Then I lie me down in a corner.

My heavy eyelids close, and I sink into a prostration that eventually forces me into heavy slumber.
How long have I been asleep?
I cannot say.

Is it night?
Is it day?
I know not.

I remark, however, that I breathe more easily, and that the air is no longer poisoned carbonic acid.
Was the air renewed while I slept?
Has the door been opened?
Has anybody been in here?
Yes, here is the proof of it! In feeling about, my hand has come in contact with a mug filled with a liquid that exhales an inviting odor.

I raise it to my lips, which, are burning, for I am suffering such an agony of thirst that I would even drink brackish water.
It is ale--an ale of excellent quality--which refreshes and comforts me, and I drain the pint to the last drop.
But if they have not condemned me to die of thirst, neither have they condemned me to die of hunger, I suppose?
No, for in one of the corners I find a basket, and this basket contains some bread and cold meat.
I fall to, eating greedily, and my strength little by little returns.
Decidedly, I am not so abandoned as I thought I was.