land, had only to exhibit bravery in order to command wealth.  It was considered no disgrace for some powerful chieftain to collect together a band of these hardy aliens,—­to subsist amidst the mountains on booty and pillage,—­to make war upon tyrant or republic, as interest suggested, and to sell, at enormous stipends, the immunities of peace.  Sometimes they hired themselves to one state to protect it against the other; and the next year beheld them in the field against their former employers.  These bands of Northern stipendiaries assumed, therefore, a civil, as well as a military, importance; they were as indispensable to the safety of one state as they were destructive to the security of all.  But five years before the present date, the Florentine Republic had hired the services of a celebrated leader of these foreign soldiers,—­Gualtier, duke of Athens.  By acclamation, the people themselves had elected that warrior to the state of prince, or tyrant, of their state; before the year was completed, they revolted against his cruelties, or rather against his exactions,—­for, despite all the boasts of their historians, they felt an attack on their purses more deeply than an assault on their liberties,—­they had chased him from their city, and once more proclaimed themselves a Republic.  The bravest, and most favoured of the soldiers of the Duke of Athens had been Walter de Montreal; he had shared the rise and the downfall of his chief.  Amongst popular commotions, the acute and observant mind of the Knight of St. John had learned no mean civil experience; he had learned to sound a people—­to know how far they would endure—­to construe the signs of revolution—­to be a reader of the times.  After the downfall of the Duke of Athens, as a Free Companion, in other words a Freebooter, Montreal had augmented under the fierce Werner his riches and his renown.  At present without employment worthy his spirit of enterprise and intrigue, the disordered and chiefless state of Rome had attracted him thither.  In the league he had proposed to Colonna—­in the suggestions he had made to the vanity of that Signor—­his own object was to render his services indispensable—­to constitute himself the head of the soldiery whom his proposed designs would render necessary to the ambition of the Colonna, could it be excited—­and, in the vastness of his hardy genius for enterprise, he probably foresaw that the command of such a force would be, in reality, the command of Rome;—­a counter-revolution might easily unseat the Colonna and elect himself to the principality.  It had sometimes been the custom of Roman, as of other Italian, States, to prefer for a chief magistrate, under the title of Podesta, a foreigner to a native.  And Montreal hoped that he might possibly become to Rome what the Duke of Athens had been to Florence—­an ambition he knew well enough to be above the gentleman of Provence, but not above the leader of an army.  But, as we have already seen, his sagacity perceived