rian, through a wandering pilgrim, at the
commencement of March, somewhat more than two months after the date; the
March of that awful year 1348, which saw Europe, and Italy especially,
desolated by the direst pestilence which history has recorded, accursed
alike by the numbers and the celebrity of its victims, and yet strangely
connected with some not unpleasing images by the grace of Boccaccio and
the eloquence of Petrarch.

The pilgrim who informed Adrian of the revolution at Rome was unable to
give him any clue to the present fate of Rienzi or his family. It was
only known that the Tribune and his wife had escaped, none knew whither;
many guessed that they were already dead, victims to the numerous
robbers who immediately on the fall of the Tribune settled back to their
former habits, sparing neither age nor sex, wealth nor poverty. As all
relating to the ex-Tribune was matter of eager interest, the pilgrim had
also learned that, previous to the fall of Rienzi, his sister had left
Rome, but it was not known to what place she had been conveyed.

The news utterly roused Adrian from his dreaming life. Irene was then
in the condition his letter dared to picture--severed from her brother,
fallen from her rank, desolate and friendless. "Now," said the generous
and high-hearted lover, "she may be mine without a disgrace to my name.
Whatever Rienzi's faults, she is not implicated in them. Her hands are
not red with my kinsman's blood; nor can men say that Adrian di Castello
allies himself with a House whose power is built upon the ruins of
the Colonnas. The Colonna are restored--again triumphant--Rienzi is
nothing--distress and misfortune unite me at once to her on whom they
fall!"

But how were these romantic resolutions to be executed--Irene's
dwelling-place unknown? He resolved himself to repair to Rome and make
the necessary inquiries: accordingly he summoned his retainers:--blithe
tidings to them, those of travel! The mail left the armoury--the banner
the hall--and after two days of animated bustle, the fountain by which
Adrian had passed so many hours of revery was haunted only by the
birds of the returning spring; and the nightly lamp no longer cast its
solitary ray from his turret chamber over the bosom of the deserted
lake.

Chapter 6.II. The Seeker.

It was a bright, oppressive, sultry morning, when a solitary horseman
was seen winding that unequalled road, from whose height, amidst
figtrees, vines, and