CHAPTER XVI.

GOD'S INN.

While Katharine was refolding the letters and tying them with a scarlet ribbon, her niece Elsa Kaufman[1] came into the room, and announced that a stranger, who gave his name as Urbanus Rhegius, desired to speak with Mistress Luther, having come directly from Coburg.

Katharine hurried into the court. There, under the great pear-tree, the Doctor's favorite resting place, sat a distinguished looking man, who at her approach, rose, and with great politeness advanced to meet her.

"God's greeting to you, dear Mistress Luther," he began, his foreign accent reminding her somewhat of the dialect spoken by Baumgaertner. "I regard it as a special piece of good fortune, to become acquainted with the wife of the great man, whom I met lately for the first time; and to be permitted to bring you his greetings, as I am passing through Wittenberg."

"How fares my dear lord?" asked Katharine, a blush of pleased anticipation mantling her cheeks.

"He is well and of good courage. In his great goodness and condescension he gave me a whole day of his precious time. And truly, I never experienced a happier day; for Dr. Luther is a powerful theologian. I always esteemed him greatly, but now I hold him higher than ever before, having myself seen and heard what neither pen nor words can describe. His books betoken his great mind, but when one hears him speak, with the spirit of an Apostle, on divine matters, he must needs confess: Luther is too great for wiseacres to pass judgment upon him. He is, and remains the greatest theologian in the world."

In her happy confusion, Katharine found no words to answer him. As his eyes wandered over the place, he said: "Here, then, is the spot where he dwells,--'God's Inn,' where all that are persecuted for the Gospel's sake, find shelter. Tell me, dear Mistress Luther, how can you, with your small means, feed and clothe so many? I scarcely believed my ears, when the Reverend Doctor told me, that his entire income was two hundred florins."

With a smile, Katharine pointed to the stables and barn-yard. "Do you hear those sounds, dear sir? When the larder is empty, the stable and the garden must replenish it. Yet even this would not suffice, were it not for the generous kindness of good people. Especially is the hand of our gracious Elector ever open toward us. But the Doctor is of a peculiar nature; he refuses all help,--fearing that God would reward him with temporal goods, while he strives only for heavenly treasures. Knowing my husband to be thus reluctant, they bring their gifts to me, and I do not hesitate to receive with pleasure and gratitude what is offered in love, and is sorely needed for our poor. For although I am careful, I have not been able to prevent the Doctor from incurring some debts, through aiding his friends."

Rhegius listened with eager attention, and pointing to the large side wing, he asked: "And is your whole house full, Mistress Luther?"

"Yes. A long row of boarders sit at my table. A few are able to pay me for what they receive, but the larger number have nothing else to give, than a "thank you." And I am well content, for thus far we have not suffered want, and I would rather serve them all without a reward, if it were possible."

"Are you going to build, Mistress Luther? I see in yonder corner a pile of bricks and tiles."

"Our house is large and roomy enough, dear sir, but old and ruinous. The Doctor consented to accept the building material, which the Town Council sent him in recognition of his services during the time of the plague."

With growing surprise and pleasure the stranger's eyes rested upon Mistress Katharine, who, changing the conversation, said to him: "Your speech has a foreign sound, dear sir. Where is your home, if I may ask?"

"I am a Suabian by birth," returned Rhegius, "and a theologian by profession,--but only a small one, not worthy to unloose the latchet of Dr. Martin's shoes,--yet desirous of laboring with all my strength in the vineyard of the Lord."

"Please be seated, dear Master Rhegius," urged Katharine, "I will call some of our young men, that they may hear your report of the Doctor; and I will prepare you some refreshment."

Katharine hurried across the court and entered the wing, whence she soon returned with the brothers Peter and Jerome Weller, little Hans' schoolmasters. While they joined the stranger, plying him with many eager questions, Katharine brought a bottle of home-brewed beer from the cellar, and went to the kitchen, to prepare the traveller's repast.

Before she had finished, Elsa announced a new arrival. "Dear Mistress Luther, a woman stands without. She has the look of a queen, and yet one could weep to see her sorrowful face. She asked me if the doctor had returned, and seemed much distressed when I told her he was still absent. Then she questioned me, whether Mistress Luther had a merciful heart, and begged to see you."

