At sundown, when he was taking his patient’s pulse, Vincent awoke. He stared at the ceiling, then the whitewashed wall, then out of the window at the patch of darkening blue sky. His eyes wandered slowly to Doctor Rey’s face.
“Hello,” he said, softly.
“Hello,” replied Doctor Rey.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital of Arles.”
“Oh.”
A flash of pain went across his face. He lifted his hand to where his right ear had once been. Doctor Rey stopped him.
“You mustn’t touch,” he said.
“. . . Yes . . . I remember . . . now.”
“It’s a nice, clean wound, old fellow. I’ll have you on your feet within a few days.”
“Where is my friend?”
“He has returned to Paris.”
“. . . I see . . . May I have my pipe?”
“Not just yet, old fellow.”
Doctor Rey bathed and bandaged the wound.
“It’s an accident of very little importance,” he said. “After all, a man doesn’t hear with those cabbages he has stuck on the outside of his head. You won’t miss it.”
“You are very kind, Doctor. Why is the room . . . so bare?”
“I had everything taken out to protect you.”
“Against whom?”
“Against yourself.”
“. . . Yes . . . I see . . .”
“Well, I must go now. I’ll send the attendant in with your supper. Try to lie perfectly still. The loss of blood has made you weak.”
When Vincent awoke in the morning. Theo was sitting by his bedside. Theo’s face was pale and drawn, his eyes bloodshot.
“Theo,” said Vincent.
Theo slipped off the chair, went on his knees beside the bed, and took Vincent’s hand. He wept without shame or restraint.
“Theo . . . always . . . when I wake up . . . and need you . . . you’re by my side.”
Theo could not speak.
“It was cruel to make you come all the way down here. How did you know?”
“Gauguin telegraphed yesterday. I caught the night train.”
“That was wrong of Gauguin to put you to all that expense. You sat up all night, Theo.”
“Yes, Vincent.”
They were silent for some time.
“I’ve spoken to Doctor Rey, Vincent. He says it was a sunstroke. You’ve been working in the sun without a hat, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you see, old boy, you mustn’t. In the future you must wear your hat. Lots of people here in Aries get sunstroke.”
Vincent squeezed his hand gently. Theo tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
“I have some news for you, Vincent, but I think it had better wait a few days.”
“Is it nice news, Theo?”
“I think you’ll like it.”
Doctor Rey walked in.
“Well, how’s the patient this morning?”
“Doctor, may my brother tell me some good news?”
“I should say so. Here, wait a minute. Let me look at this. Yes, that’s fine, that’s fine. It’ll be healing fast, now.”
When the doctor left the room, Vincent begged for his news.
“Vincent,” said Theo, “I’ve . . . well, I . . . I’ve met a girl.”
“Why, Theo.”
“Yes. She’s a Dutch girl. Johanna Bunger. She’s a lot like mother, I think.”
“Do you love her, Theo?”
“Yes. I’ve been so desperately lonely without you in Paris, Vincent. It wasn’t so bad before you came, but after we had lived together for a year . . .”
“I was hard to live with, Theo. I’m afraid I showed you a bad time.”
“Oh, Vincent, if you only knew how many times I wished I could walk into the apartment on the Rue Lepic and find your shoes on the sideboard, and your wet canvases all over my bed. But we mustn’t talk any more. You must rest. We’ll just stay here with each other.”
Theo remained in Aries two days. He left only when Doctor Rey assured him that Vincent would make a rapid recovery, and that he would take care of his brother, not only as a patient but as a friend.
Roulin came every evening and brought flowers. During the nights Vincent suffered from hallucinations. Doctor Rey put camphor on Vincent’s pillow and mattress to overcome his insomnia.
At the end of the fourth day, when the Doctor saw that Vincent was completely rational, he unlocked the door of the room and had the furniture put back.
“May I get up and dress, Doctor?” asked Vincent.
“If you feel strong enough. Come to my office after you have had a little air.”
The hospital of Aries was of two stories, built in a quadrangle, with a patio in the centre, full of riotously coloured flowers, ferns, and gravel walks. Vincent strolled about slowly for a few minutes, then went to Doctor Rey’s office on the ground floor.
“How does it feel to be on your feet?” asked the doctor.
“Very good.”
“Tell me, Vincent, why did you do it?”
Vincent was silent for a long time.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“What were you thinking of when you did it?”
“. . . I . . . wasn’t . . . thinking. Doctor.”
Vincent spent the next few days recovering his strength. One morning, while he was chatting with Doctor Rey in the latter’s room, he picked up a razor off the washstand and opened it.
“You need a shave, Doctor Rey,” he said. “Would you like me to give you one?”
Doctor Rey backed into a corner, the palm of his hand out before his face.
“No! No! Put that down!”
“But I’m really a good barber, Doctor. I could give you a nice shave.”
“Vincent! Put that razor down!”
