As a preliminary to my magneto-magic treatment, I am beginning by subjecting her to a fasting-cure. This means that every day all she is to have is a quarter of a wafer and thirteen drops of raspberry juice.
"Sage es aber niemanden! Verbrenne diesen Brief!" ("But don't tell anybody about it; burn this letter") was the exorcist's final injunction.
To live up to his reputation for wonder-working, the mystic had an Æolian harp in each of the windows of his house, so arranged that Ariel-like voices would float through the summer breezes.
"It is magic," said the peasants, crossing themselves devoutly when they heard the sound.
But the harp-obligato proved no more effective than the reduced dieting and early attempt to popularise slimming. After a couple of days, accordingly, the regime was varied by the substitution of asses' milk for the raspberry juice. Much to his annoyance, however, the specialist had to report to another correspondent, Sophie Schwab, that his patient was not deriving any real benefit, and that the troublesome "devil" had not been dislodged.
As was to be expected, Lola, having a healthy appetite and objecting to short rations, gave the mesmerist the slip and hurried back to her Ludwig. After a few words with him, she left for Stahrenberg.
Ludwig sat down and wrote another "poem." Appropriately enough, this was entitled "Lamentation."