"Your vaife! Ah, ha! you are verlobt, vat you call engachement, vat? And she is----?" touching his forehead. "Ach, du lieber Gott! dass ist aber schwer. Und so fine a young man! How do you call? Vat is your name, eh?" "You have heard it before, I think," said George. "My name is Wainwright." "Vainwraet!" screamed the old gentleman; "was von Vainwraet dass der _Tarkened Maind_, der _Seclusion, is it koot or bat?_ der _Non Restraint in Lunacie_, und so weiter? der Doctor Vainwraet, are you mit ihm verwandt, are you of him relatived?" "I am Dr. Wainwright's son," said George. "His sohn! was der sohn of Vainwraet, der berühmter Doctor Vainwraet, was von die Pedlams, und die Lukes und Hanvell Hash--Hatch, vot you call; is dass shaining licht, so hell and so klar, dass his sohn should komm to Chermany to consult _.me_, one such humble man, is to me honourable indeed." George readily detected a very strong accent of scorn running through this speech, and the bow with which the old gentleman concluded it was one of mock humility. He scarcely knew how to reply; but after a moment's pause he said, "I thought, sir, you would know my father's name." "His name is mir sehr wohl bekannt, ver veil bequaint with him," said the Doctor with a grin, "and mit his praxis nevertheless, notwithstanding, likewise," he added, nodding his head with great delight as he uttered each of the last three words. "Tell to me, your father has he seen your braut, dass mädchen, die young dame?" "Yes, he has seen her several times." "And what says he of her?" George shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head despairingly. "He says he can do her no good--that her case is incurable." "Which is two tifferent brobositions, of which I cannot tubidade about the fairst, though the second may not be founded on fact," said the Doctor. "No, my young chentleman, I am combassionate and sorrow for you, but I cannot preak my rule. I hef retaired myself to studiren, and will inspect no more curatives; and as to your father, der berühmter Vainwraet, it is not for him I preak my rule! He is an shamposter, see you, an shamposter!" The puffs from the pipe came very thick and very rapidly. "An shamposter, sir, mit his dreadises and his bamphlets, and his lecturings delivered before the Collegiums drum und herum! He laugh at my ice-theory in his vat you call Physikalische Zeitung, _Lancer--Lancet!_ He make chokes at my institute in Dorrendorf, vat? He is a shamposter, dieser Vainwraet, and to the devil mit him and his sohn, and die ganze geschichte!" The old gentleman waved his hand as he spoke, as if he were really consigning his visitor to the dread limbo which he had named, reseated himself at his desk, from which he had risen in his rage, and began writing and smoking furiously. What was to be done? George made an attempt at renewing the conversation, but the Doctor only waved his arm impatiently, and cried "Fort!" in shrill accents.