His eyebrows were
constantly bending, and his grey eyes burned with a fever which was
never to be subdued. Across the foot of the bed lay a golden bar of
morning sunlight.
"How long must I lie in this cursed bed?" he asked.
Brother Jacques left the window and came to the bedside. "Perhaps a
month, Monsieur; it all depends upon your patience."
"Patience? I have little against my account. When does the Henri IV
sail?"
"A week from to-day."
"In bed or on foot, I shall sail with it. I am weary of trees, and
rocks, and water. I desire to see the cobbles of Rochelle and Perigny
before I die. Have you no canary in this abominable land?"
"The physician denies you wine, Monsieur."
"And what does that fool know about my needs?" demanded the invalid,
stirring his feet as if striving to cast aside the sunlight. "Draw the
shutter; the sun bites into my eyes. I abhor sunshine in bed. I am
seventy, and yet I have risen with the sun for more than sixty-five
years. Have you any books?"
"Only of a religious and sacred character, and a volume of the letters
of the Order." Brother Jacques offered these without confidence.
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