I have incessantly cooled his wound, and towards mid-day he opened his eyes and knew me again, and said you would be anxious about him.

After sundown he went to sleep, but he is not wholly free from fever, and as soon as Paulus came in I set out to quiet your anxiety and to entreat you to give me a cooling potion, that I may return to him with it at once." The deepest sorrow sounded in Sirona's accents as she told her story, and tears had started to her eyes as she related to the parents what had befallen their son.

Petrus and Dorothea listened as to a singer, who, dressed indeed in robes of mourning, nevertheless sings a lay of return and hope to a harp wreathed with flowers.
"Quick, quick, Marthana," cried Dorothea eagerly and with sparkling eyes, before Sirona had ended.

"Quick, the basket with the bandages.

I will mix the fever-draught myself." Petrus went up to the Gaulish woman.
"It is really no worse than you represent ?" he asked in a low voice.