He chafed and fretted sadly.

Fortitude was not his forte.
It was two days after his accident.

He was lying on his back, environed by slops and cursing his evil fate, and fretting his soul out of its fleshly prison, when suddenly he heard a cheerful trombone saying three words to Marthe, then came a clink-clank, and Marthe ushered into the sickroom the Commandant Raynal.

The sick man raised himself in bed, with great surprise and joy.
"O commandant! this is kind to come and see your poor officer in purgatory." "Ah," cried Raynal, "you see I know what it is.

I have been chained down by the arm, and the leg, and all: it is deadly tiresome." "Tiresome! it is--it is--oh, dear commandant, Heaven bless you for coming!" "Ta! ta! ta! I am come on my own business." "All the better.