The lieutenant still remained near him. Dumiger would not open the letters in his presence. At last the officer, after some minutes' delay, and having sung sundry snatches of martial airs, gave Dumiger a contemptuous, indignant glance, and stalked out of the cell, taking care to rattle the bolts and bars as a punishment to Dumiger for not gratifying his curiosity. Poor devil, it was his only amusement to pry into the prisoners' secrets.
"How is the lad?" asked the second in command when his commander appeared.
"Better than he will be when he knows the charges for which he is shut up. At present he is under the impression it is only for debt; but when he learns it is for treason, he will whimper and whine even more than he has been doing."
"What, so young and a traitor!" exclaimed the subaltern, who was evidently the kinder spirit of the two. "It is almost incredible."
"It may be," continued the lieutenant. "I have directions from the Grand Master and Council to keep a strict watch over him. They say that he is a most dangerous character. But I never trouble myself much about these kind of fellows. I do my duty quietly. Meanwhile, I have given him letters which won't add to his happiness much when he reads them, if I am to believe what the inspector told me, who of course read them and sealed them again."
The moment the lieutenant had left the cell, Dumiger eagerly tore open Marguerite's letter, without remarking that it had been opened ere it reached him. He read it through with that rapidity of glance and mental discernment which fear and love combined can alone give. It was with a groan of horror that he allowed the letter to drop from his hands, for the full extent of the difficulties of his situation now broke upon him. She told him that the same evening, the moment his arrest was known in the neighborhood, bills had poured in from all quarters; that she had seen his friends Carl and Krantz, who called early on that morning, and who found it impossible to obtain one-tenth of the sum now required for his release. All they could do, therefore, was to take charge of the wonderful model, and carry it to the Court-house, where it would have to remain until the decision of the Council should be proclaimed. The second letter, which was from Carl, was still more appalling, for he told Dumiger how essential it was for him to make any sacrifice in order to put the whole machinery in order, so that his work might appear to the judges in the most favorable point of view. He undertook, however, to engage the best mechanist in Dantzic, in the event of Dumiger not being able to obtain his release before the appointed day.
What was to be done? Dumiger felt himself driven almost to frenzy. He thought of Marguerite, of his clock, of his friends; he then began to think that be had acted very foolishly in refusing the offer of the Grand Master, who, he felt assured, although the lieutenant would not admit it to him, was the cause of all his misery. The more he reflected on the past, the more desperate he became; he rolled on the ground in agony; the whole day passed in efforts to reach the window, whence at least he might perceive the situation of his house, or to shake the bars of the strongly-ironed door. Toward evening a soldier brought him some refreshment, but preserved an obstinate silence. Dumiger allowed the refreshment to remain untasted on the ground; he could not touch it. The evening grew on apace, the merry chimes from the Dom of the city came across the water; it struck him that they had never chimed so musically before, or with so much meaning. Another long, long night of agony was to be passed, and where and how was suspense to end?
Time swept on, but this night they brought him no lamp, so that he had no means of measuring its progress; he could only judge how heavily the hours rolled by the tramp of the guards as they marched over the drawbridge to the several reliefs. At ten o'clock he heard the bugles sounding the retreat, and then when he pictured to himself his gentle young bride, so sweet, so lovely—when he remembered how greatly he had neglected her for his ambition—he loathed himself for what he used to consider laudable, but now felt to have been mere selfishness.
It was still very early, for the gray cold streaks of morning had not pierced the prison-bars, when Dumiger was roused from his uneasy slumber by the rattling of the lock of his door. He looked up and saw with surprise a man who was not dressed in uniform.
"Who are you? What do you want?" exclaimed Dumiger, "for there is such a thing as intrusion even in a prison."