Some time went on, and I recovered my strength. I was called _Number
Twelve_; and _Number Twelve_, on account of his long beard, passed for
a Jew, on which account, however, he was not at all the less carefully
treated. That he had no shadow appeared to have been unobserved. My
boots, as I was assured, were, with all that I had brought hither, in
good keeping, in order to be restored to me on my recovery. The place
in which I lay was called the SCHLEMIHLIUM. What was daily read aloud
concerning Peter Schlemihl was an exhortation to pray for him as the
Founder and Benefactor of this institution. The friendly man whom I
had seen by my bed was Bendel; the lovely woman was Mina.
I recovered unrecognized in the Schlemihlium; and learned yet further
that I was in Bendel's native city, where, with the remains of my
otherwise unblessed gold, he had in my name founded this
Hospital, where the unhappy blessed me, and himself maintained its
superintendence. Mina was a widow. An unhappy criminal process had
cost Mr. Rascal his life, and her the greater part of her property.
Her parents were no more. She lived here as a pious widow, and
practised works of mercy.
Once she conversed with Mr. Bendel at the bedside of _Number Twelve_.
"Why, noble lady, will you so often expose yourself to the bad
atmosphere which prevails here? Does fate then deal so hardly with you
that you wish to die?"
"No, Mr.
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