and it no longer. Hastily thanking
the honest citizen for the "goodly show" he had permitted him to
witness, he slipped down into the street, and pushed his way
through the throng anywhere, out of sight of the odious pageant of
intolerance and bigotry which he had been witnessing.

"Had it been Luther's books only, I could have stood it. He is a
man, and though a champion for truth, he may err, he does err. And
he speaks wild words which he contradicts himself. But the Word of
God! Oh, that is too much! To take it out of the hands of the poor
and needy, who hunger to be fed, and to cast it to be burnt like
the dung of the earth! Surely God will look down! Surely He will
punish! Oh, if I had wanted argument and reason for the step I will
take in the future, yonder spectacle would have been enough!"

For many hours he wandered through the streets and lanes of the
city, so intent on his own thoughts that he scarce noted the
buildings and fine sights he passed by. But his feet brought him
back to the spot of the morning's pageant, and towards evening he
found himself looking upon the ashes of what had been the books
brought with so much risk by the Hanse merchants and the Stillyard
men, and so eagerly desired by the poorer people of the city.

All the platforms had been removed. The crucifix no longer
glittered overhead, the doors of the cathedral were shut, and none
of the pomp of the morning could be seen here now. But several
humble persons were raking amid the ashes where the books had been
burnt, as though to see whether some poor fragments might not have
been left unconsumed; and when they failed to find even this--for
others had been before them, and the task of burning had probably
been well accomplished--they would put a handful of ashes into some
small receptacle, and slip it cautiously into pocket or pouch.

One man, seeing Dalaber's gaze fixed upon him, went up to him
almost defiantly and said:

"Are you spying upon us poor citizens, to whom is denied aught but
the ashes of the bread of life?"

Dalaber looked him full in the face, and spoke the words he had
heard from Clarke's lips the previous evening:

"Crede et manducasti."

Instantly the man's face changed. A light sprang into his eyes. He
looked round him cautiously, and said in a whisper:

"You are one of us!"

There was scarce a moment's pause before Dalaber replied:

"I am one of you--in heart and purpose, at least, if not in actual
fact."