Physician. Now turn your eyes directly to the light, to the window.
The Man. What do you say, doctor?
Physician. The eyelids are beautifully formed, the white perfectly pure, the blue deep, the veins in good order, the muscles strong.
To George.
You may laugh at all this, George. You will be perfectly well; as well as I am.
To the Man (aside).
There is no hope. Look at the pupils yourself, count; there is not the least susceptibility to the light; there is a paralysis of the optic nerve.
George. Everything looks to me as if covered with black clouds.
The Man. Yes, they are open, blue, lifeless, dead!
George. When I shut my eyelids I can see more than when my eyes are open.