Isle of the Dead

than to watch each other
and have no hope at all.

The wind is our only hope.
A change in the wind. Is that it, Doctor?

Of course, we can take certain simple
sanitary precautions.

The General is putting
all his hopes on you, Doctor.

Yes, I know.
That frightens me more than the plague.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

I wonder if I could have a word
with you alone, Doctor?

I have an explanation
and apology to make to you.

- Certainly.
- Oh, don't go, I'm leaving.

The ledge is getting too populous.
Remember the General's instructions
about gathering in groups.

Doctor, I'm extremely sorry
for what happened yesterday.

- I would like to explain.
- Of course, Mrs. St. Aubyn.

All my life, I've had a dreadful fear
of premature burial.

I awaken sometimes
screaming with nightmares...

in which I see myself buried alive...
waking to find myself entombed,
without air...

- stifling, and no escape.
- I know. It's not an uncommon fear.

Perhaps I have more reason
for my fear than most.

You see, since childhood I've been ill.
I have fainting spells.

Was it I who mentioned
catalepsy yesterday?

Yes. I couldn't tell you then.
I've had trances lasting more than a day...
with almost complete suspension
of heartbeat and respiration.

I should have known. I'm terribly sorry.
I would never have spoken as I did.

But you need not fear.
I will take every precaution,
make every known test.

- If you are unlucky...
- Thank you.

Now that you understand,
I'm no longer afraid.