The merchant listened attentively, and after a little more conversation, the chandler left the house.
On the following morning, a heavy, canvas-covered wagon rumbled along the road from Torgau to Grimma, and, on the evening of the same day, halted at the gates of the convent Marienthron at Nimptschen, about the time when the nuns were walking in the garden, after their evening meal.
Such an arrival from the busy world was an important event amid the monotony of convent life, especially when it was Master Leonhard Koppe from Torgau—the pleasant, talkative man, who brought an abundance of news, and related such merry tales. For strange to say, these brides of heaven greatly relished an earthly jest.
As usual, he was soon surrounded by the nuns, and amid much cheerful talk unpacked his wares. But his eyes seemed to be seeking some one; he was absent-minded, and failed to answer their questions. When at last Magdalene von Staupitz, coming in from the garden, approached the group, he grew taciturn, and gave them to understand he was not in the mood for conversation.
As Magdalene came nearer, a quick glance from the merchant's eyes met hers. She turned away, to hide the flush which rose to her face; and, returning to the garden, concealed herself behind an alder-bush near the entrance, from whence she could overlook the court.
After the nuns had dispersed, she again drew near, and sought to find in the merchant's face an explanation of his look. Hidden from the convent by his great wagon, he hastily gave her a letter, saying: "Read it. At the appointed time I shall be at hand."
He then climbed into the wagon, to prepare himself a resting place for the night, and the nun disappeared among the shadows.
* * * * * * * * * *
"What ails you, Sister Magdalene?" questioned the abbess, later in the evening. "Are you ill? Your face is pale, and the rosary trembles in your hands."
Magdalene cast down her eyes, and answered softly: "I feel as though a fever were shaking me. My prayers wearied me, and my head is dull and confused."