuminates his worn features.
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VOICE OVER
The chateau into which my valet had ventured...
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CUT TO:
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EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - PORCH - NIGHT
The valet walks up and peers in the glass of the door. The valet pauses then trys the door. Locked.
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VOICE OVER
...to make forcible entrance, rather than permit me, in my desperately wounded condition, to pass a night in the open air,...
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With a brief glance around and a firm shoulder, he hits the door, hits it again, and with one last lunge it jars open.
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CUT TO:
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EXT. SIDEWALK - NIGHT
The gentleman pulls the crutch back to his side as the valet returns, grabs the bags, and escorts him through the gate and towards the house.
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VOICE OVER
...was one of those piles of commingled gloom and grandeur which have so long frowned among the Apennines, not less in fact than in the fancy of Mrs.Radcliffe.
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CUT TO:
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INT. ABANDON HOUSE - NIGHT
Reaching the lantern into the room, the valet helps the gentleman into the house.
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VOICE OVER
To all appearance it had been temporarily and very lately abandoned.
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They continue deeper into the dark, deserted dwelling.
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CUT TO:
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INT. ABANDON APARTMENT - NIGHT
The room is deeply dark. The rain falls hard now, and there are thin rays of blue light that streak in through the shutters with each strike of lightning. It helps to distinguish a table with a dusty oil lamp on top and a vase of flowers, long dead and dry.
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VOICE OVER
We established ourselves in one of the smallest and least sumptuously furnished apartments. It lay in a remote turret of the building. Its decorations were rich, yet tattered and antique.
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There is a long, ornate cloth hanging near the mantle.
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VOICE OVER
Its walls were hung with tapestry...
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Tarnished silver mementoes of unknown accomplishment sit atop the dusty mantle.
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VOICE OVER
...and bedecked with manifold and multiform armorial throphies,...
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There are many paintings, hanging, of all sizes and shapes and degree of austere frames.
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VOICE OVER
...together with an unusually great number of very spirited modern paintings in frames of rich golden arabesque. In these paintings, which depended from the walls not only in their main surfaces, but in very many nooks which the bizarre architecture of the chateau rendered necessary-
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The gentleman looks with intrigue at the numerous paintings as the valet helps him shed his jackets.
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VOICE OVER
...in these paintings my incipient delirium, perhaps, had caused me to take deep interest;...
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The valet opens the window sash, leans into the pouring rain and pulls closed the large slat shutters.
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VOICE OVER
...so that I bade Pedro to close the heavy shutters of the room-since it was already night,...
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The valet strikes a match and illuminates the wick of a candle on a candelabra, then another and another.
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VOICE OVER
-to light the tongues of a tall candelabrum which stood by the head of my bed,
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The valet wings open the dark fringed cloth.
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VOICE OVER
...and to throw open far and wide the fringed curtains of black velvet which enveloped the bed itself.
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The valet pulls the old dusty coverings from the bed, takes the man's crutch and helps him sit on the edge.
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VOICE OVER
I wished all this done that I might resign myself, if not to sleep, at least alternately to the contemplation of these pictures,...
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The man lifts a hand written manuscript which lay on the pillow, and rests back in the bed. His curiosity insists that he open it.
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VOICE OVER
...and the perusal of a small volume which had been found upon the pillow, and which purported to criticize and describe them.
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The storm has passed. The man, with the volume still in his grasp, flips a page, then looks up at the paintings.
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VOICE OVER
Long, long I read-and devoutly, devoutly I gazed. Rapidly and gloriously the hours flew by and the deep midnight came.
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The candles, on the candelabra, have dripped to half their size.
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VOICE OVER
The position of the candelabrum displeased me,...
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He reaches for it, wincing with pain.
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VOICE OVER
...and outreaching my hand with difficulty,...
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On a chair, in the turret window, the valet sits in an abysmal sleep.
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VOICE OVER
...rather than disturb my slumbering valet,...
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He grabs the heavy brass stand and pulls the candelabra closer to the bed.
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VOICE OVER
...I placed it so as to throw its rays more fully upon the book.
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He rests back against the pillow.
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VOICE OVER
But the action produced an effect altogether unanticipated.
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Something catches his eye. The candle-light flickers, revealing a woman's face in the corner of the room.
He strains to see.
