The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, but Prince Prospero was happy. He retired to deep seclusion with his friends of the court to his magnificent abbey. After months of seclusion they decide to have a masked ball.
Is he infected?!
The partygoers realize that there is a stranger among the masquerade who is covered in signs of the "red death."
Who is this stranger in my secluded abbey?
Prince Prospero tells his loyal subjects to seize the stranger because he thinks it is some kind of mockery, and Prospero and the stranger end up in a chase.
Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him-that we may know whom we have to hang!
After rushing hurriedly through the six chambers while none followed him, Prospero faced his pursuer. There was a sharp cry-and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, fell prostrate in death the prince Prospero.
The followers of the Prince attacked the stranger in the gruesome mask, and they gasped in unutterable at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. Finally, the Red Death held dominion over all until the last light died out.