The Knight of the Emperor, to whom belonged that august dignity, drew back in dismay.

“And,” resumed the citizen, “this assembly of all the lesser Barons, Councillors, and Artificers, is convened to hear the answer.”

“Of course it will be assent?”

“I know not—­there are strange rumours; hitherto the Liberator has concealed his sentiments.”

At that instant a loud flourish of martial music announced the approach of Rienzi.  The crowd tumultuously divided, and presently, from the Palace of the Capitol to the scaffold, passed Rienzi, still in complete armour, save the helmet, and with him, in all the pomp of his episcopal robes, Raimond of Orvietto.

As soon as Rienzi had ascended the platform, and was thus made visible to the whole concourse, no words can suffice to paint the enthusiasm of the scene—­the shouts, the gestures, the tears, the sobs, the wild laughter, in which the sympathy of those lively and susceptible children of the South broke forth.  The windows and balconies of the Palace were thronged with the wives and daughters of the lesser Barons and more opulent citizens; and Adrian, with a slight start, beheld amongst them,—­pale—­agitated—­tearful,—­the lovely face of his Irene—­a face that even thus would have outshone all present, but for one by her side, whose beauty the emotion of the hour only served to embellish.  The dark, large, and flashing eyes of Nina di Raselli, just bedewed, were fixed proudly on the hero of her choice:  and pride, even more than joy, gave a richer carnation to her cheek, and the presence of a queen to her noble and rounded form.  The setting sun poured its full glory over the spot; the bared heads—­the animated faces of the crowd—­the grey and vast mass of the Capitol; and, not far from the side of Rienzi, it brought into a strange and startling light the sculptured form of a colossal Lion of Basalt, (The existent Capitol is very different from the building at the time of Rienzi; and the reader must not suppose that the present staircase, designed by Michael Angelo, at the base of which are two marble lions, removed by Pius iv. from the Church of St. Stephen del Cacco, was the staircase of the Lion of Basalt, which bears so stern a connexion with the history of Rienzi.  That mute witness of dark deeds is no more.) which gave its name to a staircase leading to the Capitol.  It was an old Egyptian relic,—­vast, worn, and grim; some symbol of a vanished creed, to whose face the sculptor had imparted something of the aspect of the human countenance.  And this producing the effect probably sought, gave at all times a mystic, preternatural, and fearful expression to the stern features, and to that solemn and hushed repose, which is so peculiarly the secret of Egyptian sculpture.  The awe which this colossal and frowning image was calculated to convey, was felt yet more deeply by the vulgar, because “the Staircase of the Lion” was the wonted place of the state executions, as of the state ceremonies.  And seldom did the stoutest citizen forget to cross himself, or feel unchilled with a certain terror, whenever, passing by the place, he caught, suddenly fixed upon him, the stony gaze and ominous grin of that old monster from the cities of the Nile.