“Why the Barons are daily mustering new strength at Marino.”

“Marino is not Rome,” said Luigi, the butcher.  “Let’s wait till they come to our gates again—­we know how to receive them.  Though, for the matter of that, I think we have had enough fighting—­my two poor brothers had each a stab too much for them.  Why won’t the Tribune, if he be a great man, let us have peace?  All we want now is quiet.”

“Ah!” said a seller of horse-harness.  “Let him make it up with the Barons.  They were good customers after all.”

“For my part,” said a merry-looking fellow, who had been a gravedigger in bad times, and had now opened a stall of wares for the living, “I could forgive him all, but bathing in the holy vase of porphyry.”

“Ah, that was a bad job,” said several, shaking their heads.

“And the knighthood was but a silly show, an’ it were not for the wine from the horse’s nostrils—­that had some sense in it.”

“My masters,” said Cecco, “the folly was in not beheading the Barons when he had them all in the net; and so Messere Baroncelli says. (Ah, Baroncelli is an honest man, and follows no half measures!) It was a sort of treason to the people not to do so.  Why, but for that, we should never have lost so many tall fellows by the gate of San Lorenzo.”

“True, true, it was a shame; some say the Barons bought him.”

“And then,” said another, “those poor Lords Colonna—­boy and man—­they were the best of the family, save the Castello.  I vow I pitied them.”

“But to the point,” said one of the crowd, the richest of the set; “the tax is the thing.—­The ingratitude to tax us.—­Let him dare to do it!”

“Oh, he will not dare, for I hear that the Pope’s bristles are up at last; so he will only have us to depend upon!”

The door was thrown open—­a man rushed in open-mouthed—­

“Masters, masters, the Pope’s legate has arrived at Rome, and sent for the Tribune, who has just left his presence.”

Ere his auditors had recovered their surprise, the sound of trumpets made them rush forth; they saw Rienzi sweep by with his usual cavalcade, and in his proud array.  The twilight was advancing, and torch-bearers preceded his way.  Upon his countenance was deep calm but it was not the calm of contentment.  He passed on, and the street was again desolate.  Meanwhile Rienzi reached the Capitol in silence, and mounted to the apartments of the palace, where Nina, pale and breathless, awaited his return.

“Well, well, thou smilest!  No—­it is that dread smile, worse than frowns.  Speak, beloved, speak!  What said the Cardinal?”

“Little thou wilt love to hear.  He spoke at first high and solemnly, about the crime of declaring the Romans free; next about the treason of asserting that the election of the King of Rome was in the hands of the Romans.”

“Well—­thy answer.”

“That which became Rome’s Tribune:  I re-asserted each right, and proved it.  The Cardinal passed to other charges.”