[He draws closer to the fire, spreading his fingers to the
flame. And while he is speaking, through the doorway MRS.
MEGAN creeps in to listen.]
FERRAND. [Speaking on into the fire.] And I saw, Monsieur, so
plain, that I should be vagabond all my days, and my days short, I
dying in the end the death of a dog. I saw it all in my fever--
clear as that flame--there was nothing for us others, but the herb
of death. [WELLWYN takes his arm and presses it.] And so,
Monsieur, I wished to die. I told no one of my fever. I lay out on
the ground--it was verree cold. But they would not let me die on
the roads of their parishes--they took me to an Institution,
Monsieur, I looked in their eyes while I lay there, and I saw more
clear than the blue heaven that they thought it best that I should
die, although they would not let me. Then Monsieur, naturally my
spirit rose, and I said: "So much the worse for you. I will live a
little more." One is made like that! Life is sweet, Monsieur.
WELLWYN. Yes, Ferrand; Life is sweet.
FERRAND. That little girl you had here, Monsieur [WELLWYN nods.
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