In the holy fervor of her enthusiasm, Katharine von Bora stretched forth her hands and cried: "Easter! Easter! Thou name full of joy and of life! Hear our resurrection hymn, thou Saviour, who hast had mercy on us. We were dead, and behold, we live! The grave has yielded up its prey, and with the golden Easter sun, life sends us its greeting! Hallelujah! O thou world, from which I fled, receive me once more; for vanity and delusion is the sanctity of convent life. Receive me, O world, shone upon by God's sun, and peopled with living beings! In thee, more worthily than in the nun's habit will I serve my God! Lord of the world, Thy kingdom is wide, Thou wilt doubtless have in it a place for poor Katharine!" CHAPTER V. SHELTERED. The month of May had come. In the Burgomaster's street, in Wittenberg, stood a high-gabled house, ornamented with two fierce dragon heads. There the syndic, Master Philip Reichenbach, and his wife were seated near a window enjoying the twilight--the sweetest hour of the twenty-four to the master of the house--when, after the labors of the day, he could enjoy the peaceful quiet of his home. Master Reichenbach was a short, thick-set man, near fifty, and highly esteemed in Wittenberg for his calm judgment and honorable mind. His wife Elsa, a refined, energetic little woman, had doubtless been a great beauty in her youth; and even now it was a pleasure to look into her fresh, kindly face, to whose delicate features the inner beauty of the soul had given their final charm. The arrangement of the house bore evidence of great wealth; but the spacious halls were silent; no merry, childish voices disturbed the stillness. So much the more were husband and wife drawn to each other. "At last the Doctor has found a shelter for the remaining two of the escaped nuns," the syndic reported. "The Zeschau sisters?" asked Frau Elsa, with lively interest. "I thank God, for the dear Doctor's sake. I have pitied him from my heart. It is a mystery to me, how he will carry through all the business that rests upon him. Another had broken down long ago under the burden. His convent is like a dove-cote, where there is a continual coming and going. Who can count the letters he writes? And must he not, as from a high watch-tower, overlook all things, like a king of the spiritual world, taking note of the smallest, as well as of the weightiest matters? I am vexed with the people who trouble him with their small affairs, and waste his precious time. I was angry with the nuns at Nimptschen, when I heard that they had petitioned Dr. Martin; and when, not content with having been released from their prison, they came hither to trouble him further. I am comforted, now that his unceasing efforts have procured a shelter for them all--not only comforted, but glad and thankful, inasmuch as by these means, our dear Kate has become a member of our household."