She threw herself upon Katharine's neck and wept aloud. Katharine loosened the clinging arms, and wringing her hands in distress, she exclaimed: "Woe is me! What have I done! Oh, that I had kept silence, and borne my sorrow alone!" Elizabeth dried her tears, and said, with a gentle caress: "Do not grieve, dear Katharine. It is indeed painful to have one's eyes opened by force. But is it not better to know the truth, than to continue in error?" After a long and scrutinizing look into her friend's face, Katharine suddenly leaned forward, so that her lips touched Elizabeth's ear. "Elizabeth, you do not know all my trouble." The young nun's eyes anxiously questioned hers. She continued: "You will not betray me. Elizabeth? I have a secret,--I and seven others." "Trust me," said Elizabeth. Katharine drew still nearer and whispered: "Do you know what has happened at Grimma?" Elizabeth nodded. "How should I not know? The Gospel has been preached there openly, since Luther proclaimed the truth from the pulpit of the town church." "It is not that I mean," Katharine shook her head. "We have received tidings, that in the past week the monastery of the Holy Cross was deserted by its monks." Elizabeth started. "What do you say? It is not possible!" Katharine continued quietly: "These are wonderful times. All signs point to the beginning of a new life. Not at Grimma only, but elsewhere also, the cloisters have opened their gates, after Luther had uttered his Hephatha. Sister Elizabeth,--if our gates were opened,--would you go, or stay?" A deep crimson dyed Elizabeth's face, and a shiver ran through her body. "Sister, I believe I should go. But," she added drearily, "who will open them? You know how bitterly the abbess hates Luther, and how she rails against him." A shadow fell upon Katharine's face, and a heavy sigh rose from her breast. "That is my sorrow also. But perhaps the abbess may be forced to yield, whether she will or not." "I do not understand you," said Elizabeth, in alarm. Again Katharine leaned over and whispered:--"Eight of the Sisters have entered upon a secret compact. They have written letters to their parents and kinsfolk, imploring them, for God's sake, to pity their condition, and release them from their imprisonment. They say that since they have learned, monastic vows to be opposed to the teachings of Holy Scripture, they should imperil their souls, by continuing to strive after an imaginary sanctity." Elizabeth's eyes were opened wide. She clutched Katharine's arm and asked eagerly: "Who are they,--these eight?" Katharine answered: "They are Magdalene von Staupitz, Veronica and Margaret von Zeschau, Laneta von Gohlis, Eva von Gross, Eva and Margaret von Schoenfeld,--I am the eighth." "Let me be the ninth," pleaded Elizabeth. "If you go, I cannot stay."