He heard their judgment, and thought about the strict, impolite connotations that such a word holds.
"Judgment," he muttered. "Judgment is mine, sayeth the doctor."
Still, he thought more about the judgment itself, its implications. He, of course, refused to repeat them, considering them obscene and uncivilized. He thought more about the architecture of the courtroom and the outer chambers as the constables escorted him through.
"Grecian, if not Roman," he thought, but kept to himself. He did not go on to say "such marble, oh, look at the flowing tapestries. The porticoes. Are those pewter death masks? Puts hair on your chest, m'boy," though he easily could have.
At a large table, the doctor was forced to dine with unsavory ladies and unscrupulous gentlemen. This hurt his eyes a bit. They were of little importance to anything outside of themselves, he imagined, though noting the same of himself. They, however, had tiny, if not insignificant concepts of self, whereas the doctor prided himself on the self he had constructed. Damned he may be (and like an ant) but to himself, there was none greater. He thought this not to stroke his own ego, but to set things as they were, and as they could never cease to be.
"But these ones," he began, motioning at the others. He stopped where he began. They grabbed pieces of dromedary, braised terrier, racks of siamese and other felines - various defeathered bird were torn apart. A fat woman, a woman the doctor noted as such, bit into such limbs and abdomens (they all did, all but the doctor) and bit straight through bone to her own finger, to which she gasped and dropped a monkey arm to the delight of her neighbor.
Various words of derision met the doctor. He wondered whethere this was a result of his lack of clothing (if indeed that was still his situation, he didn't care to investigate) or their general sizing up of his character/personality. They spilled his grape juice and offered him mud. Mud from the muddy people, he figured.
"Is this a gesture of kindness?" he asked himself before looking at them again, their faces, their grimaces of gluttony, and deciding it was not. He felt a sort of sorrow, not a deep sense of it, but a general sense of revulsion. This made him feel a bit better about himself in comparison, but less so when he realized that, to the casual observer, he was a part of their dinner party.
"Malarkies," he stated to the sounds about him.
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