“Unwise? And does your Lordship tell me you approve of Tetzel’s blasphemies and filching from our miserable bewitched peasantry? God forbid!” “God forbid, say I likewise. I myself have told the rascal to his face all that I think of him. But, learned Sir, it is plain you do not understand what troubles I would spare you. If Tetzel’s were the only back to smart, I would full merrily cry ‘Lay on!’ But who is Tetzel? A pawn on the great Church chess board. In attacking him whom do you attack? His masters, Albrecht, Prince-Archbishop of Mainz, the great banking house of the Fuggers,--and last, but not least, His Holiness himself.” “The Archbishop and the Pope? The Graf is jesting. Heaven keep me from thinking so foully of them! Tetzel exceeded his mandate in his preaching. On hearing my complaints they will silence him.” “Tetzel exceeded his mandate? Yes. So I told him at Jüterbog. And I will tell you his answer. ‘My chest is exceeding heavy, and that is all the Archbishop of Mainz and the Pope are likely to ask about.’ And the artful fox is wholly right.” The Augustinian had sprung from his chair, and began pacing the room with quick, nervous strides. He twisted and untwisted his long powerful arms. “The Pope and the Archbishop? It cannot be! It cannot be! No little theses of mine can disturb such great men. Can a sparrow destroy an elephant? At worst they will merely ignore my charges, and let Tetzel weave his own rope to hang himself.” “I fear the learned Doctor is wrong,” I said; “allow me to play the prophet. If you publish those theses against Tetzel, in six months your name will be blazoned all over Christendom as little better than a heretic.” I thought I saw the friar’s face turn pale, but he only paused, crossed himself hurriedly, and muttered “Impossible.” “By no means impossible. It is because, even in these brief moments, I come to take an interest in your Reverence’s honor and welfare which I cannot explain even to myself, I urge this again. Believe me, I know Italy and I know Rome. I am no fox-hunting northern ritter, better at brawling than at books. I have learned my Latin at Florence, my Greek at Padua. Hardly six months since I sat at cards with His Holiness. I speak with knowledge. Delve in philosophy and abstract theology as you will. The Pope is tolerant. He permits any subtle message to the learned. But these theses here will speak like booming cannon to the myriad laity. They will dry up one of the richest sources of Roman revenue. As you love a venerable name, honor, churchly promotion, do not touch the Pope’s, or the Pope’s lieutenant’s, money bags.” “A question?” the other stood straight before me and held me fixed by the power of his wonderful eyes. “I will answer,” I replied uneasily. “Tell me, then, Graf von Regenstein: do you urge me to suppress these theses because what I say in them is untrue, or because what I say in them is unwise?” “Unwise, utterly unwise.”