Hans von Soldau drew his fingers through his flowing red beard, and related: "The Elector's court chaplain and private secretary, Spalatin, intends to be married on the 19th of November, and has invited Luther to his wedding. About two hours ago, I accidentally met the messenger bearing Luther's answer to Altenburg. Tell me, friends, does not everything shape itself to our advantage. Ha, Luther, your last bread will soon be baked!" A deep silence followed his words. Hans stared fiercely at the conspirators, and exclaimed: "Cowards! does your heart fail you! Then I shall venture alone." Joachim von Spergau, the most cautious of the band, replied in an injured tone: "Do not question our honor, Hans! It is not cowardise, if we hesitate for a moment, before we consent to a deed of blood." "It may possibly be accomplished without bloodshed," explained Hans, in a milder tone. "My confessor knows a place where the heretic need not die, and yet will be dead to the world. If it should become necessary to dispatch him, you must now solemnly declare, whether you will lend a hand. If you shrink from the sight of blood, then go your way, and I alone will have the glory of ridding the world of this pestilent fellow. If you are minded to stand by me, lift up your hands, and swear." It evidently cost the others a violent effort, to bind themselves by an oath to a probable murder; for this idea had not been entertained from the beginning. But the reproachful scorn, which flashed from Hans' eyes, drove them to a hasty resolve, and they took the oath. After the young squires had arranged the details of the attack, they paid their reckoning, and mounting their horses, disappeared in the darkness. * * * * * * * * * * "Why are you so sad, dear Kate?" Luther asked his wife one day; "have you any trouble of body or mind, that you are hiding from me?" Katharine sighed. "A heavy weight lies upon my heart, and I know not what it means. There are forebodings, which one cannot explain, and yet they will not be driven away." "And what is your foreboding?" asked Luther with a smile. "I fear that some great misfortune is awaiting us." Luther lifted his finger warningly: "You see ghosts where none exist. Do you not know, that such seeing is harmful--troubling our own heart, and also displeasing the Lord God? We should fear no evil, when God's angels are watching over us. Methinks your trouble is nothing more than the added burden of caring for the three noble nuns, who have sought refuge with us. Do not let this fret you, nor grudge to the poor fugitives the shelter of our house, until the anger of their people is appeased."