“I say unto you no words can describe the power and merit of these indulgences. Never before was such opportunity for sinful men. Yes! He who had been marvellously suffered to do foulest insult to the Holy Mother of God--pardon would be here for him!” And then he threw his eyes upward and made the market-place shake with his stentorian summons. “Lo! Heaven is opened! When will you enter if not now? Oh, senseless men, too hardened to appreciate such a bestowal of divine grace! How hard-hearted! If you will not think of yourselves, think at least of your parents, your father, your mother!” (Poor Ilsa’s head went down upon her hands. Moritz put his manly arm about her, while I discreetly looked upon Tetzel. The orator swept on to his turgid climax.) “Thus I have spoken. The hour of mercy passes. The hour of awful judgment will be at hand. At that last judgment I am free, you responsible; for I tell you that if you have but one garment, sell it; sell it--rather than fail to gain such a wondrous grace!” By this time men and women were down on the stones, moaning, beating their breasts, and crying out for all manner of mercy. Tetzel stepped deliberately from the pulpit; and a lieutenant of milder voice explained the practical details. There was a scale of prices for the indulgence based upon the rank of the purchaser and the enormity of his guilt. Wives were advised to get indulgences for their absent husbands, who need know nothing about them in advance. There were priests ready in the church to hear confessions, and as soon as these had been gone through (and very perfunctorily, I may add) and the money paid, the indulgence was granted; while of course for souls in purgatory only the money would be required. Soon a swarm as of bees was around the tables set now on the church steps, where several of the Commissioner’s clerks busily filled in the blank indulgence papers; and you could hear the steady chink, chink of good coin into the chest. Master Tetzel had known his audience. He was reaping an abundant harvest for his holy employers and the Fuggers. Half amused and half disgusted I turned away, when I saw Gräfin Ilsa rising. “My purse, brother,” she was saying; “I must go to the church.”