And then a silence fell on all of us. To the Wittenbergers it seemed a time for sadness, even as to the disciples of Paul when they were “sorrowing most of all for the words which he spoke, that they should see his face no more.” The time was short for the needful preparation. Luther must present himself at Worms by the 16th of April. He could not set forth before the second. I did my part in making everything ready. The good burghers of the city of Wittenberg were glad to provide a covered wagon and stout horses. After a painful consultation Luther picked the three who should go with him,--Amsdorf, a young nobleman studying at Wittenberg, Peter Swaven, and also a humble but very loyal friar, John Petzensteiner. That I was to accompany need not be told,--at least they had no means of preventing me. Tearfully and reluctantly Melanchthon consented to stay. “For who can fill your place, my Philip?” spoke his master, “and if you live when I die, the cause of Christ will have lost but little.” All Wittenberg was in the streets, when on the morning of April 2, 1521, the man who had spread the name of the city from Muscovy to England was about to set forth. The professors of the university, the town notabilities, and certain friendly students, awaited in the convent garden as he came down from the upper chamber. His step was elastic, his eye calm and clear. Melanchthon went beside him and wrung his hand silently, every one drew back a little, and there was a hush as if expecting he would say something, nor were they disappointed. “They have torn in pieces my honor and my good name. I have lost all hopes of worldly greatness. Only my poor body is left. But as for my soul, they shall not have that. He who is resolved to bear the word of Christ to the world must expect death every hour. Therefore I am well prepared.” He took the brown cap from his head, and bowed right and left to the company. “Christ keep us all, good Christian neighbors and brothers of Wittenberg, and bring us safe to heaven. And now--farewell.” He entered the wagon. The others were already there before him. I mounted my palfrey, with a few retainers to bring up the rear. Before all rode Deutschland, his bright livery flashing, in his hand the streaming red, black, and gold banner, blazoned with the double eagle of the imperial Hapsburgs. The folk were in no mood for cheering. Silence held us staying or going, while we passed down the long Collegien-strasse, and even went by the gate where lay the mouldering ashes of the Papal Bull; then a bent old woman sprang from the crowd with a great wail. “They are taking away the dear Dr. Martin! Dr. Martin, who taught my lads to live honest, who saved my maids from shame! They will burn him! They will burn him! We shall never see him more!” Some one plucked her back roughly, all was too tense for gentle measures.