"Amen! I am very willing to live, if it please God. I have felt life sweet."
"How can it be otherwise than sweet with your endowments and nature? Do you truly expect that you will be seized with hydrophobia, and die raving mad?"
"I expect it, and have feared it. Just now, I fear nothing."
"Nor do I, on your account. I doubt whether the smallest particle of virus mingled with your blood: and if it did, let me assure you that—young, healthy, faultlessly sound as you are—no harm will ensue. For the rest, I shall inquire whether the dog was really mad. I hold she was not mad."
"Tell nobody that she bit me."
"Why should I, when I believe the bite innocuous as a cut of this penknife? Make yourself easy: I am easy, though I value your life as much as I do my own chance of happiness in eternity. Look up."
"Why, Mr. Moore?"
"I wish to see if you are cheered. Put your work down: raise your head."
"There"
"Look at me. Thank you! And is the cloud broken?"
"I fear nothing."
"Is your mind restored to its own natural sunny clime?"
"I am very content: but I want your promise."
