Chapter 10.V. The Discovery.
The Council was broken up - Rienzi hastened to his own apartments. Meeting
Villani by the way, he pressed the youth's hand affectionately. "You have
saved Rome and me from great peril," said he; "the saints reward you!"
Without tarrying for Villani's answer, he hurried on. Nina, anxious and
perturbed, awaited him in their chamber.
"Not a-bed yet?" said he: "fie, Nina, even thy beauty will not stand these
vigils."
"I could not rest till I had seen thee. I hear (all Rome has heard it ere
this) that thou hast seized Walter de Montreal, and that he will perish by
the headsman."
"The first robber that ever died so brave a death," returned Rienzi, slowly
unrobing himself.
"Cola, I have never crossed your schemes, - your policy, even by a
suggestion. Enough for me to triumph in their success, to mourn for their
failure. Now, I ask thee one request - spare me the life of this man."
"Nina - "
"Hear me, - for thee I speak! Despite his crimes, his valour and his
genius have gained him admirers, even amongst his foes. Many a prince,
many a state that secretly rejoices at his fall, will affect horror against
his judge. Hear me farther. His brothers aided your return; the world
will term you ungrateful. His brothers lent you monies, the world - (out
on it!) - will term you - "
"Hold!" interrupted the Senator. "All that thou sayest, my mind
forestalled. But thou knowest me - to thee I have no disguise. No compact
can bind Montreal's faith - no mercy win his gratitude. Before his red
right hand truth and justice are swept away. If I condemn Montreal I incur
disgrace and risk danger - granted. If I release him, ere the first
showers of April, the chargers of the Northmen will neigh in the halls of
the Capitol. Which shall I hazard in this alternative, myself or Rome?
Ask me no more - to bed, to bed!"
"Couldst thou read my forebodings, Cola, mystic - gloomy - unaccountable?"
"Forebodings! - I have mine," answered Rienzi, sadly, gazing on space, as
if his thoughts peopled it with spectres. Then, raising his eyes to
Heaven, he said with that fanatical energy which made much both of his
strength and weakness - "Lord, mine at least not the sin of Saul! the
Amalekite shall not be saved!"
While Rienzi enjoyed a short, troubled, and restless sleep, over which Nina
watched - unslumbering, anxious, tearful, and oppressed with dark and
terrible forewarnings - the accuser was more happy than the judge. The
last thoughts that floated before the young mind of Angelo Villani, ere
wrapped in sleep, were bright and sanguine. He felt no honourable remorse
that he had entrapped the confidence of another - he felt only that his
scheme had prospered, that his mission had been fulfilled. The grateful
words of Rienzi rang in his ear, and hopes of fortune and power, beneath
the sway of the Roman Senator, lulled him into slumber, and coloured all
his dreams.
Scarce, however, had he been two hours asleep, ere he was wakened by one of
the attendants of the palace, himself half awake. "Pardon me, Messere
Villani," said he, "but there is a messenger below from the good Sister
Ursula; he bids thee haste instantly to the Convent - she is sick unto
death, and has tidings that crave thy immediate presence."
Angelo, whose morbid susceptibility as to his parentage was ever excited by
vague but ambitious hopes - started up, dressed hurriedly, and joining the
messenger below, repaired to the Convent. In the Court of the Capitol, and
by the Staircase of the Lion, was already heard the noise of the workmen,
and looking back, Villani beheld the scaffold, hung with black - sleeping
cloudlike in the grey light of dawn - at the same time, the bell of the
Capitol tolled heavily. A pang shot athwart him. He hurried on; - despite
the immature earliness of the hour, he met groups of either sex, hastening
along the streets to witness the execution of the redoubted Captain of the
Grand Company. The Convent of the Augustines was at the farthest extremity
of that city, even then so extensive, and the red light upon the hilltops
already heralded the rising sun, ere the young man reached the venerable
porch. His name obtained him instant admittance.
