He was not bitter, but expressed his quiet contempt for the systematic petty insults which his jailer was now heaping on him daily. His physician had demanded that he take exercise in the open air. Miles always walked with him and never permitted an occasion of this kind to pass without directing at his helpless prisoner personal insults so offensive that Davis always cut his walks short to be rid of his tormentor. On one occasion the general was so brutal in his conversation after he had locked his prisoner in his room that he suddenly sprang at the bars, grasped them with his trembling, skeleton hands and cried: "But for these you should answer to me--here and now!" A favorite pastime of his jailer was to admit crowds of vulgar sightseers and permit them to gaze at his prisoner. A woman inquired of Frederick, who was on his way to his room: "Where's Jeff?" The negro bowed gravely and drew his stalwart figure erect: "I am sorry, madame, not to be able to tell you. I do not know any such person." "Yes, you do--aren't you his servant?" "No, madame, you are mistaken. I have the honor to serve ex-President Davis." Only a great soul can command the love and respect of servants as did this quiet grave statesman of the old regime. Never during the long hours of these weeks and months of torture did he lose his dignity or his lofty bearing quail before his tormentor. He was too refined and dignified to be abusive, and too proud in General Miles' delicate phraseology to "beg." The loving wife began now her desperate fight to nurse him back into life again. The new Commandant of the fort, General Burton, who replaced Miles, proved himself a gentleman and a soldier of the old school. He immediately gave to the prisoner every courtesy possible and to his wife sympathy and help. The Bishop of Montreal sent him a case of green chartreuse from his own stores. This powerful digestive stimulant helped his feeble appetite to take the nourishment needed to sustain life and slowly build his strength. He could sleep only when read to, and many a day dawned on the worn figure of his wife still droning her voice into his sensitive ears, with one hand on his pulse praying God it might still beat. At times it stopped, and then she roused the sleeper, gave him the stimulant and made him eat something which she always kept ready. Dr. Cooper had warned that the walls of his heart were so weak even a sound sleep might prove his death if too long continued. CHAPTER XLVII VINDICATION