united them. She was proud of him; and her eyes flashed
lightning, and her cheek flushed deeply, as she replied--

"I can forgive you now, Dumiger, all your neglect, in the hope of
seeing you famous and honored by all your fellow-townsmen."

"Ay, Marguerite," replied Dumiger, "there it is; it is fame for itself
I care for--to be great, powerful and wealthy, is a matter of but
small importance. One can live without rank, without power, without
wealth, and perhaps be all the happier for wanting them. This little
room, small and ill-furnished though it be, contains in it as much
happiness as any one heart can enjoy. If we have everything we
desire, what care I in how small a compass they may be expressed? For
instance, I would not yield one of your kisses, Marguerite, for all
the palace of the Grand Master can offer. Some of my friends have
richer abodes, but what matter? Where did Van Eyck, who immortalized
himself by that one painting, known throughout Europe as the Dantzic
picture, reside? Why, in one of those wretched buildings, ill
supported by props and pillars, near the Grime Thor, but which his
fellow-townsmen are at this moment prouder of than they are of the
Artimshof or the Stockthurm. How did Andreas Stock live? In obscurity
and penury, without one smile of good fortune to gild the darkness
of existence. But do you suppose that these men were unhappy? Oh no,
Marguerite, to make everything in nature beautiful there is but one
element in nature essential, and that is light. To make everything in
the heart rejoice there is but one sensation essential, it is love.
How think you, Marguerite?"

Her only reply was a long, long kiss.

And they retired to rest as the bells of the city chimed in the merry
morning, arousing in that city its slumbering passions, fears, loves,
difficulties, and perils, which had been for long hours buried in
sleep. But amid the various sounds which began to echo through the
streets, there was one wanting to give evidence that the dawn, of a
great town was breaking. No clock worthy of the noble Dom, imitated by
Ritter of Strasburg from St. Sophia, arrested the attention of those
who were starting forth on their several pilgrimages of toil or joy:
none had yet been wrought worthy of the mighty majestic pile which
overshadowed the free city, and reared its towers lofty as the great
League to whose wealth it owed its origin. To construct such a clock
was the object for which Dumiger labored