ave Romans, determined to be free, he might have crushed
for ever the antagonist power to the Roman liberties--have secured the
rights of his country, and filled up the measure of his own renown. Such
a reverse was the very mockery of Fate, who bore him through disaster,
to abandon him in the sunniest noon of his prosperity.

The next morning not a soul was to be seen in the streets; the shops
were shut--the churches closed; the city was as under an interdict. The
awful curse of the papal excommunication upon the chief magistrate of
the Pontifical City, seemed to freeze up all the arteries of life. The
Legate himself, affecting fear of his life, had fled to Monte Fiascone,
where he was joined by the Barons immediately after the publication of
the edict. The curse worked best in the absence of the execrator.

Towards evening a few persons might be seen traversing the broad space
of the Capitol, crossing themselves, as the bull, placarded on the Lion,
met their eyes, and disappearing within the doors of the great palace.
By and by, a few anxious groups collected in the streets, but they
soon dispersed. It was a paralysis of all intercourse and commune. That
spiritual and unarmed authority, which, like the invisible hand of God,
desolated the market-place, and humbled the crowned head, no physical
force could rally against or resist. Yet, through the universal awe, one
conviction touched the multitude--it was for them that their Tribune
was thus blasted in the midst of his glories! The words of the
Brand recorded against him on wall and column detailed his
offences:--rebellion in asserting the liberties of Rome--heresy in
purifying ecclesiastical abuses;--and, to serve for a miserable covert
to the rest, it was sacrilege for bathing in the porphyry vase of
Constantine! They felt the conviction; they sighed--they shuddered--and,
in his vast palace, save a few attached and devoted hearts, the Tribune
was alone!

The staunchest of his Tuscan soldiery were gone with Irene. The rest
of his force, save a few remaining guards, was the paid Roman militia,
composed of citizens; who, long discontented by the delay of their
stipends, now seized on the excuse of the excommunication to remain
passive, but grumbling, in their homes.

On the third day, a new incident broke upon the death-like lethargy of
the city; a hundred and fifty mercenaries, with Pepin of Minorbino, a
Neapolitan, half noble, half bandit, (a creature of Montreal's