and antique gabled city. It was the _fête_ of the patron saints of
the town,--strange evidence of a future state, even among those who
reflect but little; for there as ever all men turn alike to some
mysterious guardian for protection, and like this city are consecrated
to some faith. In the midst of these happy groups, which were
collected at every corner and filled every gasthof, moved Dumiger
and Marguerite, most blessed and happy where all looked smiling and
contented. Marguerite was the envy of all brides, and of those who
wished to become so; and there was not a young burgher of distinction
who had not at some time or another looked upon her with admiring
gaze, and followed her to the palace in which she dwelt, and loitered
under her window,--where, however, the thin slight curtain was rarely
if ever drawn aside to satisfy the vanity of the gazer or to kindle
her own. She was of a very admirable beauty, as perfect as is commonly
found in nature, which fancy can at will outwork,--tall, of excellent
symmetry, with a clear, noble brow, the proudest type of Nature's
glory. There were few in town who did not know her at all events, from
reputation, and that reputation was spotless. Of Dumiger's appearance
we cannot say as much: he would have been decidedly plain but for the
indications of genius which his countenance afforded. His forehead
was marked with the lines of patient and anxious thought; but these
evidences, if they did not serve to please the gazer, at least
commanded his respect. He was somewhat bent by premature exertion; the
hair, even at that early age, was thin and scanty on the temples; his
step was slightly enfeebled by want of proper exercise. Altogether
he was a very remarkable man from the intellectual power which every
lineament expressed; yet altogether he was scarcely such a person
as would have been considered likely to awaken a strong passion in
a young girl like Marguerite. For it is too true that, to use the
expression of a writer of that age, _il avait l'air d'un âme qui avait