A soldier (one of his own) seized him.  “Pass not—­whither goest thou?”

“Beware, lest the Senator escape disguised!” cried a voice behind—­it was Villani’s.  The concealing load was torn from his head—­Rienzi stood revealed!

“I am the Senator!” he said in a loud voice.  “Who dare touch the Representative of the People?”

The multitude were round him in an instant.  Not led, but rather hurried and whirled along, the Senator was borne to the Place of the Lion.  With the intense glare of the bursting flames, the grey image reflected a lurid light, and glowed—­(that grim and solemn monument!)—­as if itself of fire!

There arrived, the crowd gave way, terrified by the greatness of their victim.  Silent he stood, and turned his face around; nor could the squalor of his garb, nor the terror of the hour, nor the proud grief of detection, abate the majesty of his mien, or reassure the courage of the thousands who gathered, gazing, round him.  The whole Capitol wrapped in fire, lighted with ghastly pomp the immense multitude.  Down the long vista of the streets extended the fiery light and the serried throng, till the crowd closed with the gleaming standards of the Colonna—­the Orsini—­the Savelli!  Her true tyrants were marching into Rome!  As the sound of their approaching horns and trumpets broke upon the burning air, the mob seemed to regain their courage.  Rienzi prepared to speak; his first word was as the signal of his own death.

“Die, tyrant!” cried Cecco del Vecchio:  and he plunged his dagger in the Senator’s breast.

“Die, executioner of Montreal!” muttered Villani:  “thus the trust is fulfilled!” and his was the second stroke.  Then as he drew back, and saw the artisan in all the drunken fury of his brute passion, tossing up his cap, shouting aloud, and spurning the fallen lion,—­the young man gazed upon him with a look of withering and bitter scorn, and said, while he sheathed his blade, and slowly turned to quit the crowd,

“Fool, miserable fool! thou and these at least had no blood of kindred to avenge!”

They heeded not his words—­they saw him not depart; for as Rienzi, without a word, without a groan, fell to the earth,—­as the roaring waves of the multitude closed over him,—­a voice, shrill, sharp, and wild, was heard above all the clamour.  At the casement of the Palace, (the casement of her bridal chamber,) Nina stood!—­through the flames that burst below and around, her face and outstretched arms alone visible!  Ere yet the sound of that thrilling cry passed from the air, down with a mighty crash thundered that whole wing of the Capitol,—­a blackened and smouldering mass.

At that hour, a solitary boat was gliding swiftly along the Tiber.  Rome was at a distance, but the lurid blow of the conflagration cast its reflection upon the placid and glassy stream:  fair beyond description was the landscape; soft beyond all art of Painter and of Poet, the sunlight quivering over the autumnal herbage, and hushing into tender calm the waves of the golden River!