The great loss of blood on the battlefield had weakened him.

When Feodor woke up from his sleep, he woke up to marvel at the darkness around him. Then he
remembered and became enraged.

Sister Laupeudensis, who passed from one bed to another, did not understand the words that Feodor
spoke out of his mouth, but in his innermost being he was afraid. He laid his hand on the sick shoulder.
— Remember that you are not alone. There are many weak sick people here.

— Bring the doctor here! And light! I want my sight back. Or are you such beasts that you don't even
give the enemy medical treatment?

He fell back onto the bed with a groan. The pain he felt was too intense for his still weak strength.

After a while, he felt the "sister" settle near him. He sensed it when something touched his bed and the
sound sounded very close. The doctor had been taking care of him since he was brought here. The shin
and shoulder were in the best possible condition. But the doctors' skill couldn't do anything to the eyes.

Is this how a man who was enraged to the point of insanity was comforted?

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. And he didn't want to get a renewed reminder from
them — He bit the word through the cracks of his teeth. Then he cried out inwardly: blind, blind,
condemned to eternal darkness! — And besides, without a leg, without an arm. He who was born to be
a commander, who had determined both his own destiny and that of others, he is now condemned not
only to lifelong darkness, but also to lifelong dependence on others and what they allow or do not allow
to be done.

He moans again so loudly that tears come to the eyes of a few sick people. Others shake their heads
reproachfully. From one of the beds, a bearded man angrily throws at him: there would be a concert if
everyone made that kind of noise!

Feodor's only hand clenches into a fist, and he grits his teeth in response. Rage and pain consume him
like fire. Finally, fatigue puts him into hibernation. It makes it easier for a while. But when Feodor
survives it, the same cruel game is renewed, which preys on him like a beast on its prey. He wakes up to
marvel at the darkness around him, — then remembers and — squirms as if in torture tongs.

Each such awakening is like a renewed deep, painful scalpel drawing.

If only he could get home! Surely the doctors there could help him! Here, in addition to everything
else, and even more than anything else, he is tormented by the fact that he is completely dependent on
his enemies. He is crushed in their hands like a helpless, curled-up dog with whips raining down on its
back.

He, Feodor, has seen many such things at his feet, but that he himself—

The thought of the dog brought a strange little memory to his mind. It actually had its roots far away. It
took him back to that time in his boyhood when no woman existed in his world, not in the form of sisters
or others. The sisters and their belongings were then left alone by him, not on the ground of any greater
propriety or gentleness, but for the simple reason that the whole female race was too cheap for him to
pay any attention to.