I was weary in mind and body. My brain refused to work clearly. The prison around me was still,--terribly still. My absolute loneliness added to the fearfulness of my predicament. I would have been glad of some veritable idiot with whom I might go through the form of taking counsel. The black wall before me was not more unscrutable than my future. Only two things could I forsee clearly. Luther was about to confront some terrible and unexpected danger, and I was removed, partly lest I prevent that danger. Again, the Cause was like to perish, and with the Cause went every hope I had so loftily vaunted to Moritz touching Ilsa. She would die a Quedlinburg nun! And I--was I to be held in Italy like a dumb sheep, till I consented again to lead the old heathen life as the lover of Marianna? But here my manhood uprose in hot revolt. I was in prison, but I had still hands, heart, head, and wits. Luther was in danger, but he was not yet dead. The Cause in peril, but not yet ruined. Wherefore had men praised my learning, physical address, prudence, and worldly wisdom if I could not use them for mighty ends? The crisis was on me. By some power I knew not, and by some voice I heard not, it was borne home to me that in the next few days would come the test of my entire life; that I was to be put in heaven’s crucible and tried, to see how much was dross, how much was gold; that I must calm myself; must speak no word lightly; do no deed rashly; and be ready for whatsoever sacrifice high Duty might demand. Then, and then only, come what might, I would redeem my soul. And whether after that I lived or died would matter very little. Remembering the example both of my master in Worms and my other Master in heaven, I cast myself beside the bed and prayed earnestly and long. “Lord,” I concluded, “human help is failing me. Human philosophies and wisdom profit me nothing. Send down from Heaven Thy strength that I may save Dr. Luther and the Cause. May I be true to myself, and to the trust which Ilsa has set in me. Grant only that--then do with me as Thou wilt.” When I rose to my knees a panel of moonlight from the tiny window threw itself across the flagged floor of the cell. “A fair omen!” I thought. Nor was I troubled because the conceit seemed pagan. CHAPTER XXXI THE OFFER OF CÆSAR