Montreal spoke first, and with a forced smile.

“Senator of Rome!—­dare I believe that my poor banquet tempts thee, and may I trust that these armed men are a graceful compliment to one to whom arms have been a pastime?”

Rienzi answered not, but waved his hand to his guards.  Montreal was seized on the instant.  Again he surveyed the guests—­as a bird from the rattle-snake,—­shrunk Pandulfo di Guido, trembling, motionless, aghast, from the glittering eye of the Senator.  Slowly Rienzi raised his fatal hand towards the unhappy citizen—­Pandulfo saw,—­felt his doom,—­shrieked,—­and fell senseless in the arms of the soldiers.

One other and rapid glance cast the Senator round the board, and then, with a disdainful smile, as if anxious for no meaner prey, turned away.  Not a breath had hitherto passed his lips—­all had been dumb show—­and his grim silence had imparted a more freezing terror to his unguessed-for apparition.  Only, when he reached the door, he turned back, gazed upon the Knight of St. John’s bold and undaunted face, and said, almost in a whisper, “Walter de Montreal!—­you heard the death-knell!”

Chapter 10.IV.  The Sentence of Walter de Montreal.

In silence the Captain of the Grand Company was borne to the prison of the Capitol.  In the same building lodged the rivals for the government of Rome; the one occupied the prison, the other the palace.  The guards forebore the ceremony of fetters, and leaving a lamp on the table, Montreal perceived he was not alone,—­his brothers had preceded him.

“Ye are happily met,” said the Knight of St. John; “we have passed together pleasanter nights than this is likely to be.”

“Can you jest, Walter?” said Arimbaldo, half-weeping.  “Know you not that our doom is fixed?  Death scowls upon us.”

“Death!” repeated Montreal, and for the first time his countenance changed; perhaps for the first time in his life he felt the thrill and agony of fear.

“Death!” he repeated again.  “Impossible!  He dare not, Brettone; the soldiers, the Northmen!—­they will mutiny, they will pluck us back from the grasp of the headsman!”

“Cast from you so vain a hope,” said Brettone sullenly; “the soldiers are encamped at Palestrina.”

“How!  Dolt—­fool!  Came you then to Rome alone!  Are we alone with this dread man?”

“You are the dolt!  Why came you hither?” answered the brother.

“Why, indeed! but that I knew thou wast the Captain of the army; and—­but thou said’st right—­the folly is mine, to have played against the crafty Tribune so unequal a brain as thine.  Enough!  Reproaches are idle.  When were ye arrested?”

“At dusk—­the instant we entered the gates of Rome.  Rienzi entered privately.”

“Humph!  What can he know against me?  Who can have betrayed me?  My secretaries are tried—­all trustworthy—­except that youth, and he so seemingly zealous—­that Angelo Villani!”