At first the market-place seemed a mere fair ground. Two husky peasants were wrestling in a ring; a juggler was showing a few poor tricks from the church steps; vendors of bright ribbons, little knives, and red cloth caps cried their wares; a swarm of thirsty folk were coming and going from the wine cellar under the Rathaus. Then of a sudden the great bell on high began its booming. The folk came thronging into the square from every alley, making the whole place a sea of heads with a narrow avenue up to the church door. Next the blowing of horns and the chanting of the _Te Deum_ by many voices; and in streamed the procession. The local priests in their whitest surplices led, next the dark-gowned monks of the local convent, while altar boys ran at either side swinging the smoking censers; then the gravely gowned magistrates of the town, after them a vast herd of laymen, members of various religious brotherhoods, bearing many gay banners. These were followed by a multitude of school children, rosy and clean, and dressed in their best, all singing a hymn in praise of the Blessed Virgin. Then a kind of trembling seized the crowd. Necks craned, hats came off, a great many fell upon their knees on the flagging. “Give heed, Christians,” a crier’s voice proclaimed. “The Reverend Master Tetzel and the warrant of His Holiness!” A young monk bore a great parchment on a purple velvet cushion,--the commission of the Pope to the indulgence vendor. A second monk bore a tall red cross whereon the papal arms were emblazoned; and then, walking alone, and turning from time to time to lift his hand unctuously to bestow benediction upon the awestruck multitude, came the Reverend Master Tetzel. The organ rumbled from the church, the procession streamed into it, and as many of the less orderly multitude followed as could find room. They were gone long enough to say a brief mass, and then, just as Ilsa was showing every sign of impatience, the Commissioner emerged again, and with similar pomp took his stand upon a small pulpit erected near the portal, with the red papal cross above him, and at his right,--significantly enough--a stout, iron-bound chest, secured by several padlocks. Beside the chest I saw a well-groomed merchant’s clerk whom I rightly suspected was the agent of the Fuggers, to make sure those worthy bankers received their share of the pious offerings.