d on: the first ray of daylight slowly gleamed, when he
thought he heard the door of the church close. Savelli's suspense
became intolerable: he stole from the chapel, and came in sight of the
Tribune's bed--all was silent.

"Perhaps the silence of death," said Savelli, as he crept back.

Meanwhile the Tribune, vainly endeavouring to close his eyes, was
rendered yet more watchful by the uneasy position he was obliged to
assume--for the part of the bed towards the pillow having given way,
while the rest remained solid, he had inverted the legitimate order
of lying, and drawn himself up as he might best accommodate his limbs,
towards the foot of the bed. The light of the lamp, though shaded by the
draperies, was thus opposite to him. Impatient of his wakefulness, he at
last thought it was this dull and flickering light which scared away the
slumber, and was about to rise, to remove it further from him, when he
saw the curtain at the other end of the bed gently lifted: he remained
quiet and alarmed;--ere he could draw a second breath, a dark figure
interposed between the light and the bed; and he felt that a stroke was
aimed against that part of the couch, which, but for the accident that
had seemed to him ominous, would have given his breast to the knife.
Rienzi waited not a second and better-directed blow; as the assassin yet
stooped, groping in the uncertain light, he threw on him all the weight
and power of his large and muscular frame, wrenched the stiletto from
the bravo's hand, and dashing him on the bed, placed his knee on his
breast.--The stiletto rose--gleamed--descended--the murtherer swerved
aside, and it pierced only his right arm. The Tribune raised, for a
deadlier blow, the revengeful blade.

The assassin thus foiled was a man used to all form and shape of danger,
and he did not now lose his presence of mind.

"Hold!" said he; "if you kill me, you will die yourself. Spare me, and I
will save you."

"Miscreant!"

"Hush--not so loud, or you will disturb your attendants, and some of
them may do what I have failed to execute. Spare me, I say, and I will
reveal that which were worth more than my life; but call not--speak not
aloud, I warn you!"

The Tribune felt his heart stand still: in that lonely place, afar from
his idolizing people--his devoted guards--with but loathing barons,
or, it might be, faithless menials, within call, might not the baffled
murtherer give a wholesome warning?--and those words