stful tenderness, forgot for a
while--that he was a great man!

Chapter 10.VIII. The Threshold of the Event.

The next morning the Senator of Rome held high Court in the Capitol.
From Florence, from Padua, from Pisa, even from Milan, (the dominion of
the Visconti,) from Genoa, from Naples,--came Ambassadors to welcome his
return, or to thank him for having freed Italy from the freebooter De
Montreal. Venice alone, who held in her pay the Grand Company, stood
aloof. Never had Rienzi seemed more prosperous and more powerful, and
never had he exhibited a more easy and cheerful majesty of demeanour.

Scarce was the audience over, when a messenger arrived from Palestrina.
The town had surrendered, the Colonna had departed, and the standard
of the Senator waved from the walls of the last hold of the rebellious
Barons. Rome might now at length consider herself free, and not a foe
seemed left to menace the repose of Rienzi.

The Court dissolved. The Senator, elated and joyous, repaired
towards his private apartments, previous to the banquet given to the
Ambassadors. Villani met him with his wonted sombre aspect.

"No sadness today, my Angelo," said the Senator, gaily; "Palestrina is
ours!"

"I am glad to hear such news, and to see my Lord of so fair a mien,"
answered Angelo. "Does he not now desire life?"

"Till Roman virtue revives, perhaps--yes! But thus are we fools of
Fortune;--today glad--tomorrow dejected!"

"Tomorrow," repeated Villani, mechanically: "Ay--tomorrow perhaps
dejected."

"Thou playest with my words, boy," said Rienzi, half angrily, as he
turned away.

But Villani heeded not the displeasure of his Lord.

The banquet was thronged and brilliant; and Rienzi that day, without an
effort, played the courteous host.

Milanese, Paduan, Pisan, Neapolitan, vied with each other in
attracting the smiles of the potent Senator. Prodigal were their
compliments--lavish their promises of support. No monarch in Italy
seemed more securely throned.

The banquet was over (as usual on state occasions) at an early hour;
and Rienzi, somewhat heated with wine, strolled forth alone from the
Capitol. Bending his solitary steps towards the Palatine, he saw the
pale and veil-like mists that succeed the sunset, gather over the wild
grass which waves above the Palace of the Caesars. On a mound of ruins
(column and arch overthrown) he stood, with folded arms, musing and
intent. In the distance lay the melancholy tombs o