"That's idolatrous bad Art," he said, drawing the book towards himself.
"From the anatomy of the angels, it has been made in Germany." He opened in
mechanically, and there leaped to his eyes a verse printed in red ink--
The next good joy that Mary had,
It was the joy of three,
To see her good Son Jesus Christ
Making the blind to see;
Making the blind to see, good Lord,
And happy we may be.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
To all eternity!
Dick read and re-read the verse till his turn came, and the doctor was bending
above him seated in an arm-chair. The blaze of the gas-microscope in his eyes
made him wince. The doctor's hand touched the scar of the sword-cut on Dick's
head, and Dick explained briefly how he had come by it. When the flame was
removed, Dick saw the doctor's face, and the fear came upon him again. The
doctor wrapped himself in a mist of words. Dick caught allusions to "scar,"
"frontal bone," "optic nerve," "extreme caution," and the "avoidance of mental
anxiety."
"Verdict?" he said faintly. "My business is painting, and I daren't waste time.
What do you make of it?"
Again the whirl of words, but this time they conveyed a meaning.
"Can you give me anything to drink?"
Many sentences were pronounced in that darkened room, and the prisoners often
needed cheering.
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