He eyed me kindly but shrewdly. Both of us were anxious to speak of near, but tender, things, and it was hard to begin. So for a moment we bartered commonplaces. I complimented him upon the skill he had shown in the debate. He shrugged his shoulders in displeasure. “We had words, words, words. _Vox et praeterea nihil._ It has been a mere loss of time, this disputation, not an honest searching after truth. For two years’ time we have been examining these doctrines of Eck: we have counted all their bones. Now comes this fellow, and he has made more outcry in one hour than we in two years.” “Hardly that,” I returned, smiling. “I think you said somewhat concerning the Councils and the Hussites which all Germany will hear.” “_Liebe Gott_, yes! I saw Eck’s trap, and with both eyes open walked into it. That will indeed make a cawing and rattling among the rooks and daws. But it was Heaven’s will the truth should come out. As well now as a little later--it was God’s way.” “Cawing and rattling it will make, I promise you. I think the rattling will reëcho even in Rome. It will sound strange.” He glanced about the room in the sly manner of a child about to whisper some naughtiness, then plucked my arm and put his face against my ear. “Let me whisper it. The thing has been growing on me long. I have tried to resist. Now I am made certain.” “What is it?” I demanded. “The true name of the Pope is ‘Anti-Christ.’” “You will proclaim this?” for even I was startled. “When God wills. It must all come out in His time.” I admit, as he spoke, the vision of His Holiness’s sumptuous court; the pageants of the Vatican; the innumerable Monsignori, chamberlains, ushers, cardinals; the vision of the Vicar of Peter himself enthroned beneath the triple tiara, all came before me; and against them stood the dark-robed friar in the whitewashed room. What equality? But I was in no mood for debating then. I had come to this friar with a burdened soul. Here, if anywhere, I must find release. In a kind of desperation I darted out upon my task. “Doctor Martin, I am not come to talk of Eck, or Papal Powers, or of Indulgences. I am come to talk of that which is to me nearer, dearer; my own soul. I am as a man crushed under an intolerable weight. I have done that which was evil in the sight of man and God. I am full of earthly wisdom--it profits me nothing. I am rich, and nobly born. Of what avail? The meanest peasant upon my Regenstein lands can look up to heaven with better conscience than I. For he has been given little, and must repay little. And I have been given the best of the world--and how can I ever repay--” Here I know my tongue clove in my mouth, my eyes were wet. I felt a hand, firm and comforting, upon my shoulder. “Poor lad.” That was all; but it sent an answering thrill of warmth through all my veins. I started to fall on my knees. “Oh, Father, Father Martin. I have not confessed these many years to a priest, but now I confess to you. Hear me, hear--”