Even to the most unpracticed eye this model of a great work appeared to be of admirable skill. So complicated was the machinery, that the marvel seemed to be how it was possible so nicely to have arranged its various parts, that they could find sufficient space for working. Massive weights were regulated by springs of such fine texture, that it was surprising how they could possibly have been made by a man's rude hand. The movement was perfectly noiseless, so beautifully were the balances arranged around the principal works of the clock itself: the heavenly bodies were moving in harmony and regularity; the face of the clock had not yet been affixed, so the whole of the interior operations of the machinery were apparent. The Count gazed astonished at the result of long perseverance and indomitable energy. Dumiger stood beside him holding the massive curtain aside, and delighting in the Count's amazement. At length he allowed it to fall, exclaiming, with pardonable self-love, "Surely this must succeed!" The Count resumed his seat, and, for some time, was unable to regain the composure which he had lost by the sight which he had seen. Dumiger sat buried in thought. "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.