"But I have touched him—drawn in his infected breath—I am a dead man."
The Chaplain heeded him not.
"Brother, canst thou speak?" he said to the sick man.
A moan was the only reply.
"Brother, dost thou know that thou art dying?"
A moan again.
"And that the best of us have not lived as we should?"
Another sigh, so dolorous.
"And dost thou believe that God's dear Son died for thee?"
A faint gesture of assent.