, whom you
call the Tribune--has he boldly thrown the gage to that dread warrior?
and has Montreal left the Roman territory?"

"Ay, it is the talk of the town. But Fra Moreale seems as much a bugbear
to you as to e'er a mother in Rome. Did he ever wrong you, dame?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the old woman, with so abrupt a fierceness, that even
that hardy boy was startled.

"I wish I could meet him, then," said he, after a pause, as he
flourished his mimic weapon.

"Now Heaven forbid! He is a man ever to be shunned by thee, whether for
peace or war. Say again this good Tribune holds no terms with the Free
Lances."

"Say it again--why all Rome knows it."

"He is pious, too, I have heard; and they do bruit it that he sees
visions, and is comforted from above," said the woman, speaking to
herself. Then turning to Angelo, she continued,--"Thou wouldst like
greatly to accept the Lady Nina's proffer?"

"Ah, that I should, dame, if you could spare me."

"Child," replied the matron, solemnly, "my sand is nearly run, and my
wish is to see thee placed with one who will nurture thy young years,
and save thee from a life of licence. That done, I may fulfil my vow,
and devote the desolate remnant of my years to God. I will think more
of this, my child. Not under such a plebeian's roof shouldst thou have
lodged, nor from a stranger's board been fed: but at Rome, my last
relative worthy of the trust is dead;--and at the worst, obscure honesty
is better than gaudy crime. Thy spirit troubles me already. Back, my
child; I must to my closet, and watch and pray."

Thus saying, the old woman, repelling the advance, and silencing the
muttered and confused words, of the boy--half affectionate as they were,
yet half tetchy and wayward--glided from the chamber.

The boy looked abstractedly at the closing door, and then said to
himself--"The dame is always talking riddles: I wonder if she know more
of me than she tells, or if she is any way akin to me. I hope not, for
I don't love her much; nor, for that matter, anything else. I wish she
would place me with the Tribune's lady, and then we'll see who among the
lads will call Angelo Villani bastard."

With that the boy fell to work again at his sword with redoubled vigour.
In fact, the cold manner of this female, his sole nurse, companion,
substitute for parent, had repelled his affections without subduing his
temper; and though not originally of evil disposition, Angelo Villani
was already i