“Good, then. I will explain. God has given me some slight gifts as a preacher and teacher to stir the hearts of men. Here in Wittenberg I have, week after week, given my message, ‘not fasts, not pilgrimages, not indulgences, but the pure heart, the humble mind, will buy the way to the kingdom of heaven.’ Nay more; zealous friends have thrust upon me the honors of the doctorate. And as doctor of theology I have sworn ever to expound and defend the truth. And now what has come to pass?” He struck his hands together with his increasing passion. “Tetzel! Fox, ass, chattering ape, mountebank! I leave God to judge his soul! Task enough it is to acquit mine own. But he has come to Jüterbog, as close as he might to this my own town and people. My Wittenbergers, whom I have chided for their sins, and urged to repentance, come home to me boasting their indulgence sheets and their self-righteousness. And I know, and you Sir Graf know, and Carlstadt knows, and all honest and learned men know it is vile deceit and fiends’ villainy. And yet you and Carlstadt still cry ‘peace, peace,’ when if I should hold my peace surely the very stones would cry out to shame my unfaithfulness.” Never in my life did I return to an argument with greater reluctance. Indeed, I own that I was mightily inclined to rejoin, “Go, then, in your sublime folly. Earn martyrdom, and some day even this world will bless you!” But I was more resolved than ever not to see an honest man ruined by his own virtues. “Learned Doctor,” answered I, “in eloquence I cannot match you. The nobility of your preaching I do not doubt. Yet even a righteous and rightful champion does not charge in the lists rashly. Tetzel is but a cloud in the ecclesiastical firmament. The wind will scatter him. Long after his indulgences have been tattered I trust you will preach to the good folk of Wittenberg, and lead them to your way of truth. But how will you preach to ‘your Wittenbergers’ when your case comes before the stern twelve judges of the Papal Rota, after you have gone to Rome for your trial? You may never see Wittenberg and Germany more. Even martyrdom comes best, when it comes amongst one’s own people.” Again he halted. I thought I detected the least hesitancy when he resumed his pacings. “Behind the Rota is the Pope,” he answered. “I have heard Leo is a very kindly man.”