“Blood, Tribune!” said di Scotto, who was innocent of the plot:  “Thou sayest blood, and lo! on the floor are large gouts of it not yet dry.”

“Now, out on thee, old hero, for betraying my awkwardness!  I pricked myself with my own dagger in unrobing.  Thank Heaven it hath no poison in its blade!”

The Frangipani exchanged looks,—­Luca di Savelli clung to a column for support,—­and the rest of the attendants seemed grave and surprised.

“Think not of it, my masters,” said Rienzi:  “it is a good omen, and a true prophecy.  It implies that he who girds on his sword for the good of the state, must be ready to spill his blood for it:  that am I. No more of this—­a mere scratch:  it gave more blood than I recked of from so slight a puncture, and saves the leech the trouble of the lancet.  How brightly breaks the day!  We must prepare to meet our fellow-citizens—­they will be here anon.  Ha, my Pandulfo—­welcome!—­thou, my old friend, shalt buckle on this mantle!”

And while Pandulfo was engaged in the task, the Tribune whispered a few words in his ear, which, by the smile on his countenance, seemed to the attendants one of the familiar jests with which Rienzi distinguished his intercourse with his more confidential intimates.

Chapter 4.VI.  The Celebrated Citation.

The bell of the great Lateran church sounded shrill and loud, as the mighty multitude, greater even than that of the preceding night, swept on.  The appointed officers made way with difficulty for the barons and ambassadors, and scarcely were those noble visitors admitted ere the crowd closed in their ranks, poured headlong into the church, and took the way to the chapel of Boniface VIII.  There, filling every cranny, and blocking up the entrance, the more fortunate of the press beheld the Tribune surrounded by the splendid court his genius had collected, and his fortune had subdued.  At length, as the solemn and holy music began to swell through the edifice, preluding the celebration of the mass, the Tribune stepped forth, and the hush of the music was increased by the universal and dead silence of the audience.  His height, his air, his countenance, were such as always command the attention of crowds; and at this time they received every adjunct from the interest of the occasion, and that peculiar look of intent yet suppressed fervour, which is, perhaps, the sole gift of the eloquent that Nature alone can give.

“Be it known,” said he, slowly and deliberately, “in virtue of that authority, power, and jurisdiction, which the Roman people, in general parliament, have assigned to us, and which the Sovereign Pontiff hath confirmed, that we, not ungrateful of the gift and grace of the Holy Spirit—­whose soldier we now are—­nor of the favour of the Roman people, declare, that Rome, capital of the world, and base of the Christian church; and that every City, State, and People of Italy, are henceforth free.