human
You think of getting well yourself, brother Simone. I have not got the fever yet,
gpt
May the saints grant that your reverence do not fall ill before I am able to get up, or I don't know what we should do.
human
It is years, brother Simone, that make my hand shake, more than ague this time, years, and many a former touch of the fever. I am not ill this time yet. And now I must go and ring the 'Angelus.'
gpt
Angelus was duly rung. But Brother Simone, as he lay upon his fevered bed, was very well able to tell that the rope was pulled by a very uncertain and unsteady hand.
human
Poor old fellow! he's going fast! I wonder whether there's any chance of their moving me when he's gone?