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VOICE OVER
The rays of the numerous candles (for there were many) now fell within a niche of the room...
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On a wall surface, in the same corner of the room, hangs only a portrait in an ornate, oval frame.
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VOICE OVER
...which had hitherto been thrown into deep shade by one of the bed posts. I thus saw in vivid light a picture all unnoticed before.
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The portrait is of a young woman.
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VOICE OVER
It was the portrait of a young girl just ripening into womanhood.
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He blinks his eyes, then shuts them and rests his head back, against the headboard.
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VOICE OVER
I glanced at the painting hurriedly, and then closed my eyes. Why I did this was not at first apparent even to my own perception. But while my lids remained thus shut, I ran over in mind my reason for so shutting them. It was an impulsive movement to gain time for thought-to make sure that my vision had not deceived me-to calm and subdue my fancy for a more sober and more certain gaze.
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He slowly pulls his head forward and opens his eyes and looks again towards the portrait.
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VOICE OVER
In a very few moments I again looked fixedly at the painting.
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The face of the young woman in the oval portrait is depicted with care and detail.
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VOICE OVER
That I saw aright I could not and would not doubt; for the first flashing of the candles upon that canvas had seemed to dissipate the dreamy stupor which was stealing over my senses,...
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He is entranced with the portrait.
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VOICE OVER
...and to startle me at once into waking life.
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The oval portrait is remarkably realistic in its rendition.
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VOICE OVER
The portrait, I have already said, was that of a young girl. It was a mere head and shoulders, done in what is technically termed a vignette manner; much in the style of the favorite heads of Sully. The arms, the bosom, and even the ends of the radiant hair melted imperceptibly into the vague yet deep shadow which formed the background of the whole.
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He admires it.
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VOICE OVER
The frame was oval, richly gilded and filigreed in Moresque. As a thing of art nothing could be more admirable than the painting itself. But it could have been neither the execution of the work, nor the immortal beauty of the countenance, which had so suddenly and so vehemently moved me.
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The eyes in the portrait flicker in the candlelight.
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VOICE OVER
Least of all, could it have been that my fancy, shaken from its half slumber, had mistaken the head for that of a living person. I saw at once that the peculiarities of the design, of the vignetting, and of the frame, must have instantly dispelled such idea-
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He continues to regard the painting.
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VOICE OVER
...must have prevented even its momentary entertainment. Thinking earnestly upon these points, I remained, for an hour perhaps, half sitting, half reclining, with my vision riveted upon the portrait.
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The portrait seems to brighten.
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VOICE OVER
At length, satisfied with the true secret of its effect,...
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He rests back, confoundedly.
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VOICE OVER
...I fell back within the bed. I had found the spell of the picture in an absolute life-likeness of expression, which, at first startling, finally confounded, subdued, and appalled me.
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He begins to move the candelabra, looking once more at the portrait.
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VOICE OVER
With deep and reverent awe I replaced the candelabrum in its former position.
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The light shifts, returning the oval portrait to the deep shadows.
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VOICE OVER
The cause of my deep agitation being thus shut from view,...
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He pulls back and urgently seeks the book. Seeing it, he stretches across the bed and retrieves it. He thumbs through the pages.
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VOICE OVER
...I sought eagerly the volume which discussed the paintings and their histories. Turning to the number which designated the oval portrait,...
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In the shadows, the portrait appears to glow with life.
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VOICE OVER
...I there read the vague and quaint words which follow:
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FADE TO WHITE:
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VOICE OVER
"She was a maiden of rarest beauty,...
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FADE IN FROM WHITE:
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{1847}
EXT. GARDEN - DAY
A wedding is ending, and the bride is the woman seen in the oval portrait. A chaplain and a few others stand in the garden congratulating the couple.
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VOICE OVER
...and not more lovely than full of glee. And evil was the hour when she saw, and loved, and wedded the painter.
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Someone congratulates the groom.
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VOICE OVER
He, passionate, studious, austere, and having already a bride in his Art:
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The groom remains stern and cold.
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CUT TO:
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EXT. GARDEN - DAY
The young woman picks from the richly colored wildflowers. She glows of happiness.
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VOICE OVER
...she a maiden of rarest beauty, and not more lovely than full of glee; all light and smiles, and frolicsome as the young fawn;...
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She is on her knees, digging the dark earth with a small spade. She inserts a flowering plant.
