Presently he said:
"Stand up, and I'll try to dress you."
In the dark his hand found my hand and he guided me so that I extricated myself from the heap of leaves without hitting my head on the jutting roof of rock and without slipping on the wet earth or stumbling from weakness.
In the dark he slipped over my head a coarse, patched tunic. (I could feel against my skin the rude stitching of the patches.) Then he wrapped about me a coarse cloak, also much patched.
"Now," he said, "stand where you are till I make some sort of a bed for you."
He fumbled about in the dark, grunting and making, I thought, too much rustling in the leaves. Presently he said:
"I've laid a doubled quilt on the leaves and packed them down. Give me your hand and I'll arrange you on it. Then I'll cover you with another quilt."
He did, deftly and solicitously.
I began to feel warm for the first time since I had sunk into the ooze of the drain-trap.
Agathemer fumbled about in the dark for a while and then came near again and felt me, making sure where my head was. He made me sit up.