“And when you have succeeded, Dumiger,” said the Count, in a voice which he intended to be very kind, but whose inflection manifested a bitter disappointment,—­“and when you have succeeded, will you be happier?  Do you think, Dumiger, that greatness adds to happiness?  Ah, you know little of the world if you believe this.  Besides, remember, you may fail, and then how bitter your disappointment will be!”

Dumiger was seated with his arms folded, and scarcely paying any attention to the Count’s observations:  his mind was wandering amid the planets.

“Look, Dumiger, you are attached to Marguerite.”

At the name of Marguerite, Dumiger raised his head and concentrated all his attention.

“You love her better than all the world?”

“Far better,” said Dumiger.

“For her, like a man of heart, you would sacrifice everything!” continued the wily Count.

Dumiger nodded his head in assent.

“Even the clock?”

A glow mantled over Dumiger’s cheek; he was about to answer in the affirmative, when he remembered that the clock had been his companion for five years past.  He had lived with it, breathed his own life into its movements,—­should he renounce the clock?  It, as well as Marguerite, had become a part of himself; it had long stood him in the place of family, of love, of all those enjoyments which youth so wantonly and earnestly clings to.  The results of success, ambition, honors, wealth,—­all this he would give up for Marguerite; but his clock—­he hesitated.

The Count repeated the question.

At that moment a sweet voice might be heard caroling one of those simple national airs which are dear to all nations and all times.  Marguerite had a soft, winning voice, well adapted to the song she was singing.  The Count, as well as Dumiger, paused in his conversation; the color rose again to Dumiger’s face as he thought how nearly he was on the point of sacrificing his faith, and loving the work of his own hands more than the admirable work of Nature which had been bestowed upon him, and, as he listened, he lowered his voice and said,—­

“For her I would sacrifice even the clock!”

“You shall,” exclaimed the Count.

“I shall!” said Dumiger, starting from his seat.  “Now in what way do you mean, my Lord Count?”

“You know,” said the Count, “the value of the prize which is offered by the town.  It is worth little in money.  The honor is considered sufficient.  Then you are to be given high place amongst the good citizens, a laurel crown, to ride a white horse, and sundry other trumperies.”

The Count looked at Dumiger while he applied the word trumperies to those results which the latter had so impatiently striven for,—­for which he had been laboring night and day.  These outward signs of the results of great ambition,—­these to be called trumperies!  Dumiger looked at the Count with astonishment.