certain pride which she derived from conscious, though forfeited, rank, gave to the outward manner of that beautiful lady an ease and freedom which often concealed, even from Montreal, her sensitiveness to her unhappy situation.  At times, indeed, when alone with Montreal, whom she loved with all the devotion of romance, she was sensible only to the charm of a presence which consoled her for all things; but in his frequent absence, or on the admission of any stranger, the illusion vanished—­the reality returned.  Poor lady!  Nature had not formed, education had not reared, habit had not reconciled, her to the breath of shame!

The young Colonna was much struck by her beauty, and more by her gentle and highborn grace.  Like her lord she appeared younger than she was; time seemed to spare a bloom which an experienced eye might have told was destined to an early grave; and there was something almost girlish in the lightness of her form—­the braided luxuriance of her rich auburn hair, and the colour that went and came, not only with every moment, but almost with every word.  The contrast between her and Montreal became them both—­it was the contrast of devoted reliance and protecting strength:  each looked fairer in the presence of the other:  and as Adrian sate down to the well-laden board, he thought he had never seen a pair more formed for the poetic legends of their native Troubadours.

Montreal conversed gaily upon a thousand matters—­pressed the wine flasks—­and selected for his guest the most delicate portions of the delicious spicola of the neighbouring sea, and the rich flesh of the wild boar of the Pontine Marshes.

“Tell me,” said Montreal, as their hunger was now appeased—­“tell me, noble Adrian, how fares your kinsman, Signor Stephen?  A brave old man for his years.”

“He bears him as the youngest of us,” answered Adrian.

“Late events must have shocked him a little,” said Montreal, with an arch smile.  “Ah, you look grave—­yet commend my foresight;—­I was the first who prophesied to thy kinsman the rise of Cola di Rienzi; he seems a great man—­never more great than in conciliating the Colonna and the Orsini.”

“The Tribune,” returned Adrian, evasively, “is certainly a man of extraordinary genius.  And now, seeing him command, my only wonder is how he ever brooked to obey—­majesty seems a very part of him.”

“Men who win power, easily put on its harness, dignity,” answered Montreal; “and if I hear aright—­(pledge me to your lady’s health)—­the Tribune, if not himself nobly born will soon be nobly connected.”

“He is already married to a Raselli, an old Roman house,” replied Adrian.

“You evade my pursuit,—­Le doulx soupir! le doulx soupir! as the old Cabestan has it”—­said Montreal, laughing.  “Well, you have pledged me one cup to your lady, pledge another to the fair Irene, the Tribune’s sister—­always provided they two are not one.—­You smile and shake your head.”