Chapter 8 8

Concerning the Hunter in the Woods, and his homeward walk.

We now return to our friend the sportsman, who soon awoke from his sound slumber, quite refreshed. He yawned, stretched himself, and mechanically extended his hand towards the spot where he had placed his game-bag.

Although his hand touched nothing but the grass and his gun, he nevertheless was not troubled, for he thought that he had miscalculated the distance. He searched still further; but to his surprise the game-bag was still missing. He now raised himself up in a sitting posture, and rubbing his eyes vigorously, he searched the ground closely. But his eyes, usually so good, must have been dimmed by some enchantment, for he could perceive neither the hares nor the partridges, which he could not but think were there.

Determined, however, not to believe in such marvels, for honest Fabian was a man of intelligence, he arose and peered through the bushes in the grass; he looked in the air, and he closely scanned the tops of the trees; but his efforts were fruitless. The game was not to be found.

"It is astonishing!" said he to himself. "I can not believe it! They must be here! But where the devil are they then!"

The trees retained a stubborn silence, and their example was followed by the earth, the air, and the water. Although the heat of the day was rendered still more insufferable by Mr. Fabian's thick hunting suit, yet his flesh chilled with fear when he discovered the actual loss of his partridges and hares.

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?"

"Dear Ulrique Eugenie, can you not wait until I have changed my clothes? I have travelled so far through the woods, that I can scarcely breathe, I am so weary."

"Where is the game?"

"Whew!" ejaculated her husband, "I can stand these clothes no longer." Thus saying, he hastened into the house, and proceeded to his apartment.

But this respite was of short duration. Mistress Ulrica Eugenie was familiar with the road to the chamber, and her rage reached its highest point, when she heard that the game which was intended for her dinner, had been stolen while her husband, overcome by his arduous exertions, had fallen asleep.

"O, if I only knew who did this, yes, if I only knew, I would have the rascal put in the stocks. But you, you dormouse, yes you, you call yourself a man! you! Don't you wish to borrow my petticoat! To sleep when engaged in the noble art of hunting! To complain of fatigue! Fie upon such men! But can you not discover the thief?"

"No, my dear, I assure you. I cannot, how could I know what happened while I was sleeping?"

"That is the reason why you never knew anything in your life," replied the exasperated woman. "But see there comes Gottlieb with a partridge in his hand. He is a pattern. He never allows his game to be stolen," and Mistress Ulrica composed her features, and assumed an expression of motherly benevolence, while she descended the stairs to receive her nephew.

"Thank you, good Gottlieb," said she meeting him at the door, "thank you, your uncle has been unfortunate this morning; but come with me to the dairy, and you shall have the cream of an entire pan of milk."

"The milk also, if you please, aunty, I feel myself able to devour every thing, pan and all."

"Well, satisfy yourself. By and by we will go to my bleachery and you may select a piece of linen.-Do you understand?"

"Not a word. It is all a mystery. But I do know that there is not a nephew on the entire Scandinavian peninsula, who possesses an aunt with such an affectionate disposition."

"Ah, you flatterer, it is well that you are my nephew or else Fabian might be jealous."

"Well I am not sure but that he may yet have an occasion, for, I am not aware that nephews are forbidden to love their aunts."

From that day forward Gottlieb was taken under the especial protection of his aunt, and as her favorite he was certain of a comfortable and pleasant life. When she became acquainted with his manners, virtues and accomplishments, her esteem for him was, if possible, doubly increased.

What could he not do, the dear boy? Not to speak of his wonderful success in amusing little Jean Ulrick, Mr. Fabian's sole heir, he was able to read aloud to his aunt from her favorite volume, and to repeat with almost sublime patience, all those tender passages to which she in a plaintive tone would sigh de capo. More than all this. He could sing-the model nephew-and accompany his voice with the guitar not only to the tune of "my love and I," but also to his aunt's favorite ballad, "In the shadows of the wood; in the cavern hid away." And finally there was not a female domestic in the house who dared to compete with Gottlieb in the art of chopping string beans. In short, he was a nephew whose peer could not be found in all Sweden, and who knows whether the piece of linen he chose from the bleachery was the last he received from his indulgent aunt.

Poor Gottlieb, while you are thus the prime favorite of your strong minded aunt, having free access to the pantries and dairy-rooms, have you no misgivings that the day will arrive when the doors of this house shall be closed against you? Relentless fate who ever demands a sacrifice. How true are the words of the wise Solomon, "All is vanity and vexation of spirit; and there is no profit under the sun." But it is not to be believed that Mr. Fabian's slumbers were disturbed because his wife had deserted him. No, he even preferred the company of hunger and thirst rather than that of his Ulgenie. Not that this state of mind originated from the many lectures he had received from his wife. Ah, no, there were far more powerful reasons; but it is certain that if Mistress Ulrica had suspected that her husband's indifference arose from any other motive than the wish to escape a deserved punishment she would have, undoubtedly, increased the vigor of her tongue to such a pitch that his house would have been uncomfortably warm to him.

After dining upon Gottlieb's partridge which had done much to smoothe her ruffled temper, Mrs. Ulrica was thus insinuatingly addressed by her husband:

"Have you any errands for me to perform at the parsonage, dear Ulgenie? I wish to ride down there to talk over the parish matters with the parson."

"That's right, dear Fabian. Take Gottlieb along with you. He would like to see the young ladies, each of whom are worth a ton of gold."

At this proposal Mr. Fabian's brow darkened; but the gloom was soon dispelled as Gottlieb declined the pleasure of going, and the first smile which the young man had received from his uncle was when he replied: "Excuse me to-day, my dear aunt, I wish to write to my mother."

He had no desire to disappoint his young pupil of the valley.

"Excellent youth!" exclaimed his aunt, "pleasure cannot wile you from your duties. God forbid that I should attempt to do so; and you Fabian," she added extending her arms towards her husband, "kiss me before you go. Your Ulgenie has no desire to deprive you of any reasonable enjoyments."

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