“And I have many more marks in other parts of my body, which it would not be convenient to show you just now,” he said, quietly.
“You are an old soldier, then, Ramon?”
“Very. And now I will light myself a cigarette, and you will no more talk. As an old soldier, I know that it is bad for a caballero with a broken head to talk so much as you are doing.”
“As a surgeon, I know you are right, and I will talk no more for the present.”
And then, feeling rather drowsy, I composed myself to sleep. The last thing I remembered before closing my eyes was the long, swarthy, quixotic-looking face of my singular nurse, veiled in a blue cloud of cigarette-smoke, which, as it rolled from the nostrils of his big, aquiline nose, made those orifices look like the twin craters of an active volcano, upside down.
When, after a short snooze, I woke a second time, my first sensation was one of intense surprise, and being unable, without considerable inconvenience, to rub my eyes, I winked several times in succession to make sure that I was not dreaming; for while I slept the swart visage, black eyes, and grizzled mustache of my nurse had, to all appearance, been turned into a fair countenance, with blue eyes and a tawny head, while the tiny cigarette had become a big meerschaum pipe.
“God bless me! You are surely not Ramon?” I exclaimed.
“No; I am Geist. It is my turn of duty as your nurse. Can I get you anything?”
“Thank you very much; you are all very kind. I feel rather faint, and perhaps if I had something to eat it might do me good.”
“Certainly. There is some beef-tea ready. Here it is. Shall I feed you?”