It was about noon, long after the frowning battlements, the red-roofed steep houses, and the vast, many towered minster of Worms, had been before our view, that the trumpeter above the gate blew boldly on his horn,--signal to all the crowded city that the man who had set all Germany by the ears had come to face his fate. Our little cavalcade rolled over the drawbridge and into the shadow of the gatehouse; Deutschland rode first, shaking out his great banner, then the wagon with Luther and his three comrades, lastly myself with some few friendly ritters who had galloped out from Worms to meet us. It was dinner time, but by some art magic the tall gabled houses poured out their thousands into the busy street. Honorable quarters had been reserved for us at the House of the Knights of St. John, where the residence of the Saxon Elector would be close at hand. So great was the multitude Deutschland must needs lay about him with his baton to win us a way. As I rode onward slowly, I could but tell myself that all the world had rushed together here for the Diet; save as we were privileged guests I doubt if we could ever have hired lodgings. The streets were full of blond Mecklinburgers and Pomeranians, dark Rhinelanders, dapper-dressed Frenchmen, olive-faced Spaniards, small Italians. Knights and clowns, peasants, burghers, and clerics were all elbowing indiscriminately to get their first glance of “_him_,” whether they called the newcomer saint or heresiarch. I saw an Italian valet hanging close at our heels, and I was not surprised later to learn that he was a servant of Aleander the Legate, sent to bring his master particular word of the aspect of “Mahomet.” Surely if Luther’s courage did not fail him, if he had a true word to say at Worms, he could speak it so loud here that he could be heard by all the earth! At the House of the Knights there did not lack a welcome from friends and an abundance of wordy counsel. Two of the Saxon Electors’ intimate advisers were lodged at the same place. A good dozen of us sat down to dinner together. There were a thousand things to say,--what the Emperor thought, what each Elector thought, what the delegates of the Free Cities thought, what the Pope’s legates demanded, what Franz von Sickengen had threatened, what would be the probable procedure to-morrow, etc., _ad infinitum_. And through it all I could see Dr. Martin smiling sweetly yet soberly, answering with a nod here, a brief word there, and keeping his own counsel. “Has he not determined? Is he resolved to retract?” muttered Von Thun the Counsellor in my ear half testily. “Surely he has not made all this journey without some fixed intention?” To which I could only answer, “He has never committed himself to me.”