"Consult the two doctors," the sick man replied, "and act as they direct."
Fletcher obeyed, and the two doctors said that there was not any necessity for a third opinion. Fletcher brought back this answer to his master, who shook his head and said—
"I am much afraid they do not know anything at all about my illness."
"In that case, my lord," Fletcher insisted, "do call in another doctor."
"They tell me," Byron continued, without replying directly to Fletcher, "that it is a chill such as I have had before."
"But I am sure, my lord, you have never had such a serious one before," replied the valet.
"I agree with you," was Byron's reply; and he fell into a reverie from which no amount of persuasion could arouse him.
On the 15th, Fletcher, whose faithful devotion divined the real condition of his master, again asked permission to be allowed to fetch Dr. Thomas; but the doctors of Missolonghi still persisted there was no cause for alarm. Until now, they had treated their patient with purgatives, which, as Byron had only taken a cup or two of broth during eight days, were much too strong remedies and could not have any desirable effect. They but increased the weakness, which was already extreme because of want of sleep.
On the evening of the 15th, however, the doctors began to be uneasy, and talked of bleeding their patient; but he strenuously opposed this, asking Dr. Millingen if he thought the need for bleeding was urgent. The doctor replied that he believed he could put it off, without danger, until next day. So, on the evening of the 16th, they bled Byron in the right arm, taking sixteen ounces of greatly inflamed blood out of him. Dr. Bruno shook his head as he examined the blood.
"I always told him he ought to be bled," he murmured, "but he would never let it be done."