So we left the glade with its triumph and tragedy. Humfried guided us by secret ways, up and down paths among the black beech stumps, until my own senses were mystified as to our route, only I saw by the sun that we were working steadily northward. Often we traced the edge of low precipices where unsteady horses would have fallen, and I would clutch Ilsa to my bosom fast; but little by little we came again out of the enshadowing greenwood, until at last down a wide natural avenue in the trees we beheld a wide patch of blue sky, and rising against it a lordly hill crowned by a lordlier citadel. “The Kaiser Schloss,” announced Humfried, pointing; “the Wartburg.” “And here,” added Moritz, “my good kinsman the Castellan for the Elector of Saxony will give Dr. Luther safe refuge until the present storms are passed.” We galloped down the slope, and again by leaf-hidden ways ascended the steep, till the shadow of the great square tower of the Schloss was cast far over us. Then armed sentries challenged, the portcullis rose with chains loud rattling, and I saw the stalwart form of the commandant striding down to the gate house from the keep. Of a sudden I knew that I also was utterly spent and fainting, almost as was Ilsa. I was painfully wounded. I had slept little for many nights, I had been stretched for as many days on the rack of mental and spiritual agony. Dimness swam before my eyes. “Saved!” I urged upon myself, “saved! what folly to fail now.” I remember giving Ilsa into the hands of her aunt, and away they took her amid a great flurry of women. Von Steinitz and his officers were standing by and pelting us with questions. Then even as I strove to dismount a wide black void seemed to spring up to enfold me. I was not conscious for many days. CHAPTER XXXV THE BRIDE OF WARTBURG “‘For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.’” So sounded the voice of Dr. Luther at my bedside, the first day I had strength and consciousness to see him. I marvelled at his dress. He had thrown off the monkish cowl, and wore a tight-fitting brown doublet and hose, the true garb of a knight. At his belt was a small dagger. On his cheeks was a ten days’ growth of beard. “Ah, dear Doctor,” said I, “how do I behold you? You will soon pass for a very lanz-necht.”