Stefan Zweig
Image Attribution: Kunst Salon Pictzner (Public domain)
Image Attribution: Kunst Salon Pictzner (Public domain)
The doctor came at midday, a friendly older man. He recognized my family’s name and mentioned my uncle, the Kaiser’s personal physician, with so much respect that I immediately had the feeling he meant me well. He then posed all kinds of questions and one in particular that astounded me—whether I was a mathematician or perhaps a chemist. I said no.
"Remarkable," he mumbled. "In your fever you kept crying out peculiar formulae—c3, c4. We had no idea what it was."
I asked what had happened to me and he gave me an odd smile.
"Nothing serious. An acute irritation of the nerves," and, after he had cautiously looked around, added quietly: "And a wholly understandable one at that. Since the 13th of March, isn’t that right?"
I nodded.
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