Caravaggio The Raising of Lazarus

seemed unbearable heat, and had to pull open her furs and push back her hood.
They were in a space about eight feet square, with corridors to the right and left, and in front of her the sort of reception: the man who'd brought her in, another man wearing a white coat, a woman in a nurse's uniform.
"English," the first man was saying. "Traders, apparently."
"Usual hunters? Usual story?"
"Same tribe, as far as I could tell. Sister Clara, could you take little, umm, and desk you might see in a hospital. Everything was brilliantly lit, with the glint of shiny white surfaces and stainless steel. There was the smell of food in the air, familiar food, bacon and and under it a faint perpetual hospital-medical smell; and coming from the walls all around was a slight humming sound, almost too low to hear, the sort of sound you had to get used to or go mad.Pantalaimon at her ear, a goldfinch now, whispered, "Be stupid and dim. Be really slow and stupid."Adults were looking down at her