now by what possibility this or
that strong mind, by the power of his will, or anxious repentance, or a
secret tormenting yearning after home, forms from his imagination a
visible frame, such as he used to wear?"

"And supposing you to be quite right, what would you profit by it?"
exclaimed the zealous doctor. "If any one who is in a discontented
mood, or state of excitement, sees any thing, it is, indeed, only and
always his own fancies, his own internal phases, which appear before
his bodily eye. This may happen to any one at times. We have in the
morning a vivid dream; we certainly awake, and still, for a moment, we
see the child for whom we yearned, the lily or rose which delighted us,
or an old friend who is a hundred miles distant. Perhaps it never yet
happened that, to one of the many ghost-seers, his aged father or
grandfather appeared as a youth or bridegroom, the murderer as a boy in
his innocence, the wild spectre of an aged prisoner as a blooming
virgin. Why, then, do not these spectres, for once, change their
shape?"

"Because," rejoined I, "they perhaps can express their imagination only
in the last state immediately preceding their change."

"Ah! this is idle," exclaimed the doctor, impatiently; "yield the point
quietly rather than vainly endeavour to refute me. Assist me rather in
restoring your friend."

"In what way can I do so?"

"It is only by some violent means that a happy beginning can be made.
Believe me, in the deepest recesses of our minds there are still
growing some weeds of vanity, concerning which we fondly deceive
ourselves, by fancying that the external surface is the proper soil for
them to luxuriate in. Even in moments of terror, in the horror of
death, or during tormenting disease, we are tickled by the
consciousness that, notwithstanding these, we experience something
apart--that we see apparitions which awaken anxiety. Nay, we go
further; we wish them back again, and as it were call them forth; our
plastic and pliant nature, and our almost inconceivable fancy obey, and
again such a bugbear is conjured up. Assist me then in persuading and
disposing our invalid to have music in the count's or your own
apartments; let us procure an instrument, and as the countess cannot
sing, she will at least play. That they may not cause an excitement,
should they again be seized by this mania, no one but yourself and I
must be present, or at most her attendant in case of a relapse. B