Katharine held out the baby, Gretchen, and said with a smile: "This one needs love more than any,—and yet you do not mention her, dear Doctor."
Luther took the child in his arms and caressed it, saying: "There is a great sacredness about a little child, of whom the Scriptures say: 'Their angels do always behold the face of my Father who is in heaven.' I would give all the honor I have had, and shall have in this world, had I died at the age of this child. A child's life is the happiest: it has no temporal cares, knows nothing of the disturbers of the Church, has no fear of death or hell, but only pure and happy fancies. My dear little child, thou and all who are dear to me are hated of the Pope, Duke George, the Devil and all their friends. But the child is not disturbed, fears nothing, and laughs at their anger."
The Evening had come, and Katharine began to prepare for their return to town, the physician having strictly forbidden Luther to remain in the open air after nightfall. He seemed little inclined to exchange the fresh, pure air for the closeness of the narrow streets, but found himself unable to resist his wife's pleading. With a smile he submitted, saying: "Kate, you persuade me to do your will in all things!"
CHAPTER XIX.
RISEN FROM THE DEAD.
The earth was already thickly covered with snow, yet the heavy, white flakes were still falling. The frost-flowers upon the windows hid the outside world from those within, and the footsteps in the streets sounded as though the ground were strewn with broken glass. Whoever could, stayed within doors.
Katharine was packing her husband's travelling trunk. He was about to undertake a journey. But it was not the thought of the distance, and of her own loneliness, that filled her eyes with tears, and her heart with anxious forebodings. He was ill, and she dreaded the effects of this wintry journey upon his enfeebled body. She would have pleaded with him to remain at home, had not the Elector so urgently desired his presence at Smalcald, where, before the assembled Protestant princes and representatives, he was desired to read the articles he had prepared for submission to the General Church Council, to be held at Mantua.
It was on the first day of February, 1537, when Luther, wrapped in warm furs, and seated in the carriage sent him by the Elector John Frederick, passed out of the Elster gate. Not only Katharine, but many a citizen of Wittenberg looked anxiously after the traveller, secretly reproaching the Elector for asking of the sick man a sacrifice, which might plunge the whole Protestant world into sorrow and confusion.
The days crept slowly by to Katharine. Many letters came to the house of the spiritual leader of Protestantism; yet there was none in the well-known, rugged handwriting, although Luther had promised to send her tidings as soon as possible, especially if any harm should befall him. Week after week glided by; her fears were slowly stilled, and she began to thank God for this new grace.
On the 2d of March, a messenger rode into the court, bringing a letter from the Doctor. Fear seized upon Katharine, and her trembling fingers were scarcely able to open the packet. Yes, there it was written, in terribly plain characters, that her forebodings had not deceived her. The letter was dated from Gotha, the 2 7th of February, and ran as follows: