I did not pretend to be watching him, but I kept strict observation all the same.

All at once that shifty look came into his eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to know so well.

He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of his bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-luster eyes.
I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to excite his attention.
At first he made no reply, but at length said testily, "Bother them all! I don't care a pin about them." "What ?" I said.

"You don't mean to tell me you don't care about spiders ?" (Spiders at present are his hobby and the notebook is filling up with columns of small figures.) To this he answered enigmatically, "The Bride maidens rejoice the eyes that wait the coming of the bride.

But when the bride draweth nigh, then the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled." He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his bed all the time I remained with him.
I am weary tonight and low in spirits.