ed to do it. Demagogues fail--Rienzi alone can succeed; he
alone can command the turbulent passions of the Barons--he alone can
sway the capricious and fickle mob. Release, restore Rienzi, and through
Rienzi the Pope regains Rome!"

The Cardinal did not answer for some moments. Buried as in a revery,
he sate motionless, shading his face with his hand. Perhaps he secretly
owned there was a wiser policy in the suggestions of the Signora than he
cared openly to confess. Lifting his head, at length, from his bosom,
he fixed his eyes upon the Signora's watchful countenance, and, with a
forced smile, said,

"Pardon me, madam; but while we play the politicians, forget not that
I am thy adorer. Sagacious may be thy counsels, yet wherefore are they
urged? Why this anxious interest for Rienzi? If by releasing him the
Church may gain an ally, am I sure that Giles d'Albornoz will not raise
a rival?"

"My Lord," said the Signora, half rising, "you are my suitor; but your
rank does not tempt me--your gold cannot buy. If you love me, I have a
right to command your services to whatsoever task I would require--it is
the law of chivalry. If ever I yield to the addresses of mortal lover,
it will be to the man who restores to my native land her hero and her
saviour."

"Fair patriot," said the Cardinal, "your words encourage my hope, yet
they half damp my ambition; for fain would I desire that love and not
service should alone give me the treasure that I ask. But hear me, sweet
lady; you over-rate my power: I cannot deliver Rienzi--he is accused
of rebellion, he is excommunicated for heresy. His acquittal rests with
himself."

"You can procure his trial?"

"Perhaps, Lady."

"That is his acquittal. And a private audience of his Holiness?"

"Doubtless."

"That is his restoration! Behold all I ask!"

"And then, sweet Roman, it will be mine to ask," said the Cardinal,
passionately, dropping on his knee, and taking the Signora's hand. For
one moment, that proud lady felt that she was woman--she blushed, she
trembled; but it was not (could the Cardinal have read that heart) with
passion or with weakness; it was with terror and with shame. Passively
she surrendered her hand to the Cardinal, who covered it with kisses.

"Thus inspired," said Albornoz, rising, "I will not doubt of success.
Tomorrow I wait on thee again."

He pressed her hand to his heart--the lady felt it not. He sighed his
farewell--she did not hear it. Lingeringly