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VOICE OVER
...loving and cherishing all things;...
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She glances up towards the house.
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VOICE OVER
...hating only the Art which was her rival;...
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The painter can be seen inside the windows.
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VOICE OVER
...dreading only the pallet and the brushes and the other untoward instruments which deprived her of the countenance of her lover.
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He is hard at work.
With a forsaken smile, she bows her head and continues planting.
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VOICE OVER
It was thus a terrible thing for this lady to hear the painter speak...
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CUT TO:
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INT. HOUSE - DAY
The painter sets his bride upon a tall, rest-back stool. He positions her by pulling or pushing her body.
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VOICE OVER
...of his desire to portray even his young bride.
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With his every touch, small, breathless delight surges through her. His palm rests on her cheek and she presses against it and closes her eyes.
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VOICE OVER
But she was humble and obedient,...
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She sits there, the image of beauty. Her skin and hair are so soft and full of life. Her eyes sparkle in the dim light.
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VOICE OVER
...and sat meekly for many weeks in the dark high turret-chamber where the light dripped upon the pale canvas only from overhead.
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The painter mixes several colors on his palet. He lifts his brush towards the oval canvas, then pauses and looks up at his bride.
She sits up proud, yet her smile is one of reverence.
He looks back to the canvas and begins to paint.
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VOICE OVER
But he, the painter, took glory in his work,...
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The heavy drapes are closed, so to permit little daylight from entering. Yet, small streaks of sun are able to pierce through the sheers above; illuminating the young woman like a heavenly spotlight.
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VOICE OVER
...which went on from hour to hour, and from day to day.
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The painter works.
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VOICE OVER
And he was a passionate, and wild, and moody man, who became lost in reveries;...
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She sits in her pose.
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VOICE OVER
...so that he would not see that the light which fell so ghastly in that lone turret withered the health and the spirits of his bride, who pined visibly to all but him. Yet she smiled on and still on, uncomplainingly, because she saw that the painter...
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The painter is passionate at work.
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VOICE OVER
...(who had high renown) took a fervid and burning pleasure in his task, and wrought day and night to depict her who so loved him,...
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She sits, so patiently.
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VOICE OVER
...yet who grew daily more dispirited and weak.
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The portrait is nearing completion.
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VOICE OVER
And in sooth some who beheld the portrait spoke of its resemblance in low words, as of a mighty marvel,...
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The painter continues to paint.
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VOICE OVER
and a proof not less of the power of the painter than of his deep love. . .
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The painting is amazing in its resemblance.
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VOICE OVER
...for her whom he depicted so surpassingly well.
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The young woman has sunken slightly in her position as he works feverishly.
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VOICE OVER
But at length, as the labor drew nearer to its conclusion, there were admitted none into the turret;...
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The painter is enthralled with his work.
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VOICE OVER
...for the painter had grown wild with the ador of his work, and turned his eyes from the canvas rarely, even to regard the countenance of his wife.
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The portrait looks as if it could come to life.
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VOICE OVER
And he would not see that the tints which he spread upon the canvas...
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The light that falls across the young woman is dim and grey, rendering her in silhouette.
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VOICE OVER
...were drawn from the cheeks of her who sat beside him. And when many weeks had passed, and but little remained to do,...
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The painter raises his brush to the canvas, then pauses.
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VOICE OVER
...save one brush upon the mouth and one tint upon the eye,...
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Her figure is dark, she is weak, but she sits up, hoping for his favor.
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VOICE OVER
...the spirit of the lady again flickered up as
the flame within the socket of the lamp.
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The painter brushes two final strokes upon the portrait.
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VOICE OVER
And then the brush was given, and then the tint was placed;...
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The painter steps back, not taking his eyes from his portrait.
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VOICE OVER
...and, for one moment, the painter stood entranced before the work which he had wrought; but in the next, while he yet gazed, he grew tremulous and very pallid, and aghast, and crying out with a loud voice,...
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The painter spins and throws his arms in the air and exclaims.
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PAINTER
This is indeed life itself!
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The painter turns to his bride. His face strikes with terror.
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VOICE OVER
...turned suddenly to regard his beloved:
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Her hand falls to the stool side, shrunken and lifeless.
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VOICE OVER
- She was dead!"
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FADE TO BLACK:
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THE END
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