Katharine felt uneasy. Charging Elsa with the stranger's meal, she went to the great hall. Pausing at the door, she saw before her a woman of a tall, majestic figure, whose appearance affected her strangely. An expression of blended dignity and gentleness rested upon her face, veiled with a look of unspeakable sadness. As if in expectation of a greeting or a question, her soft, pleading eyes sought Katharine's face, until, like Elsa, she felt her own filling with tears.

"Who are you, dear lady?" asked Katharine, holding out her hand in welcome.

The stranger answered wearily: "My husband sits upon a throne, and wears an Elector's crown; but I have not where to lay my head."

Katharine started: "Merciful God! You are the unhappy wife of the Elector of Brandenburg!"

"Does my presence alarm you?" she asked, with the suspicious sensitiveness peculiar to the unfortunate. "Then I will go,--although it is with a heavy heart I relinquish the hope of finding peace under the great reformer's roof. For the Gospel's sake my lord's anger pursues me; and because I venerate Dr. Martin's doctrine as being the Word of God, the Elector has threatened to immure me."

Katharine's heart beat high, and she would have folded the unfortunate woman in her arms, but the inborn reverence for the wife of a crowned head restrained her. She grasped the hand of the princess, saying warmly: "This house is open to all who are weary and heavy laden, but especially to those who suffer for the Gospel's sake."

A gleam of joy brightened the unhappy woman's face, and with difficulty restraining her tears, she answered: "May He bless you for those words, who said: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.'"

Katharine, after taking a hasty leave of Master Rhegius, led her guest to a quiet room, overlooking the garden. The noble lady's gracious bearing soon overcame Katharine's timidity, and they conversed together as old friends.

Katharine then learned the truth of the story which rumor had spread abroad, and mingled with many falsehoods. The Electress had incurred the anger of her papist husband by her adherence to the evangelical faith, and especially by a secret celebration of the Lord's Supper in both kinds, which was betrayed to him, and roused in him a fury of passion. He swore in his anger, that neither sun nor moon should again shine upon the heretic. To save her husband from committing a crime, she fled to Torgau, seeking refuge with the Elector of Saxony. He assigned to her the castle of Lichtenburg on the Elbe, and she accepted his kindness with gratitude. But in time the isolation and the lack of all spiritual nourishment caused her inner life to wither and pine. She had therefore come secretly to Wittenberg, to be near the fountain of living water, where her soul might find strength and repose.

Katharine expressed her regret at her husband's absence, and begged the Electress to content herself in her company, until the Doctor's return.

Deeply moved, the princess fell upon Katharine's neck, and this silent embrace was the beginning of a warm and lasting friendship. Two hearts were brought near to each other, which, however different their outward circumstances, yet were one in their aspirations after the one thing needful. Katharine soon discovered that fame had not exaggerated the gentleness, nobility and piety of the Electress of Brandenburg; while the latter found herself irresistibly attracted by the strong, upright, loving nature, by the childlike simplicity and tender heart of Mistress Luther. With unconcealed pleasure she watched Katharine, as with energetic discipline, with a clear eye and a firm hand she guided and ruled her extensive establishment. She was fond of helping here and there, and especially glad to occupy herself with the children. Good Aunt Lena stepped into the background without a murmur, and felt no pang of jealousy, when the thankless Hans in his admiration of the new "Aunt Elizabeth" could at times forget all the love and care that had been lavished upon him.

Katharine's feeling of loneliness was banished. As she devoted her spare moments to the sorely tried woman, she felt as though a higher duty were ennobling the common-place routine of her daily life; and her contentment grew, as she perceived that the patient sufferer found in her house the rest she sought, and was able to look forward to the dawning of a brighter day.

Then a letter arrived from Luther to his "dear Kate," announcing his return, and promising to bring to his son Hans a fine, large book of pure sugar, which Cousin Cyriac had brought from the garden, of which he had written.

[1] She was the orphan daughter of Luther's sister, whom, with her brother Cyriac and her sister Lena, Luther had taken into his family.