"Heaven grant," said an old Nun, who conducted him through a long and
winding passage, "that thou mayst bring comfort to the sick sister: she
has pined for thee grievously since matins."
In a cell set apart for the reception of visitors (from the outward world),
to such of the Sisterhood as received the necessary dispensation, sate the
aged Nun. Angelo had only seen her once since his return to Rome, and
since then disease had made rapid havoc on her form and features. And now,
in her shroudlike garments and attenuated frame, she seemed by the morning
light as a spectre whom day had surprised above the earth. She approached
the youth, however, with a motion more elastic and rapid than seemed
possible to her worn and ghastly form. "Thou art come," she said. "Well,
well! This morning after matins, my confessor, an Augustine, who alone
knows the secrets of my life, took me aside, and told me that Walter de
Montreal had been seized by the Senator - that he was adjudged to die, and
that one of the Augustine brotherhood had been sent for to attend his last
hours - is it so?"
"Thou wert told aright," said Angelo, wonderingly. "The man at whose name
thou wert wont to shudder - against whom thou hast so often warned me -
will die at sunrise."
"So soon! - so soon! - Oh, Mother of Mercy! - fly! thou art about the
person of the Senator, thou hast high favour with him; fly! down on thy
knees, and as thou hopest for God's grace, rise not till thou hast won the
Provencal's life."
"She raves," muttered Angelo, with white lips.
"I do not rave, - boy!" screeched the Sister, wildly, "know that my
daughter was his leman. He disgraced our house, - a house haughtier than
his own. Sinner that I was, I vowed revenge. His boy - they had only one!
- was brought up in a robber's camp; - a life of bloodshed - a death of
doom - a futurity of hell - were before him. I plucked the child from such
a fate - I bore him away - I told the father he was dead - I placed him in
the path to honourable fortunes. May my sin be forgiven me! Angelo
Villani, thou art that child; - Walter de Montreal is thy father. But now,
trembling on the verge of death, I shudder at the vindictive thoughts I
once nourished. Perhaps - "
"Sinner and accursed!" interrupted Villani, with a loud shout: - "sinner
and accursed thou art indeed! Know that it was I who betrayed thy
daughter's lover! - by the son's treason dies the father!"
Not a moment more did he tarry: he waited not to witness the effect his
words produced. As one frantic - as one whom a fiend possesses or pursues
- he rushed from the Convent - he flew through the desolate streets. The
death-bell came, first indistinct, then loud, upon his ear. Every sound
seemed to him like the curse of God; on - on - he passed the more deserted
quarter - crowds swept before him - he was mingled with the living stream,
delayed, pushed back - thousands on thousands around, before him.
Breathless, gasping, he still pressed on - he forced his way - he heard not
- he saw not - all was like a dream. Up burst the sun over the distant
hills! - the bell ceased! From right to left he pushed aside the crowd -
his strength was as a giant's. He neared the fatal spot. A dead hush lay
like a heavy air over the multitude. He heard a voice, as he pressed
along, deep and clear - it was the voice of his father! - it ceased - the
audience breathed heavily - they murmured - they swayed to and fro. On,
on, went Angelo Villani. The guards of the Senator stopped his way; - he
dashed aside their pikes - he eluded their grasp - he pierced the armed
barrier - he stood on the Place of the Capitol. "Hold, hold!" he would
have cried - but horror struck him dumb. He beheld the gleaming axe - he
saw the bended neck. Ere another breath passed his lips, a ghastly and
trunkless face was raised on high - Walter de Montreal was no more!
Villani saw - swooned not - shrunk not - breathed not! - but he turned his
eyes from that lifted head, dropping gore, to the balcony, in which,
according to custom, sate, in solemn pomp, the Senator of Rome - and the
face of that young man was as the face of a demon!
"Ha!" said he, muttering to himself, and recalling the words of Rienzi
seven years before - "Blessed art thou who hast no blood of kindred to
avenge!"
