It was while my mind was wandering in that way, under the influence of the drug, that, condemned to death, or destined for madness, I fell into a heavy and artificial sleep, which lasted till the morning.
Some one touched me on the shoulder. Lerne, in a white overall was standing near the bed. The murder idea had sprung up again instantaneously and clearly in me.
“What o’clock is it? Am I to die, or is your business over?”
“Patience, nephew. Nothing has begun yet.”
“What are you going to do with me? Are you going to inoculate me with plague, tuberculosis, cholera? Tell me, uncle.”
“No!”
“What then?”
“Come, come, no nonsense,” he said.
He withdrew, and revealed an operating table, which, lying on narrow supports like an open bier, had the appearance of a rack.