five livres a month was more than I wanted, since I could not eat
more than I did: the great heat and the want of proper nourishment had
weakened me. It was in the dog-days; the strength of the sun's rays upon
the lead of the roof made my cell like a stove, so that the streams of
perspiration which rolled off my poor body as I sat quite naked on my
sofa-chair wetted the floor to right and left of me.

I had been in this hell-on-earth for fifteen days without any secretion
from the bowels. At the end of this almost incredible time nature
re-asserted herself, and I thought my last hour was come. The
haemorrhoidal veins were swollen to such an extent that the pressure on
them gave me almost unbearable agony. To this fatal time I owe the
inception of that sad infirmity of which I have never been able to
completely cure myself. The recurrence of the same pains, though not so
acute, remind me of the cause, and do not make my remembrance of it any
the more agreeable. This disease got me compliments in Russia when I was
there ten years later, and I found it in such esteem that I did not dare
to complain. The same kind of thing happened to me at Constantinople,
when I was complaining of a cold in the head in the presence of a Turk,
who was thinking, I could see, that a dog of a Christian was not worthy
of such a blessing.

The same day I sickened with a high fever and kept my bed. I said nothing
to Lawrence about it, but the day after, on finding my dinner untouched,
he asked me how I was.

"Very well."

"That can't be, sir, as you have eaten nothing. You are ill, and you will
experience the generosity of the Tribunal who will provide you, without
fee or charge, with a physician, surgeon, and all necessary medicines."

He went out, returning after three hours without guards, holding a candle
in his hand, and followed by a grave-looking personage; this was the
doctor. I was in the height of the fever, which had not left me for three
days. He came up to me and began to ask me questions, but I told him that
with my confessor and my doctor I would only speak apart. The doctor told
Lawrence to leave the room, but on the refusal of that Argus to do so, he
went away saying that I was dangerously ill, possibly unto death. For
this I hoped, for my life as it had become was no longer my chiefest
good. I was somewhat glad also to think that my pitiless persecutors
might, on hearing of my condition, be forced to reflect on the cruelty o