He soon found himself in the open street; the air revived him; and that morning had sprung up the blessed breeze, the first known for weeks.  He wandered on very slowly and feebly till he came to a broad square, from which, in the vista, might be seen one of the principal gates of Florence, and the fig-trees and olive-groves beyond, it was then that a Pilgrim of tall stature approached towards him as from the gate; his hood was thrown back, and gave to view a countenance of great but sad command; a face, in whose high features, massive brow, and proud, unshrinking gaze, shaded by an expression of melancholy more stern than soft, Nature seemed to have written majesty, and Fate disaster.  As in that silent and dreary place, these two, the only tenants of the street, now encountered, Adrian stopped abruptly, and said in a startled and doubting voice:  “Do I dream still, or do I behold Rienzi?”

The Pilgrim paused also, as he heard the name, and gazing long on the attenuated features of the young lord, said:  “I am he that was Rienzi! and you, pale shadow, is it in this grave of Italy that I meet with the gay and high Colonna?  Alas, young friend,” he added, in a more relaxed and kindly voice, “hath the Plague not spared the flower of the Roman nobles?  Come, I, the cruel and the harsh Tribune, I will be thy nurse:  he who might have been my brother, shall yet claim from me a brother’s care.”

With these words he wound his arm tenderly round Adrian; and the young noble, touched by his compassion, and agitated by the surprise, leaned upon Rienzi’s breast in silence.

“Poor youth,” resumed the Tribune, for so, since rather fallen than deposed, he may yet be called; “I ever loved the young, (my brother died young;) and you more than most.  What fatality brought thee hither?”

“Irene!” replied Adrian, falteringly.

“Is it so, really?  Art thou a Colonna, and yet prize the fallen?  The same duty has brought me also to the city of Death.  From the furthest south—­over the mountains of the robber—­through the fastnesses of my foes—­through towns in which the herald proclaimed in my ear the price of my head—­I have passed hither, on foot and alone, safe under the wings of the Almighty One.  Young man, thou shouldst have left this task to one who bears a wizard’s life, and whom Heaven and Earth yet reserve for an appointed end!”

The Tribune said this in a deep and inward voice; and in his raised eye and solemn brow might be seen how much his reverses had deepened his fanaticism, and added even to the sanguineness of his hopes.

“But,” asked Adrian, withdrawing gently from Rienzi’s arm, “thou knowest, then, where Irene is to be found; let us go together.  Lose not a moment in this talk; time is of inestimable value, and a moment in this city is often but the border to eternity.”

“Right,” said Rienzi, awakening to his object.  “But fear not, I have dreamt that I shall save her, the gem and darling of my house.  Fear not, I have no fear.”