t in the Capitol of Rome!"

A slight tap was heard at the door; Nina regained, in an instant, her
disguise.

"It is on the stroke of midnight," said the gaoler, appearing at the
threshold.

"I come," said Nina.

"And thou hast to prepare thy thoughts," she whispered to Rienzi: "arm
all thy glorious intellect. Alas! is it again we part? How my heart
sinks!"

The presence of the gaoler at the threshold broke the bitterness
of parting by abridging it. The false page pressed her lips on the
prisoner's hand, and left the cell.

The gaoler, lingering behind for a moment, placed a parchment on the
table. It was the summons from the court appointed for the trial of the
Tribune.

Chapter 7.VI. The Scent Does Not Lie.--The Priest and the Soldier.

On descending the stairs, Nina was met by Alvarez.

"Fair page," said the Spaniard, gaily, "thy name, thou tellest me, is
Villani?--Angelo Villani--why I know thy kinsman, methinks. Vouchsafe,
young master, to enter this chamber, and drink a night-cup to thy lady's
health; I would fain learn tidings of my old friends."

"At another time," answered the false Angelo, drawing the cloak closer
round her face; "it is late--I am hurried."

"Nay," said the Spaniard, "you escape me not so easily;" and he caught
firm hold of the page's shoulder.

"Unhand me, sir!" said Nina, haughtily, and almost weeping, for her
strong nerves were yet unstrung. "Gaoler, at thy peril--unbar the
gates."

"So hot," said Alvarez, surprised at so great a waste of dignity in
a page; "nay, I meant not to offend thee. May I wait on thy pageship
tomorrow?"

"Ay, tomorrow," said Nina, eager to escape.

"And meanwhile," said Alvarez, "I will accompany thee home--we can
confer by the way."

So saying, without regarding the protestations of the supposed page, he
passed with Nina into the open air. "Your lady," said he, carelessly,
"is wondrous fair; her lightest will is law to the greatest noble of
Avignon. Methinks she is of Naples--is it so? Art thou dumb, sweet
youth?"

The page did not answer, but with a step so rapid that it almost put the
slow Spaniard out of breath, hastened along the narrow space between the
tower and the palace of the Signora Cesarini, nor could all the efforts
of Alvarez draw forth a single syllable from his reluctant companion,
till they reached the gates of the palace, and he found himself
discourteously left without the walls.

"A plague on the boy!" said he, bitin