"Tear him in pieces--he shall not have the clock. Down with Dumiger--crucify the man who could prefer the freedom of Hamburg to the honors of Dantzic. Down with him!" And the people tore up the benches, drove back the burgher guard; some of the boldest dashed on the platform; the Grand Council had to escape, carrying the stranger with them. The mob tore out of the hall, and told their friends outside--anger led to anger, the passions rose like the waves at the equinox. Nothing could stop the mob, from so apparently trifling a cause a tumult was created; the jealousy of the townsmen now appeared--that jealousy, smothered and subdued for so many years, burst forth in this madness. Poor Marguerite had fainted. Carl and Krantz, by herculean exertions, dragged her through the mob; she was taken to a small room over the great hall, and laid there until the storm should be appeased. It did not seem likely to be so. Unfortunately, one of the guards had in the tumult struck a burgher; in some of the smaller streets they were even now fighting; but the crowd in the great square seemed to have a firmer purpose, there was a gradual calm. At last one man climbed up the statue in the Center of the square. "Where is Dumiger?" he asked. And another voice answered, "He is in the debtor's prison." "We will go and lead him to his triumph," was the dark and threatening reply of the people, who now moved forward in columns. CHAPTER VI. The two days which elapsed since the interview with the stranger had been passed by Dumiger in great misery. He blamed himself deeply for having been so easily entrapped into what he feared would prove a snare, and very foolishly, as we have seen, he wrote to Marguerite that she had everything to hope, as he still retained the desire of being honored by his fellow-townsmen, although they were not to enjoy the fruit of his labors. On the eventful morning which has been described, Dumiger arose full of hope, his triumph was to be secured; and in the evening he even entertained a secret impression and belief that the people would not permit the clock to be removed, and that the error he had made might be retrieved by their energetic wills. He heard the bands of music playing in the distance. The merry chimes floated over the water, and bade him good speed. He thought that he could even discern the buzz of enjoyment, and the shout of anticipated triumph. He took out the last letter which Marguerite had written to him, and pressed it to his heart; that day, he thought, was to see them united never to be parted again. What sound was that?--Was it the wind? No, the murmur of many voices, the tramp of a thousand feet, shook the drawbridge. He heard his own name called out. Yes, it is! it surely cannot be an error; it is Dumiger they are invoking. Now there can be no mistake, the crowd unite in one loud cry,-- "Where is Dumiger?" "I am here, I am here," he shrieks out; "Open the gates."