She pushed it aside impatiently. Dead leaves drifted in a lazy circle around their feet. “Even in the convent,” she began, “we had heard about Dr. Luther’s ninety-five theses, though we were not supposed to. Copies circulated everywhere. The sisters, only a few of us at first, would gather in secret and read them aloud for those who could not read, and then debated the ideas. “Dr. Luther’s belief, we are saved by grace through faith alone, and not by works—it was revolutionary.” She smiled in wonder at the memory. “What I felt was like the Apostle Paul’s experience of being blinded, then suddenly able to see.” Wolf touched her temple, and she started. She realized he only intended to brush back the hair that would not stay confined in her scarf. With a ghost of a smile, he secured the strand back into its mooring. “Go on.” He gave her a gentle prompt. “So, did what you learn from Luther’s writings make you hate your confinement all the more?” “Y—yes.
