Fabian H---- was awakened by his affectionate wife, who informed him
that it was time for him to prepare himself for his hunting expedition.
Sleepy, and unwilling to leave his cozy bed, for the sake of enjoying
the damp morning air, Mr. Fabian addressed his spouse with all the
tenderness which his state of mind would permit:
"Dear Ulgenie, you--"
Mistress Ulrica, however, did not permit herself to be moved by this
gentle epithet.
"Fabian," said she, shaking his shoulder roughly, "you are going to
sleep again. Quick! get up! I have had your top boots nicely greased,
and on the chair you will find your hunting coat and game-bag.
Everything is made as comfortable as possible."
"Sweet Ulgenie," expostulated Mr. Fabian.
The amiable lady smiled as she heard him speak, and had not an
unfortunate yawn accompanied those two tender words, in all probability
they would have terminated this chapter. But the word yawn is not found
in Love's dictionary, and consequently the unlucky husband was forced to
rise from his bed preparatory to going forth to perform deeds of valor
in obedience to the commands of his mistress.
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