"Let you go, miscreant!" exclaimed Dumiger, "never, until you return me that paper. Let you go! I will follow you to death rather. You betrayed me into this act; it was not my own free will. I am the victim of the basest conspiracy. I have been induced to sell my birthright--I prefer to remain in prison--I love my townspeople--I will not be free on these conditions! Give me back my bond!" "Never!" said the man, putting himself into an attitude of defense. And he did wisely, for there was desperation in Dumiger's eye. He waited a moment, and then with a maniac's strength he flew at the man, but he found a powerful and vigorous antagonist. The stranger, who had appeared half decrepit and aged, rose up in all the strength of youth. In a moment he had grasped Dumiger's arms, very coolly taken out a handkerchief, and in spite of all Dumiger's efforts bound his hands together. After he had performed this operation he drew the document again from his pocket, so as to be well assured that it was correctly signed, and smiled as he said to Dumiger-- "You know that signature?" "Scoundrel! miscreant!" were the only words to which Dumiger could give utterance. "And now, fellow-citizen," said the man, "I bid you farewell. Keep your temper; these sober arts should have taught you this kind of self-command. You will soon be free. As for your arms, I dare not untie them now, but I will send the guard to you. Now, holloa, guard without there!" and he left the cell. What did all this mean? A mystery seemed to be encircling Dumiger which he could not penetrate. He knew there was danger near him, but was unable to define its extent. Only one thing was now certain--he had sold that clock on which years of toil had been bestowed, and not in vain. He had but a few days since contemplated certain success, now how far it was from him! And Hamburgh--to be great and ennobled there, what did that signify to him? How long would it not take for him, the inhabitant of the great rival city, to be admitted into this new society? No, he had made an error which could never be recalled; he had broken the ties which were once so dear to him. Dumiger now learned the great truth, that it is only the opinion of the few with whom we are most intimate that we care for. It is nothing to be great amongst those with whom we have no sympathies, no affections in common. The kind word from one lip which we love is far more to be prized than the loudest acclamations of thousands to whom we are indifferent. CHAPTER V.