“For my part,” said Stefanello, “I feel that we have but a choice of evils—­I like not a foreign Podesta; but I like a plebeian Senator still less;—­there too is my hand, Sir Knight.”

“Noble Signors,” said Montreal, after a short pause, and turning his piercing gaze from one to the other with great deliberation, “our compact is sealed; one word by way of codicil.  Walter de Montreal is no Count Pepin of Minorbino!  Once before, little dreaming, I own, that the victory would be so facile, I intrusted your cause and mine to a deputy; your cause he promoted, mine he lost.  He drove out the Tribune, and then suffered the Barons to banish himself.  This time I see to my own affairs; and, mark you, I have learned in the Grand Company one lesson; viz. never to pardon spy or deserter, of whatever rank.  Your forgiveness for the hint.  Let us change the theme.  So ye detain in your fortress my old friend the Baron di Castello?”

“Ay,” said Luca di Savelli; for Stefanello, stung by Montreal’s threat, which he dared not openly resent, preserved a sullen silence; “Ay, he is one noble the less to the Senator’s council.”

“You act wisely.  I know his views and temper; at present dangerous to our interests.  Yet use him well, I entreat you; he may hereafter serve us.  And now, my Lords, my eyes are weary, suffer me to retire.  Pleasant dreams of the New Revolution to us all!”

“By your leave, noble Montreal, we will attend you to your couch,” said Luca di Savelli.

“By my troth, and ye shall not.  I am no Tribune to have great Signors for my pages; but a plain gentleman, and a hardy soldier:  your attendants will conduct me to whatever chamber your hospitality assigns to one who could sleep soundly beneath the rudest hedge under your open skies.”

Savelli, however, insisted on conducting the Podesta that was to be, to his apartment.  He then returned to Stefanello, whom he found pacing the saloon with long and disordered strides.

“What have we done, Savelli?” said he, quickly; “sold our city to a barbarian!”

“Sold!” said Savelli; “to my mind it is the other part of the contract in which we have played our share.  We have bought, Colonna, not sold—­bought our lives from yon army; bought our power, our fortunes, our castles, from the Demagogue Senator; bought, what is better than all, triumph and revenge.  Tush, Colonna, see you not that if we had balked this great warrior, we had perished?  Leagued with the Senator, the Grand Company would have marched to Rome; and, whether Montreal assisted or murdered Rienzi, (for methinks he is a Romulus, who would brook no Remus), we had equally been undone.  Now, we have made our own terms, and our shares are equal.  Nay, the first steps to be taken are in our favour.  Rienzi is to be snared, and we are to enter Rome.”

“And then the Provencal is to be Despot of the city.”

“Podesta, if you please.  Podestas who offend the people are often banished, and sometimes stoned—­Podestas who insult the nobles are often stilettoed, and sometimes poisoned,” said Savelli. “’Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.’  Meanwhile, say nothing to the bear, Orsini.  Such men mar all wisdom.  Come, cheer thee, Stefanello.”