"Oh!" he said, "My daughter has a strange malady, the seat of which is unknown. She suffers from incomprehensible nervous disorders. At one time, the doctors think she has an attack of heart disease, at another time, they imagine it is some affection of the liver, and at another time they declare it to be a disease of the spine. To-day, her condition is attributed to the stomach, which is the great caldron and regulator of the body, that Protean source of diseases with a thousand forms and a thousand susceptibilities to attack. This is why we have come here. For my part, I am rather inclined to think it is the nerves. In any case it is very sad."
Immediately the remembrance of the violent spasmodic movement of his hand came back to my mind, and I asked him.
"But is this not the result of heredity? Are not your own nerves somewhat affected?"
He replied calmly:
"Mine? Oh! no—my nerves have always been very steady."
Then suddenly, after a pause, he went on:
"Ah! You were alluding to the spasm in my hand every time I want to reach for anything? This arises from a terrible experience which I had. Just imagine! this daughter of mine was actually buried alive?"
I could only give utterance to the word "Ah!" so great were my astonishment and emotion.
He continued: