“Quick, my Lord,” said the Northman, “on all sides they come!” So saying, he bounded down the descent with his burthen.  Adrian followed with Nina; the Senator paused one moment, turned back, and was in his room ere Adrian was aware that he had vanished.

Hastily he drew the coverlid from his bed, fastened it to the casement bars, and by its aid dropped (at a distance of several feet) into the balcony below.  “I will not die like a rat,” said he, “in the trap they have set for me!  The whole crowd shall, at least, see and hear me.”

This was the work of a moment.

Meanwhile, Nina had scarcely proceeded six paces, before she discovered that she was alone with Adrian.

“Ha!  Cola!” she cried, “where is he? he has gone!”

“Take heart, Lady, he has returned but for some secret papers he has forgotten.  He will follow us anon.”

“Let us wait, then.”

“Lady,” said Adrian, grinding his teeth, “hear you not the crowd?—­on, on!” and he flew with a swifter step.  Nina struggled in his grasp—­Love gave her the strength of despair.  With a wild laugh she broke from him.  She flew back—­the door was closed—­but unbarred—­her trembling hands lingered a moment round the spring.  She opened it, drew the heavy bolt across the panels, and frustrated all attempt from Adrian to regain her.  She was on the stairs,—­she was in the room.  Rienzi was gone!  She fled, shrieking his name, through the State Chambers—­all was desolate.  She found the doors opening on the various passages that admitted to the rooms below barred without.  Breathless and gasping, she returned to the chamber.  She hurried to the casement—­she perceived the method by which he had descended below—­her brave heart told her of his brave design;—­she saw they were separated,—­“But the same roof holds us,” she cried, joyously, “and our fate shall be the same!” With that thought she sank in mute patience on the floor.

Forming the generous resolve not to abandon the faithful and devoted pair without another effort, Adrian had followed Nina, but too late—­the door was closed against his efforts.  The crowd marched on—­he heard their cry change on a sudden—­it was no longer “Live the people!” but “Death to the traitor!” His attendant had already disappeared, and waking now only to the danger of Irene, the Colonna in bitter grief turned away, lightly sped down the descent, and hastened to the riverside, where the boat and his band awaited him.

The balcony on which Rienzi had alighted was that from which he had been accustomed to address the people—­it communicated with a vast hall used on solemn occasions for State festivals—­and on either side were square projecting towers, whose grated casements looked into the balcony.  One of these towers was devoted to the armory, the other contained the prison of Brettone, the brother of Montreal.  Beyond the latter tower was the general prison of the Capitol.  For then the prison and the palace were in awful neighbourhood!