"O, he is in no want of wit, and his weak mind shall not serve him as a protection when he stands before the justice. Theft is theft, no matter who commits it. At least so the law considers it."
"The game!" cried Magde clasping her hands in despair and terror.
"You are right, the game that he stole from me this morning while I was sleeping. I knew full well that the proud and conscientious Magde, would not deny that he had brought it home."
"But who could have—have—"
"Right, who could have believed that he would have done so, and that is the very point, and an unlucky one, for it proves that he must have been seen while committing the theft."
"How terrible this is! A few days ago I happened to say that I wished we had some game for our old father, and now—now—"
"Calm yourself," interrupted Mr. Fabian, extending his hand and enforcing his consolation by a love-tap upon Magde's shoulder. In her affliction Magde did not withdraw from this salute, and Mr. Fabian had an opportunity of gazing upon her lovely neck for a full moment, to prolong which he would have given the value of a hundred hares and partridges. But Magde arousing herself from her stupor, looked her guest full in the face, and there read an expression which displeased her.
With a blush she replaced the handkerchief around her neck, and suddenly enquired:
"What then, sir, is the real intention of your visit? You said you would not disturb us, and as the game is untouched we can return it immediately."
"The game is not the object of my visit."