What is the tone of the following excerpt from Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Masque of the Red Death"? There was a sharp cry—and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror 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 revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

In Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Masque of the Red Death", a disease known as the Red Death torment the anecdotal nation where this story is set, and it makes its exploited people bite the dust rapidly and horrifyingly. Despite the fact that this illness is spreading wildly, the sovereign, Prospero, feels cheerful and confident. He chooses to bolt the doors of his royal residence so as to battle off the plague, overlooking the ailment attacking the land. Following a while, he tosses an extravagant disguise ball. For this festival, he finishes the rooms of his home in single hues.

The easternmost room is brightened in blue, with blue recolored glass windows. The following room is purple with the equivalent recolored glass window design. The rooms proceed with westbound, as per this plan, in the accompanying shading game plan: green, orange, white, and violet. The seventh room is dark, with red windows. Likewise in this room stands a coal black clock. At the point when the clock rings every hour, its sound is so noisy and diverting that everybody quits talking and the symphony quits playing. At the point when the clock isn't sounding, however, the rooms are so delightful and weird that they appear to be loaded up with dreams, twirling among the revelers. Most visitors, in any case, maintain a strategic distance from the last, dark and-red room since it contains both the clock and an unfavorable feel.