After a time the throbbing sensation decreased in violence; but while the sharpness of the pain of each throb was less, it lasted longer, producing a deadening sickening ache, which was equally intolerable.
Next I felt something touch my hand with a curiously restless movement. The thing was sometimes cold and damp, and at others warm and clinging, with a touch now and then of roughness. I tried to draw my hand away, but found it heavier than the heaviest metal, so that I could not stir even a finger. I shrank from the thing and shuddered; it filled me with a sense of uncanny terror; and it appeared to be many long hours to me before I found that it was Chris, nosing and licking me and rubbing his head against my hand.
I can recall to this day the rush of relief which this discovery produced. If Chris was by my side, all must be well. Just that one vague thought, without any other conscious connection, followed by a sensation of calm peaceful comfort.
I think I passed from semi-insensibility then into sleep, for when I became conscious again, I was much better. I was no longer all head; I could move my hand to touch Chris, who still kept his watch over me; and I heard his little whimper of pleasure at my caress, as he took my fingers in his great mouth to mumble them, as his manner was when very demonstrative of his affection.
But I was content to lie quite still and soon afterwards another and very different set of sensations were started.
Someone came to my side, a fairy touch smoothed the pillow under my head, a gentle, cool hand was laid on my burning forehead, deft, quick fingers light as gossamer removed the bandage on my head and bathed it with water of deliciously refreshing coldness.
I heard a pitying sigh from tremulous lips as the someone bent over me; I caught whispered words. “It was for me;” and just when I was striving to open my eyes, the lips were pressed swiftly and gently to my brow.
It did more to soothe me, that one swift, gentle touch, than all the waters of all the coldest rivers in the world could have done; and although I felt like a guilty hypocrite, I kept my eyes closed and my limbs still in eager hope that another dose of the same elixir might be administered.
But at the moment I felt the deft fingers start and tremble; the bathing recommenced a little more hurriedly; and Chris growled.
“Hush, Chris, good dog,” whispered Mademoiselle. “It’s only Karasch. Dear old dog,” and a hand left my head to pat him, and in patting him, the fingers touched mine and then lifted my hand with ever so gentle a movement higher on to the bed.