On this and the following day, deep silence reigned in the syndic's house. Husband and wife had little to say to one another, and overhead, in her little chamber, sat Katharine, lonely and sorrowful. Her heart seemed empty. Now that Jerome had gone away, she became aware of the warmth of her feeling for him. She resolved to take comfort in the affection of her friends, but this seemed an insufficient substitute; and she had a strong foreboding that Jerome would not return. Yet, when the hot tears would have burst from her eyes, she struggled with all her strength against her sorrow, lest the syndic and his wife might perceive that her love was shared by another, whose suit they disapproved. She felt it as a sin, that her benefactors should yield to a stranger, because, forsooth, he had approached her with friendly words and glances. "Be still, foolish heart," she said, "and see to it, if with redoubled love thou canst expiate thy wrong against these kind friends."
Shortly after, Fran Elsa received her husband one evening with a lively welcome: "Philip, our Kate is a brave girl! She has conquered her own heart, and is once more wholly ours!"
CHAPTER VII.
KATHARINE IN TROUBLE, AND DR. MARTIN IN STRIFE
WITH HIS FRIENDS.
More than a year had passed. The Autumn of 1524 had come, busily destroying whatever the summer had wrought. In the streets the wind played his pranks with the first fallen leaves. On the housetops the swallows held noisy counsel together, as to their flight to the sunny Southern land, whither the storks had already preceded them.
It was Sunday morning. Crowds streamed from the town church at Wittenberg, where Luther had preached. In eager groups they stood about the market-place; and noticeable among these was the syndic, Philip Reichenbach, engaged in lively conversation with a courtly looking man in a rich dress, whose handsome, intelligent face was of a rare, artistic type. A long beard fell down upon his breast. This was the court-painter and Senator, Lucas Kranach.
"I scarcely trusted my eyes," exclaimed the syndic, eagerly gesticulating, "when I saw Brother Martin appear in the priest's frock, instead of his monkish habit. My heart rejoices, for the ugly cowl no longer suited him. After he has inwardly put away the monk's life, why should he continue to wear its outward sign? The old gown, worn and threadbare as it is, has earned its rest. But it pleases me little that he continues in the monastery, when all the monks, save the Prior Eberhard Brisger, have gone away. It were better he broke with all monkish habits."
"It is well known, dear friend," said Kranach, "that Dr. Martin has small regard for outward appearances. He may have good reasons for continuing in the convent. It is said that the Elector intends to make him a gift of it."
The syndic opened his eyes. "What! and would he receive such a gift?"
"Why not?" asked the other. "It is an evidence of favor on the Elector's part."