"I am praying for my son. I am begging for money that I may buy masses for his soul. I am hungry and cold. I am alone in the world. All the world seems buried in grief. I pray. There is no other hope save in prayer!" she moaned, little thinking that it was her son who had brought upon a nation so much desolation, and who at the same time was about to be crowned by the revolutionists. As people passed, they dropped money into her hand, and some led her a little way to a seat where she could rest her weary body. She had become very old and trembling since that night when she had last seen her son. She had wandered from the old inn in search of him, and had never found him; and she had no sooner left the old home than Bertha, saved from Oberthal, had flown to the inn again, to throw herself into the strong arms of her lover. She had found the place closed, for Faith and John had gone, no one knew where.
After begging and praying in the public square, Faith found herself near a sick and almost helpless man, close to the palace toward which she had wandered. Many people were about. The Prophet was going to be crowned, so it was rumoured. Among others, Bertha had wandered near.
"Thou poor, helpless brother," said Faith. "Let me, out of my poverty, help thee a little." At the sound of that voice Bertha paused, turned, and nearly shrieked. She had wandered alone and hopeless; and there stood Faith, her lover's mother.
"Oh, dear mother!" she cried, and they threw themselves into each other's arms.
"Oh, mother! How I sought for thee!" she sobbed. "Since you were not to be found in Leyden, I turned myself toward Münster, hoping against hope to find you or John. Now take me to him. Let us go quickly!" she urged, but old Faith held back.
"My child, he is dead. I heard a voice declare to me that I should see him no more. It was an unseen voice. He is dead." Whereupon, both women fell to weeping in each other's arms.
"It has to do with these wicked men who have brought ruin upon Germany!—these Anabaptists!" Bertha cried. "Oh, John, if thou couldst rise from thy grave and help me now. Thy courage and goodness would raise up men to drive back these who do bad deeds in the name of God."
She cursed the famous Prophet, neither of them dreaming who he might be, and that desolation had come because the man whom they loved best had sought revenge for the wrongs done to them. With those curses in their hearts, the forlorn women wandered on with the crowd toward the cathedral where the Prophet was to be crowned.
Some of his suite had already gone into the church, but many were arriving in a grand procession. The appearance of the Prophet's guard aroused great indignation among the citizens, who were compelled to look on helplessly.
Then came the Prophet himself, garbed all in white, from head to foot, and a wonderful march was being played, while the spectacle grew each moment more and more magnificent.