To return home without his game, was a misfortune, which under ordinary circumstances he could have endured; but on this occasion he had reason to expect a more than usually severe lecture from his wife whose command he had stubbornly disobeyed by not awakening Gottlieb.  While the unfortunate sportsman was bewailing his fate he discovered the face of his “butler,” who was peering out from between the bushes with an expression of mingled humility and mirthfulness.

“Where are my partridges, you rascal?” shouted Mr. Fabian, his face glowing with anger.

“Do you think, Mr. H——­, that I have taken them?”

“Such a jest would be but natural.  What are you doing here?  Have I not paid you enough?”

“I never do anything without orders, and if you do not wish me to remain, I will go instantly.  I thought, however, that you would be pleased if I should tell you what had become of your game.”

“That is just what I wish to know!  Has any one presumed to steal it?”

“Very likely.”

“Who?  Quick!  Tell me!”

But the butler answered only with a long drawn.  “Ah!”

“Can you substantiate what you are about to say?”

“I can swear to it, if it is necessary.  I waited here only that I might be able to explain everything to my employer, after he should awake.”

“You are a fine fellow, now tell me what evil being has entered the woods, and committed this depredation?”

“If you wish to have a full account of the matter, you should tender full payment,” said the butler, who considered this play of words exceedingly apt and forcible.

“Yes, yes, I will not be ungenerous,” replied Mr. Fabian taking a bank-note from his pocket.

“Carl,—­the fool of the valley—­purloined the hares and partridges.”

“What! that cur!—­the son of old Lonner!”

“The same.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, as certain as I am that I live.”

“Good,” said Mr. Fabian, and he repeated the same word several times, each time appearing better satisfied, and certainly the thoughts that occupied his mind must have afforded him great pleasure, for he not only forgot the trouble that awaited his return home, but also the question, which in truth should have been the first one—­why the Butler had not stopped the thief and rescued the booty.  The Butler, however, thought it expedient not to await further questions, and therefore soon found an opportunity of retreating.

Our readers may be assured that when the sportsman returned home his wife was not in the best of humor.  She awaited his coming in the parlor; but when she heard his footsteps in the court-yard, she could no longer restrain her impatience, but hastened to the window and exclaimed: 

“Where were your silly thoughts wandering, when you left the house without calling Gottlieb.  I must say that you conduct yourself friendly towards my relations, and I do think it is equally astonishing that you have come home without him.  I sent him to look for you a long time ago.  What! can I believe my eyes!  Where is the game that I was to have for dinner?”