A full year elapsed before any substantial change was made in my life of captivity.
CHAPTER XXIV
A COLLOQUY
I had been in prison then for two years, seeing nothing outside but the sky and a wall pierced by some fifty iron-barred windows. For two short hours, one year before, as stated in the previous chapter, I had been granted the privilege to walk on the streets, to breathe the free atmosphere of the city. My general health was bad. I could neither read nor sleep. Mentally I was seriously depressed. I had abandoned all hope of regaining my liberty before the end of hostilities.
But one day the old jail physician, a very kind man, Dr. Becker, visited me in my cell. We had previously talked together on medical matters. He knew, of course, that I was habitually called to attend the sick during the twenty-three hours he was absent every day from the prison. He had placed at my disposal his little dispensary. Indeed, from the medical point of view, one can truthfully say that between the prison doctor and myself diplomatic relations were never severed.
The object of his visit to me now was to inquire about my health. He had noticed that my general appearance left much to be desired.
“Well, how are you?” he asked on entering my cell.
“Bad,” I replied.
“I am truly sorry,” the doctor remarked. “I have observed lately that you appeared to be far from well.”