“No, Ilsa,” I rejoined, “I would not have you, save to do you honor; and you may trust me. But trusting me, believe me in this: the thing we call the Church and all its power and teachings seem verily to be on the eve of a mighty change. What yesterday was accounted truth, passes for doubtful to-day; it will be rank error to-morrow. I have heard you read Dr. Luther’s books.” “Yes, yes.” “You have doubtless read how monastic vows are a denial of baptism, being an insult to God, as if, after He had received us into His Church to redeem us if we are worthy, we now try to bribe Him by an excess of good works?” “I have; but it is all strange. When fearful vows have been taken, by whom can they be remitted?” “By God, speaking to us in our hearts.” “How can I know it is He that speaks, and not the Fiend?” “I am but an ill theologian, Ilsa,” I said, laughing drearily. “I would you could speak with Dr. Luther. He is the most wonderful man in the world. The flash of his eye, the grip of his hand resolve all doubts. Well,--what shall I say further, for we cannot stand at this grille forever. Shall I bid Gunter give Trude more of Dr. Luther’s books to pass to you? Is it quite safe?” “The nuns are reading them,” she answered demurely, and then for the first time her old roguish twinkle lit her eye. “I will tell you. I have committed a fearful sin. Perhaps it will never be forgiven. Yet it does not make me miserable. Old Father Anton, the convent chaplain, mayhaps prompted by my aunt, asked me in confession ‘Have you read any books of Luther the Heretic?’ and I answered very boldly, ‘No.’ And so, I learn, answered many other of the younger nuns. Do you think we are making the angels very sad?” “Ah! Ilsa, Ilsa,” answered I, “the angels will gladly forgive you, and you are making one sinner very glad; for ’tis the first steps in such sweet heresies which lead to greater. Hear, then, what I, who love you more than life, declare. Standing upon this rock, with the blue sky of God above me, I say I will abide true to you till you come to me on this earth as my honored bride, or our souls greet up in heaven. I will not beset your path, I will put on you no shameful entreaty nor violence, but as Jacob served seven years for his bride, and they seemed to him but a few days, so will I serve the Cause for you. For the Cause of Luther, which is God’s, shall triumph, and that triumph shall make you free, and we shall ride into the Regenstein together, wife and husband.” As I spoke, the sound of the organ, and of women chanting, pealed from the interior of the convent. We heard the noontime hymn to the Virgin Mother. “Ave Maria, angelorum dea: Coeli rectrix, Virgo Maria! Ave maris stella, lucens miseris Deitatis cella, porta principis!” “This is the service before the refection,” said Ilsa. “I must go at once, or I shall be missed.” I knelt on the muddy flags by the grille and she laid her hand on my head.