I am going to live.

I am quite well.
Think of it.

Is it farcical, comical, tragical, or what?
This is how it has befallen.

The last thing I remember of the old conditions was Rogers packing my things, and a sudden, awful, excruciating agony.

I lost consciousness, remained for days in a bemused, stupefied state, which I felt convinced was death, and found particularly pleasant.