My good and martyred brother will have it that I should finish this
book. Ah, his sister would not be able to do it for grief, if it should
become necessary. But I hope to heaven that my brother is not so sick
as he fancies. After dinner indeed he has such a notion. And I, if we
are both to have any peace, must needs confirm him in it, and
acknowledge him to be just as sick as he imagines himself. Yesterday
the schoolmaster had to rap on his chest, that he might hear whether it
rang, because a certain Avenbruegger in Vienna had written that this
ringing showed sound lungs. Unfortunately it rang but little, and he
therefore gives himself up; but I will, without his knowledge, write to
Dr. Fenk, that he may allay his qualms. I have further to state that
young Mr. von Falkenberg is sick at the house of his parents in
Ober-Scheerau, and that my friend Beata is also sick with hers.... It
is a gloomy winter for us all. May the spring heal every heart and
restore to me and the readers of this book my dear brother!