d on the place where
the altar had once stood, and upon it was a man depicting in fervid
language the misfortunes and disasters of Lombardy. His audience, who
were all in armor, listened to him with passionate and earnest
attention; at times they applauded his words, at others their shouts of
menace and defiance proved that he had succeeded in arousing their
resentment. Rapallo, fearing to interrupt the harangue, stopped at the
door.

"Dearly beloved brethren," cried the orator, with a piercing voice,
"you have seen that Barbarossa is insensible to our grievances. In vain
you have protested against the insolence of his prefects, against the
injuries done to your property, the drudgery which has been imposed
upon you, the ill treatment which you have borne; in short, against all
the acts of violence and oppression of which you have been the victims.
The Emperor has remained deaf to all your complaints. Do you know the
reason?"

The orator paused for a moment; his lips compressed, his nostrils
dilated, he seemed to infuse into his hearers, by his looks, the fury
with which he was himself animated.

"It is," he resumed in a still higher key, "because he looks upon you
as slaves, whose necks are fitted to bear the yoke of his tyranny.
Think of what he once said at Pavia: 'Italy is a conquered province,
she has lost all her rights; to demand any of her former privileges is
an act of rebellion.' Yes, this is what he said openly, the despot! I
heard him with my own ears; yes, he dared to say, that you have no
longer any rights, that you are nothing but his vassals."

A dull murmur ran through the assembly.

"Thus, brothers, when we appeal to right and justice, we are guilty of
rebellion. With such principles, what have we left to hope for? Are you
astonished now that an abstract has been made of your lands, of your
houses, of your herds, of all your wealth, and that you have been taxed
in consequence? Do you not know, brothers, that you no longer possess
anything, but that all belongs to the Emperor? Gather in your harvests,
the bailiffs come with their satellites and take what they please.
Prayers and tears are unavailing. Only enough is left us to barely
prolong our own wretched existence, and that of our children; and this
is all that is necessary for slaves, who live merely in the interest
and for the service of their master."

The murmurs became more threatening, for passion was working in the
hearts of all.

"P