since the days of the old Republic, did Roman dream a purer and a brighter aspiration, than that which animates and supports me now.  Peace restored—­law established—­art, letters, intellect, dawning upon the night of time; the Patricians, no longer bandits of rapine, but the guard of order; the People ennobled from a mob, brave to protect, enlightened to guide, themselves.  Then, not by the violence of arms, but by the majesty of her moral power, shall the Mother of Nations claim the obedience of her children.  Thus dreaming and thus hoping, shall I tremble or despond?  No, Adrian Colonna, come weal or woe, I abide, unshrinking and unawed, by the chances of my doom!”

So much did the manner and the tone of the Senator exalt his language, that even the sober sense of Adrian was enchanted and subdued.  He kissed the hand he held, and said earnestly,

“A doom that I will deem it my boast to share—­a career that it will be my glory to smooth.  If I succeed in my present mission—­”

“You are my brother!” said Rienzi.

“If I fail?”

“You may equally claim that alliance.  You pause—­you change colour.”

“Can I desert my house?”

“Young Lord,” said Rienzi, loftily, “say rather can you desert your country?  If you doubt my honesty, if you fear my ambition, desist from your task, rob me not of a single foe.  But if you believe that I have the will and the power to serve the State—­if you recognise, even in the reverses and calamities I have known and mastered, the protecting hand of the Saviour of Nations—­if those reverses were but the mercies of Him who chasteneth—­necessary, it may be, to correct my earlier daring and sharpen yet more my intellect—­if, in a word, thou believest me one whom, whatever be his faults, God hath preserved for the sake of Rome, forget that you are a Colonna—­remember only that you are a Roman!”

“You have conquered me, strange and commanding spirit,” said Adrian, in a low voice, completely carried away; “and whatever the conduct of my kindred, I am yours and Rome’s.  Farewell.”

Chapter 9.III.  Adrian’s Adventures at Palestrina.

It was yet noon when Adrian beheld before him the lofty mountains that shelter Palestrina, the Praeneste of the ancient world.  Back to a period before Romulus existed, in the earliest ages of that mysterious civilisation which in Italy preceded the birth of Rome, could be traced the existence and the power of that rocky city.  Eight dependent towns owned its sway and its wealth; its position, and the strength of those mighty walls, in whose ruins may yet be traced the masonry of the remote Pelasgi, had long braved the ambition of the neighbouring Rome.  From that very citadel, the Mural Crown (Hence, apparently, its Greek name of Stephane.  Palestrina is yet one of the many proofs which the vicinity of Rome affords of the old Greek civilization of Italy.) of the mountain, had waved the standard of Marius; and up the road which Adrian’s scanty troop slowly wound, had echoed the march of the murtherous Sylla, on his return from the Mithridatic war.  Below, where the city spread towards the plain, were yet seen the shattered and roofless columns of the once celebrated Temple of Fortune; and still the immemorial olives clustered grey and mournfully around the ruins.