By this time there was a rush of feet in the passage, and a confused shouting. A good dozen were without the door, and while it was relatively solid and fitted with a heavy bolt, it was not proof against well-used axes. I shook my right hand clear. The sense of freedom sent the blood springing through my veins. Again I was myself, my own master, and on my powers that day hung not my own life only, but the life of Luther, and the hope and honor of the woman I loved. Should I be caught here again like a caged rat, to be drowned at the bidding of my captors? Not so! All my trust in God, all the blood of the Regenstein ritters of old cried out against it. With liberty so nigh, I could not dare to fail! “Andrea,” I spoke, seizing the partisan he had so opportunely brought us. “We must play fox and lion alike. You are the first. I will be the second. Let us at least make our guests outside to hesitate. Ten minutes may be worth ten thousand ducats.” Then I raised my voice, “Ho! you without there. If there is any honest German present not in foreign hire let him talk to me. I can prove readily enough that I am not crazed. This Vicomte de Barras is no French cavalier. He is of the spawn of Rome, a Pope’s legate, and he has ridden off to seize Dr. Luther. You who love Dr. Luther stand back, and do not damn your souls by helping his arch enemies.” Whatever else my words accomplished they at least produced a momentary lull in the beating upon the door. There was a jangle of voices. I continued my admonishings, well knowing the prejudices of the average German burgher folk against all Latins, crying out that I was a Harzland nobleman carried off by the crows of Italy, and promising great reward to whosoever would aid procuring my liberty and saving Dr. Luther. “Do not heed his ravings,” I heard a woman’s voice urging in very broken German; “he is beside himself. Down with the door!” The attack, however held back. I could hear angry arguments and counter arguments. The hint about Luther had been enough to rob Marianna’s commands of half their force. It was no light thing in Marburg to be called the foe of the hero of Germany. After a space a familiar voice spoke in Italian against the keyhole. “Gualtiero.” “I hear you.” “Admit me.” “Alone?” “Yes. I would reason with you ere all is too late.” “Very well,” I assented. Then I sent my voice out loudly, “The lady is permitted to enter. The man who strives to thrust after her dies instantly.” I took station by the door so that any forbidden intruder might feel the full weight of my partisan. Andrea opened a little. Marianna entered. For the first time she and Ilsa were face to face.