ons of the different princes. Behind was
hoisted the Imperial banner.

On the appointed day the troops were drawn up in battle-array upon the
plain, and the sunlight danced merrily upon the thousands of helmets
and lances of polished steel. Nearer, the knights, in complete armor,
sat motionless upon their chargers, like a wall of iron.

The Milanese advanced despondently and slowly in dense masses. At their
head walked the consuls, barefooted, with halters around their necks,
and clothed in sackcloth. The banners and escutcheons of the several
municipalities were borne aloft on long lances. Not a breath of wind
moved them, and they hung sadly against their staves, as though
mourning their city's ruin. The keys of the town were carried on a
cushion of blue velvet, ready to be offered, by the consuls, to the
Emperor. The bugles at times rang out a melancholy wail of despair, and
when they ceased, there went up a dirge of woe mingled with
supplications for mercy, like those uttered by the people in moments of
national calamity. It seemed as if Heaven were taking part in the
sombre pageant, for dark clouds suddenly veiled the sun, and the air
grew heavy and oppressive. The victors themselves were affected by the
sight of this humiliation of their valiant enemies, and only among the
troops of the Italian auxiliaries could be seen a sneer of irony and
exultation.

The consuls halted in front of the platform, and a thrill of anxious
expectation ran from rank to rank, until it reached the gates of Milan,
whence the people still continued to issue. Insensibly the crowd stood
still. The very boldest now were bowed to the earth. On all sides
nothing met the eye but ashes and cords and penitential vestments. The
trumpets were silent, and the solemn chant, _Kyrie Eleison_! _Kyrie
Eleison_! was heard, as if the citizens would show that they expected
no aid now but from God. From time to time a plaintive groan was
answered by a thousand sighs of agony: it seemed the dying breath of a
whole nation whose funeral knell was sounding.

There was a flourish of trumpets near the Imperial tent; Barbarossa was
about to appear. The sound grew nearer and more distinct; and then the
Emperor, surrounded by his nobles, rode up and dismounted about thirty
paces from the throne. With haughty bearing and a look of pride upon
his face, Frederic moved forward, followed by a splendid array of
knights and princes. Far away in the distance stretched th