love thee half as well as I; and yet, my sister and
my child, none can know thy soft soul like he who watched over it since
its first blossom expanded to the sun. My poor brother! had he lived,
your counsel had been his; and methinks his gentle spirit often whispers
away the sternness which, otherwise, would harden over mine. Nina, my
queen, my inspirer, my monitor--ever thus let thy heart, masculine in my
distress, be woman's in my power; and be to me, with Irene, upon earth,
what my brother is in heaven!"

The Tribune, exhausted by the trials of the night, retired for a few
hours to rest; and as Nina, encircling him within her arms, watched over
his noble countenance--care hushed, ambition laid at rest, its serenity
had something almost of sublime. And tears of that delicious pride,
which woman sheds for the hero of her dreams, stood heavy in the wife's
eyes, as she rejoiced more, in the deep stillness of her heart, at the
prerogative, alone hers, of sharing his solitary hours, than in all the
rank to which his destiny had raised her, and which her nature fitted
her at once to adorn and to enjoy. In that calm and lonely hour she
beguiled her heart by waking dreams, vainer than the sleeper's; and
pictured to herself the long career of glory, the august decline of
peace, which were to await her lord.

And while she thus watched and thus dreamed, the cloud, as yet no bigger
than a man's hand, darkened the horizon of a fate whose sunshine was
well-nigh past!

Chapter 5.II. The Flight.

Fretting his proud heart, as a steed frets on the bit, old Colonna
regained his palace. To him, innocent of the proposed crime of his kin
and compeers, the whole scene of the night and morning presented but one
feature of insult and degradation. Scarce was he in his palace, ere he
ordered couriers, in whom he knew he could confide, to be in preparation
for his summons. "This to Avignon," said he to himself, as he concluded
an epistle to the Pontiff.--"We will see whether the friendship of the
great house of the Colonna will outweigh the frantic support of the
rabble's puppet.--This to Palestrina,--the rock is inaccessible!--This
to John di Vico, he may be relied upon, traitor though he be!--This to
Naples; the Colonna will disown the Tribune's ambassador, if he throw
not up the trust and hasten hither, not a lover but a soldier!--and may
this find Walter de Montreal! Ah, a precious messenger he sent us, but
I will forgive all--all,