The next day I woke with my head singularly clear. To my great surprise, I was in my own room. My companions, no doubt, had been reinstated in their cabin, without having perceived it any more than I. Of what had passed during the night they were as ignorant as I was, and to penetrate this mystery I only reckoned upon the chances of the future. I then thought of quitting my room. Was I free again or a prisoner? Quite free. I opened the door, went to the half-deck, went up the central stairs. The panels, shut the evening before, were open. I went on to the platform. Ned Land and Conseil waited there for me. I questioned them; they knew nothing. Lost in a heavy sleep in which they had been totally unconscious, they had been astonished at finding themselves in their cabin. As for the _Nautilus_, it seemed quiet and mysterious as ever. It floated on the surface of the waves at a moderate pace. Nothing seemed changed on board. The second lieutenant then came on to the platform, and gave the usual order below. As for Captain Nemo, he did not appear. Of the people on board, I only saw the impassive steward, who served me with his usual dumb regularity. About two o’clock, I was in the drawing-room, busied in arranging my notes, when the Captain opened the door and appeared. I bowed. He made a slight inclination in return, without speaking. I resumed my work, hoping that he would perhaps give me some explanation of the events of the preceding night. He made none. I looked at him. He seemed fatigued; his heavy eyes had not been refreshed by sleep; his face looked very sorrowful. He walked to and fro, sat down and got up again, took a chance book, put it down, consulted his instruments without taking his habitual notes, and seemed restless and uneasy. At last, he came up to me, and said: “Are you a doctor, M. Aronnax?” I so little expected such a question that I stared some time at him without answering. “Are you a doctor?” he repeated. “Several of your colleagues have studied medicine.” “Well,” said I, “I am a doctor and resident surgeon to the hospital. I practised several years before entering the museum.” “Very well, sir.” My answer had evidently satisfied the Captain. But, not knowing what he would say next, I waited for other questions, reserving my answers according to circumstances. “M. Aronnax, will you consent to prescribe for one of my men?” he asked. “Is he ill?” “Yes.” “I am ready to follow you.” “Come, then.” I own my heart beat, I do not know why. I saw certain connection between the illness of one of the crew and the events of the day before; and this mystery interested me at least as much as the sick man. Captain Nemo conducted me to the poop of the _Nautilus_, and took me into a cabin situated near the sailors’ quarters. There, on a bed, lay a man about forty years of age, with a resolute expression of countenance, a true type of an Anglo-Saxon.