After that came adjournment and more whisperings, and I knew that Luther had neither lost a friend nor conciliated an enemy. Almost as I was passing out I heard the rumor that Charles had said “This man will never make a heretic of me.” But the multitude were otherwise minded. A great cheering throng followed us back to our lodgings, there were _vivats_ and _bravoes_, and once a shrill woman’s voice, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee!” Best of all, soon after our coming to the house of the Knights, the cortège of no less a person than the mighty Landgraf von Hessen himself halted before it, and youthful Prince Philip dismounted to wring my master’s hand, and to say in parting, “Dear Doctor, if you are in the right, so may the Lord God help you.” Then the darkness sent the crowds away, and even the officious Saxon councillors had the grace to refrain from thrusting in their presence. “Well,” complained one busy body, “your Wittenberg friar may be a mighty theologian, and well able to refute a whole Church Council, but has he no pity on us all? Must Diet and Emperor twirl their thumbs with curiosity whilst he makes up his mind?” “Be graciously patient, noble Geheimrat,” spoke I, bowing him toward the door; “you will be amply satisfied on the morrow.” “Heaven grant it,” he fumed, going out, and I turned back into the room where, very characteristically, my master was bent over the broad table, a candle at either elbow. He wrote rapidly, but soon threw down the sheet so that Amsdorf and myself could read the broad, sprawling hand. It was a letter to Guspianus, a literary friend in Vienna, in which he told briefly the events of the day, and then clearly written at the end stood out these words, “_But I shall not withdraw a single jot, Christ helping me_!” Amsdorf and I handed back the paper, having perused in silence. “Ei! my friends,” cried Luther, leaning back in his chair, and stretching his great broad arms above his head, “have you nothing to say, no warnings, no prudence, like all these other good folk?” Amsdorf looked at me, and seeing I was tongue-tied, answered:-- “Dear Doctor, we have long since committed you into God’s keeping. Wisdom and words we have not of our own.” Luther arose, and without speaking a syllable, embraced us both silently,--the hearty warm embrace of an elder brother. His face twitched a little. We knew that his hour was come. Silently we returned the clasp and took our leave, realizing that for him solitude was now the truest refreshment. As I passed out I could see his dark figure outlined against the candle-light, and already unconscious of our hearing he was repeating the words of Ezekiel of old. “Behold I the Lord have made thy face strong against their faces, and thy forehead strong against their foreheads; as an adamant harder than flint, have I made thy forehead. Fear them not, neither be dismayed.”