'Ah! the children,' he repeated. 'Yes, bring them to me to-morrow. Bela is too like me. Poor Bela, it will be his curse.'
'It is my joy of joys,' she murmured, afraid to see how his mind seemed astray.
A shudder that was almost a spasm passed over him. He did not reply. He turned his face away from her, and seemed to sleep.
The day following he was somewhat calmer, somewhat stronger, though his fever was high.
The species of paralysis that had seemed to; fall on all his faculties had in a great measure left him. 'You wish, me to recover,' he said to her. 'I will do so, though perhaps it were, better not?'
'He says strange things,' she said to Greswold. 'I cannot think why he has such thoughts.'
'It is not he, himself, that has them, it is his fever,' answered the doctor. 'Why, in fever, do people often hate what they most adore when they are in health?'
She was reassured, but not contented.
The children were brought to see him. Bela had with him an ivory air-gun, with which he was accustomed to blow down his metal soldiers; he looked at his father with awed, dilated eyes, and said that he would go out with the gun and kill the brothers of the bear that had done the harm.
'The bear was quite right,' said Sabran. 'It was I who was wrong to take a life not my own.'