captains.  A crowd followed.  I was one of them; and the Tribune nodded at me—­ay, that did he!—­and so, with his scarlet cloak, and his scarlet cap, he faced the proud Cardinal with a pride greater than his own.  ‘Monsignore,’ said he, ’though you accord me neither money nor arms, to meet the dangers of the road and brave the ambush of the Barons, I am prepared to depart.  Senator of Rome, his Holiness hath made me:  according to custom, I pray you, Monsignore, forthwith to confirm the rank.’  I would you could have seen how the proud Spaniard stared, and blushed, and frowned; but he bit his lip, and said little.”

“And confirmed Rienzi Senator?”

“Yes; and blessed him, and bade him depart.”

“Senator!” said a stalwart but grey-haired giant with folded arms; “I like not a title that has been borne by a patrician.  I fear me, in the new title he will forget the old.”

“Fie, Cecco del Vecchio, you were always a grumbler!” said a merchant of cloth, whose commodity the ceremonial had put in great request.  “Fie!—­for my part, I think Senator a less new-fangled title than Tribune.  I hope there will be feasting enow, at last.  Rome has been long dull.  A bad time for trade, I warrant me!”

The artisan grinned scornfully.  He was one of those who distinguished between the middle class and the working, and he loathed a merchant as much as he did a noble.  “The day wears,” said the little man; “he must be here anon.  The Senator’s lady, and all his train, have gone forth to meet him these two hours.”

Scarce were these words uttered, when the crowd to the right swayed restlessly; and presently a horseman rode rapidly through the street.  “Way there!  Keep back!  Way—­make way for the Most Illustrious the Senator of Rome!”

The crowd became hushed—­then murmuring—­then hushed again.  From balcony and casement stretched the neck of every gazer.  The tramp of steeds was heard at a distance—­the sound of clarion and trumpet;—­then, gleaming through the distant curve of the streets, was seen the wave of the gonfalons—­then, the glitter of spears—­and then from the whole multitude, as from one voice, arose the shout,—­“He comes! he comes!”

Adrian shrunk yet more backward amongst the throng; and, leaning against the wall of one of the houses, contemplated the approaching pageant.

First came, six abreast, the procession of Roman horsemen who had gone forth to meet the Senator, bearing boughs of olive in their hands; each hundred preceded by banners, inscribed with the words, “Liberty and Peace restored.”  As these passed the group by Adrian, each more popular citizen of the cavalcade was recognised, and received with loud shouts.  By the garb and equipment of the horsemen, Adrian saw that they belonged chiefly to the traders of Rome; a race who, he well knew, unless strangely altered, valued liberty only as a commercial speculation.  “A vain support these,” thought the Colonna;—­“what