human
She must know that I am here, since her brother is master of the fact-- here, bleeding and bound. Yet where is her sympathy? She sleeps! She journeys within a few paces of me, where I am tied painfully; yet not a word of consolation. No! She is riding upon her soft cushion, or carried upon a _litera_, escorted, perhaps, by this accomplished villain, who plays the gallant cavalier upon my own barb! They converse together, perhaps of the poor captives in their train, and with jest and ridicule--he at least; and _she_ can hear it, and then fling herself into her soft hammock and sleep--sleep sweetly--calmly?