I kept one of my retainers on watch in the garden until dawn, but his presence was useless. Amsdorf and I returned to our chambers. Dr Luther’s light was still burning, but we heard nothing from him and did not disturb his meditations. With my mail shirt still about me and my weapons beside me I cast myself upon a hard oaken bench and caught a few hours sleep. In a troubled dream I thought myself a crusader toiling over the sand deserts of Palestine, a scanty company behind me, a clamorous host of the Infidel before. My lance was in rest. I was riding to the charge wholly conscious that in one brief moment of the delirium of battle my life would be snuffed out. Yet I was glad, rapturously glad. My blood was tingling, my senses alert. From my lance whipped the Regenstein banner. To my lips came the name of my lady, whose gage I would bear worthily to this last battle. “Ilsa!” I cried; “for God, the Cause, and Ilsa!” My own voice awoke me. The sun was streaming in at the diamond-paned windows. In the streets the noisy folk were passing. I rose and pressed my head. “The day!” I repeated aloud. “O holy Heaven, I thank Thee I am permitted to live through this day.” FOOTNOTES: [12] The verbal accuracy of the prayer here quoted is vouched for by first-class tradition.--EDITOR. CHAPTER XXIX THE WITNESS BEFORE CÆSAR It was April 18, 1521 A.D., the day looked forward to by millions throughout broad Germany. Would the friar, the peasant’s son, recant before the princes, bishops, and Emperor, or would he stand fast? Worms was divided into two hostile camps. Men almost came to blows on the street corners. “He will retract.” “He will not.” I found even the horseboys arguing it, when I made a chance visit to our stables.