“Ah, Walter,” he replied, “you are right. And yet I will tell you--when I sit in my study among my books and think upon all the evils of the world, I am beside myself. How fortunate it is I am not God! If I were He, and had committed the government to my son, as He to His Son, and these vile people were as disobedient to him as they are now, I would knock the world in pieces. Therefore I would not renounce the Pope and all his minions whilst in some fine frenzy at my table, spitting out the fierce words with my ink. Not so. It is here--where all is peace, calm, sunlight, friendship, that I must do the deed. And no slight deed, I warrant.” We all watched his face. He seemed to care little for what we said, but much that we should see that he was perfectly calm and collected. “Dear friends,” his deep voice continued, “so far have I gone, but yet I can go back. Better men than Martin Luther have burned their books at a Papal summons, and sung their palinode. And I: who am I to set my weak wisdom against all the learned men, the sainted doctors and sages who have confirmed the power of Rome?” “Who are you?” cried I, while Melanchthon affectionately closed both his delicate hands around one of his master’s great ones. “You are a prophet and saint, beside whom Aquinas and Albertus Magnus are unworthy to breathe the same air. Your word is truth. You cannot fail, or God fails with you!” “Hear how the dear Graf Walter proves himself the adept courtier and flatterer, Philip,” responded Dr. Martin. “He would make me think I was a prince or a cardinal if he could. But he speaks in one thing the truth. Of late I have come to know how it was that the apostle wrote, ‘It is no more I that live, but Christ Jesus which liveth in me.’ Oh! blessed assurance, such as no Pope can give, with all his power from his high throne. For thanks to God’s word I am possessed by His Truth, and after that--what can man do unto me?” “Dr. Luther,” said Melanchthon slowly, “you know that it is yours to speak, it is ours to follow. Long since you have learned all that.” The Augustinian’s spare form grew straighter as he sat. His hands pressed hard upon his knees, but his voice was calm when he answered us.