“I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything.”
“Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would rather be alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me.”
“Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should be wasting your time for nothing.”
“Nonsense, man!” Martini broke in roughly. “What's the use of trying to fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to sleep, if you can.”
He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat down with a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three times. He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence, then another restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into the room.
“Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?”
There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. The Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, and silently shook his head.
“Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if the pain got very bad.”
“No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on.”
Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For an interminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the opium.