"A good many doctors have already been consulted." "Indeed!" "Yes, some came from Berlin in great wigs who only asked to see the patient's tongue. Others from Switzerland examined him another way. The doctors from Paris stared at their patient through magnifying glasses to learn something from his physiognomy. But all their learning was wasted, and they got large fees in reward of their ignorance." "Is that the way you speak of us medical gentlemen?" "I am not alluding to you at all. I have too much respect for you, and if I should happen to break my leg I don't know that there is another that I should prefer to yourself to treat me as a patient, but you have not discovered an optical instrument yet to tell what is going on inside of us." "How do you know that?" At this reply the worthy fellow looked at me doubtfully as if he thought me a quack like the rest, yet he replied-- "Well, Fritz, if you have indeed such a glass it will be wanted now, for the count's complaint is internal; it is a terrible kind of illness, something like madness. You know that madness shows itself in either nine hours, nine days, or nine weeks?" "So it is said; but not having noticed this myself, I cannot say that it is so." "Still you know there are agues which return at periods of either three, six, or nine years. There are singular works in this machinery of ours. Whenever this human clockwork is wound up in some particular way, fever, or indigestion, or toothache returns at the very hour and day." "Why, Gideon, I am quite aware of that; those periodical complaints are the greatest trouble we have." "I am sorry to hear it, for the count's complaint is periodical; it comes back every year, on the same day, at the same hour; his mouth runs over with foam, his eyes stand out white and staring, like great billiard-balls; he shakes from head to foot, and he gnashes with his teeth." "Perhaps this man has had serious troubles to go through?" "No, he has not. If his daughter would but consent to be married he would be the happiest man alive. He is rich and powerful and full of honours. He possesses everything that the rest of the world is coveting. Unfortunately his daughter persists in refusing every offer of marriage. She consecrates her life to God, and it harasses him to think that the ancient house of Nideck will become extinct." "How did his illness come on?" I asked. "Suddenly, ten years ago," was the reply. All at once the honest fellow seemed to be recollecting himself. He took from his pocket a short pipe, filled it, and having lighted it--