how he had aimed a double-barreled English rifle at a lioness,
and had fired two shots so rapidly one after the other, that the ball
from the right barrel shot out the animal's right eye, and that from
the other the left--even this narrative, about whose truthfulness some
doubts had occasionally been expressed, was apparently swallowed in all
faith. The champagne had done all the rest; so that the happy man
started out of the sweetest dreams when his carriage drew up before the
wicket-gate of the Starnberg villa.

He was surprised to see that the balcony-room was still lighted up. It
was not in the least like Irene to allow an affectionate anxiety for
her night-owl of an uncle to keep her awake, and all signs of light
were extinguished in the neighboring houses. Then it occurred to him
that perhaps Schnetz had decided to stay out overnight, and to sit up
until his return. He was glad of this, for it would afford him an
opportunity to give an account of his triumphs to a connoisseur in such
matters; and he was therefore disagreeably disappointed when, upon his
entering the little _salon_ up-stairs where the light was burning, his
young niece alone advanced to meet him.

Her face looked so strangely agitated, her manner was so excited, that
his champagne spirits departed on the instant, and he asked, in great
alarm, what had happened, and what had become of friend Schnetz? and
why Irene, who was evidently unwell, had not gone to bed?

Speaking rapidly and with difficulty, she gave him an account of what
had passed. Not until she had finished the story did the name of him
who had played the chief _role_ in this bloody catastrophe pass her
lips.

But the effect produced by her account was very different from what she
had expected.

Instead of expressing horror and sympathy the lively gentleman ran
around the room uttering a cry of joy, rubbing his hands and behaving
himself generally in such a delighted way, that Irene regarded him with
amazement, and finally asked him whether he had been listening to her,
or whether his thoughts were still with the merry hunting-party he had
just quitted.

"No, no! my dearest child," he cried, suddenly halting before her. "You
suspect me wrongly. Unfortunately I am accustomed to being
misunderstood by you, and to being accused of a frivolity which
sometimes overtakes me even in those moments when my proud little niece
assumes her most tragic tone. But, believe me, Irene dear, I see