hy immediate presence."

Angelo, whose morbid susceptibility as to his parentage was ever excited
by vague but ambitious hopes--started up, dressed hurriedly, and joining
the messenger below, repaired to the Convent. In the Court of the
Capitol, and by the Staircase of the Lion, was already heard the noise
of the workmen, and looking back, Villani beheld the scaffold, hung with
black--sleeping cloudlike in the grey light of dawn--at the same time,
the bell of the Capitol tolled heavily. A pang shot athwart him. He
hurried on;--despite the immature earliness of the hour, he met groups
of either sex, hastening along the streets to witness the execution
of the redoubted Captain of the Grand Company. The Convent of the
Augustines was at the farthest extremity of that city, even then so
extensive, and the red light upon the hilltops already heralded the
rising sun, ere the young man reached the venerable porch. His name
obtained him instant admittance.

"Heaven grant," said an old Nun, who conducted him through a long and
winding passage, "that thou mayst bring comfort to the sick sister: she
has pined for thee grievously since matins."

In a cell set apart for the reception of visitors (from the
outward world), to such of the Sisterhood as received the necessary
dispensation, sate the aged Nun. Angelo had only seen her once since his
return to Rome, and since then disease had made rapid havoc on her form
and features. And now, in her shroudlike garments and attenuated frame,
she seemed by the morning light as a spectre whom day had surprised
above the earth. She approached the youth, however, with a motion more
elastic and rapid than seemed possible to her worn and ghastly form.
"Thou art come," she said. "Well, well! This morning after matins, my
confessor, an Augustine, who alone knows the secrets of my life, took
me aside, and told me that Walter de Montreal had been seized by the
Senator--that he was adjudged to die, and that one of the Augustine
brotherhood had been sent for to attend his last hours--is it so?"

"Thou wert told aright," said Angelo, wonderingly. "The man at whose
name thou wert wont to shudder--against whom thou hast so often warned
me--will die at sunrise."

"So soon!--so soon!--Oh, Mother of Mercy!--fly! thou art about the
person of the Senator, thou hast high favour with him; fly! down on thy
knees, and as thou hopest for God's grace, rise not till thou hast won
the Provencal's life."

"She r