m, when he entered, of
the plot to give him over to the Emperor, while the coronation feast
was in progress.

"Very well. I am satisfied. Do thou take my mother to a place of
safety. I shall be at the feast," he said significantly. Embracing
his mother, he handed her into the care of the astonished guard, and
left the dungeon.

Nothing could have been more magnificent than the banquet prepared for
the coronation. The tables were loaded with golden dishes, and young
women passed, scattering flowers, while pages in gay dress ran hither
and thither. There, John entered, and sat apart, as had been arranged.
He was pale and sad. All was gaiety about him, but he had prepared an
awful fate for his betrayers. In the vaults of the palace were stored
powder and firearms of all sorts. Just above those vaults was the
banqueting room, which had great iron gates closed at one end. The
company could only leave the room by those gates. John of Leyden had
brought two officers whom he could trust into the hall with him, and
unheard, he commanded them to close and lock the gates as soon as the
Anabaptists Zacharia, Mathison, and Jonas, with Oberthal, the great
power of Muenster and the Bishops--all who were his enemies and to whom
the Anabaptists meant to betray him--were assembled.

Then the feast began. All hailed the Prophet in loud voices,
pretending great affection and faith in him. In the midst of a dance
by which the guests were entertained, Faith, whom he thought quite
safe, entered. She knew what he had done--that he meant to blow up the
palace by firing the vaults below, and she had determined to die with
her son. The Prophet had not yet seen her.

The Anabaptists and John's enemies spoke apart, and John watched them
cynically. He knew well what they intended, and that he had them
trapped.

"Now close the gates," he said in a low voice to his officers. "Lock
them." He had not seen his mother. When the gates were closed, he
turned smilingly to the company. He called for wine.

"Let us drink!" he cried. Then Oberthal rose and shouted:

"Thou art mine, great Prophet! Surrender thyself." Still the Prophet
smiled at them. Jonas then cried:

"Yes, thou tyrant--thou art betrayed. We have thee fast! Surrender!"

"Oh, ye poor creatures," he answered. "Listen! do ye hear nothing?"
Still smiling upon them, as they stared at him, they heard a strange
rumbling below. The train he had laid to blow up the palace had fired
the powde