“Perhaps, Lady.”

“That is his acquittal.  And a private audience of his Holiness?”

“Doubtless.”

“That is his restoration!  Behold all I ask!”

“And then, sweet Roman, it will be mine to ask,” said the Cardinal, passionately, dropping on his knee, and taking the Signora’s hand.  For one moment, that proud lady felt that she was woman—­she blushed, she trembled; but it was not (could the Cardinal have read that heart) with passion or with weakness; it was with terror and with shame.  Passively she surrendered her hand to the Cardinal, who covered it with kisses.

“Thus inspired,” said Albornoz, rising, “I will not doubt of success.  Tomorrow I wait on thee again.”

He pressed her hand to his heart—­the lady felt it not.  He sighed his farewell—­she did not hear it.  Lingeringly he gazed; and slowly he departed.  But it was some moments before, recalled to herself, the Signora felt that she was alone.

“Alone!” she cried, half aloud, and with wild emphasis—­“alone!  Oh, what have I undergone—­what have I said!  Unfaithful, even in thought, to him!  Oh, never! never!  I, that have felt the kiss of his hallowing lips—­that have slept on his kingly heart—­I!—­holy Mother, befriend and strengthen me!” she continued, as, weeping bitterly, she sunk upon her knees; and for some moments she was lost in prayer.  Then, rising composed, but deadly pale, and with the tears rolling heavily down her cheeks, the Signora passed slowly to the casement; she threw it open, and bent forward; the air of the declining day came softly on her temples; it cooled, it mitigated, the fever that preyed within.  Dark and huge before her frowned, in its gloomy shadow, the tower in which Rienzi was confined; she gazed at it long and wistfully, and then, turning away, drew from the folds of her robe a small and sharp dagger.  “Let me save him for glory!” she murmured; “and this shall save me from dishonour!”

Chapter 7.III.  Holy Men.—­Sagacious Deliberations.—­Just Resolves.—­And Sordid Motives to All.

Enamoured of the beauty, and almost equally so of the lofty spirit, of the Signora Cesarini, as was the warlike Cardinal of Spain, love with him was not so master a passion as that ambition of complete success in all the active designs of life, which had hitherto animated his character and signalized his career.  Musing, as he left the Signora, on her wish for the restoration of the Roman Tribune, his experienced and profound intellect ran swiftly through whatever advantages to his own political designs might result from that restoration.  We have seen that it was the intention of the new Pontiff to attempt the recovery of the patrimonial territories, now torn from him by the gripe of able and disaffected tyrants.  With this view, a military force was already in preparation, and the Cardinal was already secretly nominated the chief.