The Tribune, exhausted by the trials of the night, retired for a few hours to rest; and as Nina, encircling him within her arms, watched over his noble countenance—­care hushed, ambition laid at rest, its serenity had something almost of sublime.  And tears of that delicious pride, which woman sheds for the hero of her dreams, stood heavy in the wife’s eyes, as she rejoiced more, in the deep stillness of her heart, at the prerogative, alone hers, of sharing his solitary hours, than in all the rank to which his destiny had raised her, and which her nature fitted her at once to adorn and to enjoy.  In that calm and lonely hour she beguiled her heart by waking dreams, vainer than the sleeper’s; and pictured to herself the long career of glory, the august decline of peace, which were to await her lord.

And while she thus watched and thus dreamed, the cloud, as yet no bigger than a man’s hand, darkened the horizon of a fate whose sunshine was well-nigh past!

Chapter 5.II.  The Flight.

Fretting his proud heart, as a steed frets on the bit, old Colonna regained his palace.  To him, innocent of the proposed crime of his kin and compeers, the whole scene of the night and morning presented but one feature of insult and degradation.  Scarce was he in his palace, ere he ordered couriers, in whom he knew he could confide, to be in preparation for his summons.  “This to Avignon,” said he to himself, as he concluded an epistle to the Pontiff.—­“We will see whether the friendship of the great house of the Colonna will outweigh the frantic support of the rabble’s puppet.—­This to Palestrina,—­the rock is inaccessible!—­This to John di Vico, he may be relied upon, traitor though he be!—­This to Naples; the Colonna will disown the Tribune’s ambassador, if he throw not up the trust and hasten hither, not a lover but a soldier!—­and may this find Walter de Montreal!  Ah, a precious messenger he sent us, but I will forgive all—­all, for a thousand lances.”  And as with trembling hands he twined the silk round his letters, he bade his pages invite to his board, next day, all the signors who had been implicated with him on the previous night.

The Barons came—­far more enraged at the disgrace of pardon, than grateful for the boon of mercy.  Their fears combined with their pride; and the shouts of the mob, the whine of the cordeliers, still ringing in their ears, they deemed united resistance the only course left to protect their lives, and avenge their affront.

To them the public pardon of the Tribune seemed only a disguise to private revenge.  All they believed was, that Rienzi did not dare to destroy them in the face of day; forgetfulness and forgiveness appeared to them as the means designed to lull their vigilance, while abasing their pride:  and the knowledge of crime detected forbade them all hope of safety.  The hand of their own assassin might be armed against them, or they might be ruined singly, one by one, as was the common tyrant-craft of that day.  Singularly enough, Luca di Savelli was the most urgent for immediate rebellion.  The fear of death made the coward brave.