It was another cause of sorrow and chagrin to one who, amidst such circumstances of public danger, required so peculiarly the support and sympathy of private friends,—­that he found he had incurred amongst his old coadjutors the common penalty of absence.  A few were dead; others, wearied with the storms of public life, and chilled in their ardour by the turbulent revolutions to which, in every effort for her amelioration, Rome had been subjected, had retired,—­some altogether from the city, some from all participation in political affairs.  In his halls, the Tribune-Senator was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and a new generation.  Of the heads of the popular party, most were animated by a stern dislike to the Pontifical domination, and looked with suspicion and repugnance upon one who, if he governed for the People, had been trusted and honoured by the Pope.  Rienzi was not a man to forget former friends, however lowly, and had already found time to seek an interview with Cecco del Vecchio.  But that stern Republican had received him with coldness.  His foreign mercenaries, and his title of Senator, were things that the artisan could not digest.  With his usual bluntness, he had said so to Rienzi.

“As for the last,” answered the Tribune, affably, “names do not alter natures.  When I forget that to be delegate to the Pontiff is to be the guardian of his flock, forsake me.  As for the first, let me but see five hundred Romans sworn to stand armed day and night for the defence of Rome, and I dismiss the Northmen.”

Cecco del Vecchio was unsoftened; honest, but uneducated—­impracticable, and by nature a malcontent, he felt as if he were no longer necessary to the Senator, and this offended his pride.  Strange as it may seem, the sullen artisan bore, too, a secret grudge against Rienzi, for not having seen and selected him from a crowd of thousands on the day of his triumphal entry.  Such are the small offences which produce deep danger to the great!

The artisans still held their meetings, and Cecco del Vecchio’s voice was heard loud in grumbling forebodings.  But what wounded Rienzi yet more than the alienation of the rest, was the confused and altered manner of his old friend and familiar, Pandulfo di Guido.  Missing that popular citizen among those who daily offered their homage at the Capitol, he had sent for him, and sought in vain to revive their ancient intimacy.  Pandulfo affected great respect, but not all the condescension of the Senator could conquer his distance and his restraint.  In fact, Pandulfo had learned to form ambitious projects of his own; and but for the return of Rienzi, Pandulfo di Guido felt that he might now, with greater safety, and indeed with some connivance from the Barons, have been the Tribune of the People.  The facility to rise into popular eminence which a disordered and corrupt state, unblest by a regular constitution, offers to ambition, breeds the jealousy and the rivalship which destroy union, and rot away the ties of party.