“Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I can't. You must have the stuff.”
The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closed his eyes. Martini sat down again, and listened as the breathing became gradually deep and even.
The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hour after hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him several times during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but, except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan and colourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he had given too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastened sleeve fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm from wrist to elbow.
“That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were fresh,” said Riccardo's voice behind him.
“Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleep forever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved a muscle since.”
Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
“No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheer exhaustion—what you might expect after such a night. There may be another paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?”
“Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten.”
“It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant gets that broth hot. Gently—gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't fight, man; I'm not a bishop!”
The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared look. “Is it my turn?” he said hurriedly in Spanish. “Keep the people amused a minute; I—— Ah! I didn't see you, Riccardo.”