She looked her answer in those dark, speaking, lustrous eyes. The
greatness of his mind had passed to hers; the mysterious sympathy of
kindred souls 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?"