Mr. Leverell made no reply to this last speech, but approached the bedside of the sufferer.
“I am sorry to see you in this position, No. 59,” observed the chaplain, “very sorry.”
“Ugh,” groaned the man, “I wish I’d escaped or else have been killed outright. Oh—oh,” here he writhed with pain.
“You must bear up against this new misfortune, and have the grace of patience,” said the chaplain.
“I aint got any patience left. It’s all gone long ago, and I don’t want any of your palaver.”
“You must not talk like that. Let me read a little to you.”
“No, I won’t be read to—I don’t like it. Leave me to myself.”
“But I must beg of you to listen to my discourse. It is useless your being obstinate or refractory.”
“Get away, and leave me alone,” cried the man in a voice which was something like the roar of a wild beast.
The chaplain began to read after a few further observations, and the man hallooed and shouted like a maniac.