yet but slightly wrinkled, was completely bald at the temples; and by its unwonted height, increased the dignity and manliness of his aspect.  The bloom of his complexion was faded, less by outward exposure than inward thought, into a bronzed and settled paleness; and his features seemed more marked and prominent, as the flesh had somewhat sunk from the contour of the cheek.  Yet the change suited the change of age and circumstance; and if the Provencal now less realised the idea of the brave and fair knight-errant, he but looked the more what the knight-errant had become—­the sagacious counsellor and the mighty leader.

“You must be aware,” said Montreal, continuing a discourse which appeared to have made great impression on his companions, “that in this contest between yourselves and the Senator, I alone hold the balance.  Rienzi is utterly in my power—­my brothers, the leaders of his army; myself, his creditor.  It rests with me to secure him on the throne, or to send him to the scaffold.  I have but to give the order, and the Grand Company enter Rome; but without their agency, methinks if you keep faith with me, our purpose can be effected.”

“In the meanwhile, Palestrina is besieged by your brothers!” said Stefanello, sharply.

“But they have my orders to waste their time before its walls.  Do you not see, that by this very siege, fruitless, as, if I will, it shall be, Rienzi loses fame abroad, and popularity in Rome.”

“Sir Knight,” said Luca di Savelli, “you speak as a man versed in the profound policy of the times; and under all the circumstances which menace us, your proposal seems but fitting and reasonable.  On the one hand, you undertake to restore us and the other Barons to Rome; and to give Rienzi to the Staircase of the Lion—­”

“Not so, not so,” replied Montreal, quickly.  “I will consent either so to subdue and cripple his power, as to render him a puppet in our hands, a mere shadow of authority—­or, if his proud spirit chafe at its cage, to give it once more liberty amongst the wilds of Germany.  I would fetter or banish him, but not destroy; unless (added Montreal, after a moment’s pause) fate absolutely drives us to it.  Power should not demand victims; but to secure it, victims may be necessary.”

“I understand your refinements,” said Luca di Savelli, with his icy smile, “and am satisfied.  The Barons once restored, our palaces once more manned, and I am willing to take the chance of the Senator’s longevity.  This service you promise to effect?”

“I do.”

“And, in return, you demand our assent to your enjoying the rank of Podesta for five years?”

“You say right.”

“I, for one, accede to the terms,” said the Savelli:  “there is my hand; I am wearied of these brawls, even amongst ourselves, and think that a Foreign Ruler may best enforce order:  the more especially, if like you, Sir Knight, one whose birth and renown are such as to make him comprehend the difference between Barons and Plebeians.”