“Than a Tartar camp, and a brigand’s castle,” interrupted Montreal, with some impatience.  “This you were about to say—­you are mistaken.  Society thrust me from her bosom; let society take the fruit it hath sown.  ’A fixed rank,’ say you? some subaltern office, to fight at other men’s command!  You know me not:  Walter de Montreal was not formed to obey.  War when I will, and rest when I list, is the motto of my escutcheon.  Ambition proffers me rewards you wot not of; and I am of the mould as of the race of those whose swords have conquered thrones.  For the rest, your news of the alliance of Louis of Hungary with your Tribune makes it necessary for the friend of Louis to withdraw from all feud with Rome.  Ere the week expire, the owl and the bat may seek refuge in yon grey turrets.”

“But your lady?”

“Is inured to change.—­God help her, and temper the rough wind to the lamb!”

“Enough, Sir Knight:  but should you desire a sure refuge at Rome for one so gentle and so highborn, by the right hand of a knight, I promise a safe roof and an honoured home to the Lady Adeline.”

Montreal pressed the offered hand to his heart; then plucking his own hastily away, drew it across his eyes, and joined Adeline, in a silence that showed he dared not trust himself to speak.  In a few moments Adrian and his train were on the march; but still the young Colonna turned back, to gaze once more on his wild host and that lovely lady, as they themselves lingered on the moonlit sward, while the sea rippled mournfully on their ears.

It was not many months after that date, that the name of Fra Monreale scattered terror and dismay throughout the fair Campania.  The right hand of the Hungarian king, in his invasion of Naples, he was chosen afterwards vicar (or vice-gerent) of Louis in Aversa; and fame and fate seemed to lead him triumphantly along that ambitious career which he had elected, whether bounded by the scaffold or the throne.

BOOK IV.  THE TRIUMPH AND THE POMP.

     “Allora fama e paura di si buono reggimento, passa in ogni
     terra.”—­“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. cap. 21.

     “Then the fame and the fear of that so good government
     passed into every land.”—­“Life of Cola di Rienzi”.

Chapter 4.I.  The Boy Angelo—­the Dream of Nina Fulfilled.

The thread of my story transports us back to Rome.  It was in a small chamber, in a ruinous mansion by the base of Mount Aventine, that a young boy sate, one evening, with a woman of a tall and stately form, but somewhat bowed both by infirmity and years.  The boy was of a fair and comely presence; and there was that in his bold, frank, undaunted carriage, which made him appear older than he was.

The old woman, seated in the recess of the deep window, was apparently occupied with a Bible that lay open on her knees; but ever and anon she lifted her eyes, and gazed on her young companion with a sad and anxious expression.