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‘Yes, Sir, I’m the man; what would you have with me?’ and, at the same time looking earnestly at him, he remembered his face amongst the footmen on the birth-night.

‘At the Forester’s house–about eleven o’clock,’ whispered the man mysteriously.

‘Very good,’ said Mr. Schnackenberger, nodding significantly; and forthwith, upon the wings of rapturous anticipation, he flew to the place of rendezvous.

On riding into the Forester’s court-yard, among several other open carriages, he observed one lined with celestial blue, which, with a strange grossness of taste, exhibited upon the cushions a medley of hams, sausages, etc. On entering the house, he was at no loss to discover the owner of the carriage; for in a window-seat of the bar sate the landlady of the Golden Sow, no longer in widow’s weeds, but arrayed in colours brighter than a bed of tulips.

Mr. Schnackenberger was congratulating himself on his quarrel with her, which he flattered himself must preclude all amicable intercourse, when she saw him, and to his horror approached with a smiling countenance. Some overtures towards reconciliation he saw were in the wind: but, as these could not be listened to except on one condition, he determined to meet her with a test question: accordingly, as she drew near, simpering and languishing,

‘Have you executed?’ said he abruptly, ‘Have you executed?’

‘Have I what?’ said Mrs. Sweetbread.

‘Executed? Have you executed the release?’

‘Oh! you bad man! But come now: I know—-‘

At this moment, however, up came some acquaintances of Mrs. Sweetbread’s, who had ridden out to see the hunt; and, whilst her attention was for one moment drawn off to them, Mr. Schnackenberger slipped unobserved into a parlour: it was now half-past ten by the Forester’s clock; and he resolved to wait here until the time fixed by the princess. Whilst sitting in this situation, he heard in an adjoining room (separated only by a slight partition) his own name often repeated: the voice was that of Mr. Von Pilsen; loud laughter followed every sentence; and on attending more closely, Mr. Schnackenberger perceived that he was just terminating an account of his own adventures at the Golden Sow, and of his consequent embroilment with the amorous landlady. All this, however, our student would have borne with equanimity. But next followed a disclosure which mortified his vanity in the uttermost degree. A few words sufficed to unfold to him that Mr. Von Pilsen, in concert with the waiter of the Double-barrelled Gun and that young female attendant of the princess, whose kitten had been persecuted by Juno, had framed the whole plot, and had written the letters which Mr. Schnackenberger had ascribed to her Highness. He had scarce patience to hear out the remainder. In some way or other, Von Pilsen had so far mistaken our hero, as to pronounce him ‘chicken-hearted:’ and upon this ground, he invited his whole audience to an evening party at the public rooms of the Double-barrelled Gun–where he promised to play off Mr. Schnackenberger as a glorious exhibition for this night only.

Furious with wrath, and moreover anxious to escape before Von Pilsen and his party should see him, and know that this last forgery no less than the others had succeeded in duping him into a punctual observance of the appointment, Mr. Schnackenberger rushed out of the room, seized his horse’s bridle–and was just on the point of mounting, when up came his female tormentor, Mrs. Sweetbread.

‘Come, come, now,’ said she, smiling in her most amiable manner; ‘we were both under a mistake yesterday morning: and both of us were too hasty. The booby of a lad took you to the Gun, when you wanted nothing but the Sow: you were a little “fresh,” and didn’t know it; and I thought you did it on purpose. But I know better now. And here I am to fetch you back to the Sow: so come along: and we’ll forget and forgive on both sides.’