Suddenly he experienced a strong desire to rush into the woods to listen
to the sighing of the wind as it swept through the high branches of the
trees. In this music Carl took such delight that he would listen to it,
for hours, while great tears of pleasure and excitement would roll down
his sun-burnt cheeks. But it was the pleasure and excitement of a
religious enthusiast in the house of the God he worshipped. Carl never
spoke of these sentiments, and how would it have been possible for him
to do so. He never thought from whence they originated. He followed his
inclination only.
While Carl was thus engaged he suddenly saw an object which caused him
instantly to neglect the sound of his favorite music. In the grass near
the fence over which Carl was about climbing, he saw the slumbering
huntsman, with the freshly killed game reposing at his side.
Carl, without knowing why, had conceived the idea that Magde disliked
Mr. Fabian H----, and as for himself, he instinctively hated that
worthy gentleman. And another thought entered his head as he looked upon
the game.
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