“That is very sad, but God will protect you, my children,” he observed, placing his pack, as he had before done, in a corner of the room. “We must try and obtain his liberation. The people of Germany will no longer submit to persecution. However, I trust that, by some means, your grandfather’s liberation may be obtained.”
Meta and Karl warmly thanked their friend, and begged him to partake of their humble fare. This he did, seeing that there was abundance. Suddenly he exclaimed, “I have thought of a plan. I will endeavour to gain admittance to your grandfather, and if so, I trust the means may be given him to escape from the prison.” As it was somewhat late, the book-hawker gladly availed himself of the shelter of the hut for the night, while he amply repaid his young hosts by reading and expounding the Scriptures to them, greatly to their satisfaction.
Chapter Six.
The old woodcutter sat in his cell, his spirits yet unbroken, and resolved, as at first, to adhere to the faith. Still, accustomed as he had been to a life in the open air, his spirits occasionally flagged and his health somewhat suffered. Often and often he thought to himself, as he examined the walls of his prison, “If I had an iron tool of some sort, I doubt if these walls would long contain me.” But everything he had possessed had been taken from him when he was first brought to prison, and not even a nail could he find with which to work as he proposed. He was seated on his heap of straw, and the gaoler entered with his usual fare of brown bread and water.
“I have a message for you, old man,” said the gaoler, who, though rough in appearance, spoke sometimes in a kind tone. “A holy monk wishes to see you, and bade me tell you so.”
“I have no desire to see a monk,” answered Moretz. “He cannot make me change my faith, and it would be time lost were he to come to me.”
“But he brings you a message from your grandchildren,” said the gaoler. “He bade me say that if you refused to see him—”
Moretz thought an instant. “Let him come then,” he answered.