He had resented this cowardly insult for himself and his people. He had
resisted with the hope that he might be killed before it was
accomplished. He saw now with clear vision that the purpose of his
jailer was to torture him to death. His proud spirit rose in fierce
rebellion. He would cheat them of their prey. They might take his life
but it should be done under the forms of law in open day. He would live.
His will would defy death. He would learn to sleep with the tramp of
three sets of sentinels in his ears. He would eat their coarse food at
whatever cost to his feelings. He would learn to bury his face in his
bedding to avoid the rays of the lamp with which they were trying to
blind him.
He had need of all his fierce resolution.
He had resolved to ask no favors, but his suffering had been so acute,
his determination melted at the doctor's kind expressions.
The physician found him stretched on his pallet, horribly emaciated and
breathing with difficulty, his whole body a mere fascine of raw and
tremulous nerves, his eyes restless and fevered, his head continually
shifting from side to side searching instinctively for a cool spot on
the hot coarse hair pillow.
"Tell me," Dr. Craven said kindly, "what I can do to add to your
comfort?"
The question was asked with such genuine sympathy it was impossible to
resist it.
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