irable, but they must know the origin of
this beauty, and the cause of the harmony which strikes them with
wonder. It is not enough for them to be told they are "fearfully
and wonderfully made," but they must attend schools to learn why
they live, move, and have their being. Such is man, blinded by his
self-conceit; blasted not by the excess, but by the partial light
which bursts upon him: whereas woman moves clear in her apprehension,
because she believes that "whatever is, is right;" and great in her
intelligence, because she knows she is ignorant.

The count saw that all further appeals to Dumiger's interest would now
be thrown away, but he was not on that account to be baffled.

"Very well, sir," he said, in an angry voice; "I make you the greatest
offer that was ever made to any workman in this city, and you reject
it with contempt. The day will come when you shall repent it. I would
have saved you for that woman's sake, from the distress and ruin which
are impending over you, but you will not be free. Look to it, sir, for
there is danger even now. Your success is not so certain. I have it in
my power to crush you, and your pride shall be broken."

So saying he took up the rouleau of gold he had given to Marguerite
and departed. Dumiger and Marguerite stood side by side, alarmed, but
still unbending; and yet the man who spoke to them was of great power.
To recite his titles once more:--Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights,
President of the City Council; magnificent in his promise, fierce
in his resentments, unscrupulous in his means. For a moment Dumiger
looked at Marguerite as though he were disposed to yield to the
tyranny of that great man, but a glance from her reassured him; and
it was with a low but formal reverence that he opened the door to
the illustrious visitor, while Marguerite stood proud, haughty, and
reserved.

"Did we do wisely?" said Dumiger, when the door closed upon them.

"Wisely!" exclaimed Marguerite; "oh, Dumiger, can you doubt it? I feel
myself worthier of you now that I was able to influence you in your
moment of uncertainty. I say moment, for I will not believe that, upon
reflection, you could have hesitated in your decision. Better risk
all and lose all than sacrifice the glorious object which you have in
view. Who would not prefer the greatness which must be yours, if you
succeed? and the count has at least taught us one thing, that success
is almost certain,--who would not prefer t