oor slaves," he continued, "life is only a burden destitute of every
joy. For this we have been deprived of our rights to hunt and fish, for
this we are not allowed an instant which we can devote to the most
innocent amusement. Woe to him who would leave his work to take a
moment's rest. Is it right and just that your lives should be consumed
in the most painful drudgery, that you should be subjected to every
privation, whilst your masters revel in every luxury?"

The orator had attained his object, for he was compelled to pause an
instant in order to allow his auditors to give vent to their rage in
fierce imprecations against the oppressors of their native country.

"In ancient times the barbarians overran our fair land, but they only
passed over her surface; by bending the head to the storm, its fury was
soon spent, and the evils could be repaired. Barbarossa, on the
contrary, has put about our necks a yoke from which there is no relief.
We must build with our own hands the fortresses which threaten us; with
our own hands we must construct for these cruel vultures--I mean for
the worthy prefects of the Emperor--those nests from which they can
swoop down upon us with impunity, to pillage and murder. Will you
always submit to slavery? Are you willing to be oppressed until death
sets you free? Will you not, at last, rise in your might, and expel the
tyrants?"

"Liberty forever! Death to the tyrants! Down with Barbarossa! May he
die, he and his infamous satellites!" was heard from all parts of the
ruined church.

"Yes! liberty forever," resumed the orator in a calmer tone; "the hour
of our deliverance is at hand; profit by it, for it may pass, never to
return. At present the Emperor is before Rome. The most solid bulwarks
to our liberty are the Church and Alexander, the successor of Saint
Peter. If Barbarossa succeeds in overthrowing him, we shall lose
forever all hope of shaking off the yoke imposed upon us by the Germans
and the Emperor." And the orator descended from his rude platform amid
the clamorous applause of his auditory.

The speaker was a nobleman of great respectability, whose patriotism
was equalled by his benevolence towards the needy and distressed. He
had exaggerated nothing; but, on the contrary, had endeavored to
palliate; and this very circumstance had increased the effect of his
discourse. The pitiless severity of the prefects was, unfortunately, a
positive and general fact, and the harsh sentime