Presently--how long after his recovery, he could not have told--he felt the touch of a cool hand upon his forehead, and heard the voice of his uncle low and gentle, say, “Elias, my poor boy, are you suffering? Are you in pain?” He looked up into his uncle's face. “Oh, thank God!” he cried. “Thank God, that you have come! Stay with me. Turn up the gas. I want light--plenty of light. Turn it up full head. There--that's right. Now, sit down--here--near me. Don't leave me alone. For God's sake, don't leave me alone. Oh, it is good, so good, to have somebody with me. It was horrible to be all alone.” The rabbi drew a chair up to Elias's bedside, and seated himself there. “If you could go to sleep, Elias,” he said, “it would be the best thing for you.” “If I could go to sleep!” Elias laughed a harsh, unmirthful laugh. “If I could go to sleep! That's good!” Then, loudly, passionately: “How shall I ever go to sleep again? Are you crazy, to talk to me of sleep! Don't you know what has happened? Oh, my God, my God! And he talks to me of sleep! _Sleep!_ Man alive, how--how shall I ever do any thing in all my life again, but--but--_Oh!_” His voice broke into an inarticulate groan. He had started up, leaning on his elbow. Now he fell back flat. “You are very much excited,” said the rabbi. “You must try to calm yourself. Is the pain very great?” “Oh, the pain--the pain is nothing. I have a headache, yes. But that is nothing. I wish it was ten times worse. I _like_ the pain. If it were worse, then I might--I might forget the fearful, awful--oh, I can't express it. Put yourself in my place. If it had happened to you, how do you think you would feel? Oh, it's very easy for you to sit there comfortably, and talk to me about going to sleep.”