Two hours later they reached Torgau. Lodgings had been taken for them in a house near the convent church. The landlord, Kasper Grünewald by name, and a worthy man, had been a friend of Luther's. As the Saviour said of Mary Magdalene, it might be said of him: He hath done what he could. It seemed like paying a debt of love to his departed friend, when he could shelter the widow in his house; and he vied with her children in giving her the tenderest care.
Katharine was at once put to bed;—the fright and the chill had made her very weak, and brought on a high fever.
The physician who was called in, shook his head, and did all that his skill suggested, to revive the sinking forces. It seemed as though all were concerned in repairing the world's neglect of the widow of the great man.
She appreciated their efforts. Her lips overflowed with gratitude, and when her growing weakness deprived her of the power of speech, her eyes and the mute pressure of her hand conveyed her thanks.
The loveliest roses bloomed upon her cheeks; and her skin was lily-white and transparently pure. She did not seem ill, and never in her life had she been fairer. A strange light shone in her eyes, and her manner was so gentle and tender, that those who entered her presence, seemed to feel a breath from the other world. Her thoughts were in Heaven, more than upon the earth. She often spoke of her husband, not only in her waking moments, but also in her dreams; and sometimes she spoke to him, as though he were actually present.
Winter came, with its snow-flakes and its ice-flowers, with its long nights, and the holy calm of the Advent Season. "Come, Thou Saviour of the Gentiles,"—they sang in the churches; and in the street, under the sick woman's window, the choir-boys repeated the sacred strains.
She listened to the sweet, joyous tones; her cheeks flushed, her eyes glowed, and she softly sang, "Come, Thou Saviour of the Gentiles." Then she folded her hands, and inspired with sudden strength, she prayed: "Lord, my Saviour, Thou standest at the door, and wouldst enter in. O come, Thou beloved guest, whom my soul awaits with longing. For I desire to depart and to be with Thee. Grant me a peaceful end, and a blessed departure from this valley of tears. Let my poor children be committed to Thy mercy,—that none of them be lost, but that all may one day appear before Thy throne, and unite with us in praising Thy glorious Name. And, Lord, look down in mercy upon Thy Church, which the pope and other ungodly men would fain rend in pieces, extinguishing the light of the Gospel truth which, by Thy servant, the blessed Dr. Martin, Thou didst kindle in our German land. Have mercy upon all, who for the Gospel's sake suffer shame and persecution, and give them strength, boldly to confess their faith, that Thy Name may through them be glorified. I give Thee thanks, that Thou didst regard the misery of our beloved Elector, and didst turn his captivity, that men may see how Thou dost bring to honor those who have suffered for Thy Name's sake. Grant him a calm and peaceful old age, and finally take him home to Thee. Dear Lord, I thank Thee for all the trials, through which Thou didst lead me, and by which Thou didst prepare me to behold Thy Glory. Thou hast never forsaken nor forgotten me; Thou hast evermore caused Thy face to shine upon me, when I called upon Thee. Behold, now I grasp Thy hand and say, as Jacob of old: Lord, I will not let Thee go, unless Thou bless me! I will cling to my Lord Jesus forevermore. Amen. Help me, dear Lord God. Amen."
She had spoken in a low tone, pausing frequently. Now she lay exhausted. Her hands were clasped; her eyes turned upward, as though she were watching for the coming of the Lord.
Those around her prayed softly.
The hours passed; night came. They lighted the lamp, and kindled a fresh fire in the stove, for it was a bitter cold day, the 20th of December, in the year 1552.