“Yes, and I suspect my father is your correspondent, too. I really fear I am not the person you suppose me to be.”
“What! what, what do you mean?” he cried, endeavouring to raise himself in his bed, and looking precisely like a writhing caddice-worm.
“I mean that I received a letter the day before yesterday, inviting me to come here; the seal was a coronet, and it was signed A. Z. I arrived; made inquiries, and too hastily, it seems, concluded that Count Zedwitz, or one of his family, had written to me. Your daughter confirmed me in my error by saying that you had lately written to an Englishman in Munich, and wished very much to see him.”
“Hum, ha!—very odd!” murmured the Count, fixing his eyes sharply on Hamilton. “May I ask your name?”
“Hamilton,” replied the Englishman, with an ill-concealed attempt to repress an inclination to laugh.
“I have not the honour of knowing any one of that name,” said the Count, endeavouring, as well as his blankets would permit him, to look dignified. “I am surprised, sir, you did not perceive the mistake sooner!”
“So am I,” replied Hamilton, his rising colour betraying the embarrassment he endeavoured to conceal; “but every moment some remark of yours made me doubt again; besides,” he added, moving towards the door, “I must confess, I wished to hear something of this water-cure, which is quite new to me; I never heard of it until yesterday. However, I am extremely sorry for having forced myself upon your acquaintance, and can only regret that my correspondent had not written his name in full; from these initials, it seems, I have but a small chance of discovering the writer!”
“I don’t know that,” cried Count Zedwitz, suddenly changing his manner; “it is by no means improbable that the letter is from Baron Z—; his wife is an Englishwoman. I should recommend your seeing them before you give up your search. And—and,” he added—hesitatingly—“as you seem interested on the subject of hydropathy, I shall have great pleasure in lending you some books and giving you every information in my power about Preissnitz and Graefenberg. In the mean time, look over this little work—it is not necessary to be a physician to understand it. You will find here a description of Graefenberg, the establishment of Preissnitz, who discovered this most rational mode of curing all diseases; and, I doubt not, you will soon be convinced of the uselessness of physicians and apothecaries, and place, as I do, all your reliance on cold water. Read what is said about perspiration, cold water drinking, and bathing; read and judge for yourself. I shall see you at dinner-time.”
Hamilton received the book with expressions of gratitude which were really sincere. The happy termination of this interview made him feel that he had gained an acquaintance, who might, perhaps, turn into a friend, if he submitted to the ordeal by water.