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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
?
"
be
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
.
I
leant
over
him
.
He
was
not
only
ill
,
he
was
wounded
.
His
head
,
swathed
in
bandages
covered
with
blood
,
lay
on
a
pillow
.
I
undid
the
bandages
,
and
the
wounded
man
looked
at
me
with
his
large
eyes
and
gave
no
sign
of
pain
as
I
did
it
.
It
was
a
horrible
wound
.
The
skull
,
shattered
by
some
deadly
weapon
,
left
the
brain
exposed
,
which
was
much
injured
.
Clots
of
blood
had
formed
in
the
bruised
and
broken
mass
,
in
colour
like
the
dregs
of
wine
.
