But the force was very inadequate to the enterprise; and Albornoz depended much upon the moral strength of the cause in bringing recruits to his standard in his progress through the Italian states.  The wonderful rise of Rienzi had excited an extraordinary enthusiasm in his favour through all the free populations of Italy.  And this had been yet more kindled and inflamed by the influential eloquence of Petrarch, who, at that time, possessed of a power greater than ever, before or since, (not even excepting the Sage of Ferney,) wielded by a single literary man, had put forth his boldest genius in behalf of the Roman Tribune.  Such a companion as Rienzi in the camp of the Cardinal might be a magnet of attraction to the youth and enterprise of Italy.  On nearing Rome, he might himself judge how far it would be advisable to reinstate Rienzi as a delegate of the papal power.  And, in the meanwhile, the Roman’s influence might be serviceable, whether to awe the rebellious nobles or conciliate the stubborn people.  On the other hand, the Cardinal was shrewd enough to perceive that no possible good could arise from Rienzi’s present confinement.  With every month it excited deeper and more universal sympathy.  To his lonely dungeon turned half the hearts of republican Italy.  Literature had leagued its new and sudden, and therefore mighty and even disproportioned, power with his cause; and the Pope, without daring to be his judge, incurred the odium of being his gaoler.  “A popular prisoner,” said the sagacious Cardinal to himself, “is the most dangerous of guests.  Restore him as your servant, or destroy him as your foe!  In this case I see no alternative but acquittal or the knife!” In these reflections that able plotter, deep in the Machiavelism of the age, divorced the lover from the statesman.

Recurring now to the former character, he felt some disagreeable and uneasy forebodings at the earnest interest of his mistress.  Fain would he have attributed, either to some fantasy of patriotism or some purpose of revenge, the anxiety of the Cesarini; and there was much in her stern and haughty character which favoured that belief.  But he was forced to acknowledge to himself some jealous apprehension of a sinister and latent motive, which touched his vanity and alarmed his love.  “Howbeit,” he thought, as he turned from his unwilling fear, “I can play with her at her own weapons; I can obtain the release of Rienzi, and claim my reward.  If denied, the hand that opened the dungeon can again rivet the chain.  In her anxiety is my power!”

These thoughts the Cardinal was still revolving in his palace, when he was suddenly summoned to attend the Pontiff.

The pontifical palace no longer exhibited the gorgeous yet graceful luxury of Clement vi., and the sarcastic Cardinal smiled to himself at the quiet gloom of the ante-chambers.  “He thinks to set an example—­this poor native of Limoges!” thought Albornoz; “and has but the mortification of finding himself eclipsed by the poorest bishop.  He humbles himself, and fancies that the humility will be contagious.”