he
Barons in their designed assassination of Rienzi, though hastily
slurred over by Gibbon, and other modern writers, is clearly attested
by Muratori, the Bolognese Chronicle &c.--They even confessed the crime.
(See Cron. Estens: Muratori, tom. xviii. page 442.))

All that night the conspirators remained within that room, the doors
locked and guarded; the banquet unremoved, and its splendour strangely
contrasting the mood of the guests.

The utter prostration and despair of these dastard criminals--so unlike
the knightly nobles of France and England, has been painted by the
historian in odious and withering colours. The old Colonna alone
sustained his impetuous and imperious character. He strode to and fro
the room like a lion in his cage, uttering loud threats of resentment
and defiance; and beating at the door with his clenched hands, demanding
egress, and proclaiming the vengeance of the Pontiff.

The dawn came, slow and grey upon that agonized assembly: and just as
the last star faded from the melancholy horizon, and by the wan and
comfortless heaven, they regarded each other's faces, almost spectral
with anxiety and fear, the great bell of the Capitol sounded the notes
in which they well recognised the chime of death! It was then that the
door opened, and a drear and gloomy procession of cordeliers, one to
each Baron, entered the apartment! At that spectacle, we are told, the
terror of the conspirators was so great, that it froze up the very power
of speech. ("Diventarono si gelati, che non poteno favellare.") The
greater part at length, deeming all hope over, resigned themselves
to their ghostly confessors. But when the friar appointed to Stephen
approached that passionate old man, he waved his hand impatiently, and
said--"Tease me not! Tease me not!"

"Nay, son, prepare for the awful hour."

"Son, indeed!" quoth the Baron. "I am old enough to be thy grandsire;
and for the rest, tell him who sent thee, that I neither am prepared
for death, nor will prepare! I have made up my mind to live these twenty
years, and longer too;--if I catch not my death with the cold of this
accursed night."

Just at that moment a cry that almost seemed to rend the Capitol asunder
was heard, as, with one voice, the multitude below yelled forth--

"Death to the conspirators!--death! death!"

While this the scene in that hall, the Tribune issued from his chamber,
in which he had been closeted with his wife and sister. The noble s