f the Campagna, and
the circling hills, crested with the purple hues soon to melt beneath
the starlight. Not a breeze stirred the dark cypress and unwaving pine.
There was something awful in the stillness of the skies, hushing the
desolate grandeur of the earth below. Many and mingled were the thoughts
that swept over Rienzi's breast: memory was busy at his heart. How
often, in his youth, had he trodden the same spot!--what visions had
he nursed!--what hopes conceived! In the turbulence of his later life,
Memory had long slept; but at that hour, she re-asserted her shadowy
reign with a despotism that seemed prophetic. He was wandering--a boy,
with his young brother, hand in hand, by the riverside at eve: anon he
saw a pale face and gory side, and once more uttered his imprecations of
revenge! His first successes, his virgin triumphs, his secret love, his
fame, his power, his reverses, the hermitage of Maiella, the dungeon of
Avignon, the triumphal return to Rome,--all swept across his breast with
a distinctness as if he were living those scenes again!--and now!--he
shrunk from the present, and descended the hill. The moon, already
risen, shed her light over the Forum, as he passed through its mingled
ruins. By the Temple of Jupiter, two figures suddenly emerged; the
moonlight fell upon their faces, and Rienzi recognised Cecco del
Vecchio and Angelo Villani. They saw him not; but, eagerly conversing,
disappeared by the Arch of Trajan.

"Villani! ever active in my service!" thought the Senator; "methinks
this morning I spoke to him harshly--it was churlish in me!"

He re-entered the Place of the Capitol--he stood by the staircase of
the Lion; there was a red stain upon the pavement, unobliterated since
Montreal's execution, and the Senator drew himself aside with an inward
shudder. Was it the ghastly and spectral light of the Moon, or did the
face of that old Egyptian Monster wear an aspect that was as of life?
The stony eyeballs seemed bent upon him with a malignant scowl; and as
he passed on, and looked behind, they appeared almost preternaturally
to follow his steps. A chill, he knew not why, sunk into his heart. He
hastened to regain his palace. The sentinels made way for him.

"Senator," said one of them, doubtingly, "Messere Angelo Villani is our
new captain--we are to obey his orders?"

"Assuredly," returned the Senator, passing on. The man lingered
uneasily, as if he would have spoken, but Rienzi observed it no