Rienzi, the Last of the Roman Tribunes. Эдвард Бульвер-Литтон

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СКАЧАТЬ the wars, not wantonly to draw against me a blade which I have seen wielded against such odds.”

      Touched, despite himself, by the courtesy of the Knight, and the allusion to a scene in which, perhaps, his life had been preserved by Montreal, Adrian extended his hand to the latter.

      “I was to blame for my haste,” said he, frankly; “but know, by my very heat,” he added more gravely, “that your project will find no friends among the Colonna. Nay, in the presence of my noble kinsman, I dare to tell you, that could even his high sanction lend itself to such a scheme, the best hearts of his house would desert him; and I myself, his kinsman, would man yonder castle against so unnatural an ambition!”

      A slight and scarce perceptible cloud passed over Montreal’s countenance at these words; and he bit his lip ere he replied:

      “Yet if the Orsini be less scrupulous, their first exertion of power would be heard in the crashing house of the Colonna.”

      “Know you,” returned Adrian, “that one of our mottoes is this haughty address to the Romans,—‘If we fall, ye fall also?’ And better that fate, than a rise upon the wrecks of our native city.”

      “Well, well, well!” said Montreal, reseating himself, “I see that I must leave Rome to herself,—the League must thrive without her aid. I did but jest, touching the Orsini, for they have not the power that would make their efforts safe. Let us sweep, then, our past conference from our recollection. It is the nineteenth, I think, Lord Colonna, on which you propose to repair to Corneto, with your friends and retainers, and on which you have invited my attendance?”

      “It is on that day, Sir Knight,” replied the Baron, evidently much relieved by the turn the conversation had assumed. “The fact is, that we have been so charged with indifference to the interests of the good people, that I strain a point in this expedition to contradict the assertion; and we propose, therefore, to escort and protect, against the robbers of the road, a convoy of corn to Corneto. In truth, I may add another reason, besides fear of the robbers, that makes me desire as numerous a train as possible. I wish to show my enemies, and the people generally, the solid and growing power of my house; the display of such an armed band as I hope to levy, will be a magnificent occasion to strike awe into the riotous and refractory. Adrian, you will collect your servitors, I trust, on that day; we would not be without you.”

      “And as we ride along, fair Signor,” said Montreal, inclining to Adrian, “we will find at least one subject on which we can agree: all brave men and true knights have one common topic,—and its name is Woman. You must make me acquainted with the names of the fairest dames of Rome; and we will discuss old adventures in the Parliament of Love, and hope for new. By the way, I suppose, Lord Adrian, you, with the rest of your countrymen, are Petrarch-stricken?”

      “Do you not share our enthusiasm? slur not so your gallantry, I pray you.”

      “Come, we must not again disagree; but, by my halidame, I think one troubadour roundel worth all that Petrarch ever wrote. He has but borrowed from our knightly poesy, to disguise it, like a carpet coxcomb.”

      “Well,” said Adrian, gaily, “for every line of the troubadours that you quote, I will cite you another. I will forgive you for injustice to Petrarch, if you are just to the troubadours.”

      “Just!” cried Montreal, with real enthusiasm: “I am of the land, nay the very blood of the troubadour! But we grow too light for your noble kinsman; and it is time for me to bid you, for the present, farewell. My Lord Colonna, peace be with you; farewell, Sir Adrian,—brother mine in knighthood,—remember your challenge.”

      And with an easy and careless grace the Knight of St. John took his leave. The old Baron, making a dumb sign of excuse to Adrian, followed Montreal into the adjoining room.

      “Sir Knight!” said he, “Sir Knight!” as he closed the door upon Adrian, and then drew Montreal to the recess of the casement,—“a word in your ear. Think not I slight your offer, but these young men must be managed; the plot is great—noble,—grateful to my heart; but it requires time and caution. I have many of my house, scrupulous as yon hot-skull, to win over; the way is pleasant, but must be sounded well and carefully; you understand?”

      From under his bent brows, Montreal darted one keen glance at Stephen, and then answered:

      “My friendship for you dictated my offer. The League may stand without the Colonna,—beware a time when the Colonna cannot stand without the League. My Lord, look well around you; there are more freemen—ay, bold and stirring ones, too—in Rome, than you imagine. Beware Rienzi! Adieu, we meet soon again.”

      Thus saying, Montreal departed, soliloquising as he passed with his careless step through the crowded ante-room:

      “I shall fail here!—these caitiff nobles have neither the courage to be great, nor the wisdom to be honest. Let them fall!—I may find an adventurer from the people, an adventurer like myself, worth them all.”

      No sooner had Stephen returned to Adrian than he flung his arms affectionately round his ward, who was preparing his pride for some sharp rebuke for his petulance.

      “Nobly feigned,—admirable, admirable!” cried the Baron; “you have learned the true art of a statesman at the Emperor’s court. I always thought you would—always said it. You saw the dilemma I was in, thus taken by surprise by that barbarian’s mad scheme; afraid to refuse,—more afraid to accept. You extricated me with consummate address: that passion,—so natural to your age,—was a famous feint; drew off the attack; gave me time to breathe; allowed me to play with the savage. But we must not offend him, you know: all my retainers would desert me, or sell me to the Orsini, or cut my throat, if he but held up his finger. Oh! it was admirably managed, Adrian—admirably!”

      “Thank Heaven!” said Adrian, with some difficulty recovering the breath which his astonishment had taken away, “you do not think of embracing that black proposition?”

      “Think of it! no, indeed!” said Stephen, throwing himself back on his chair. “Why, do you not know my age, boy? Hard on my ninetieth year, I should be a fool indeed to throw myself into such a whirl of turbulence and agitation. I want to keep what I have, not risk it by grasping more. Am I not the beloved of the pope? shall I hazard his excommunication? Am I not the most powerful of the nobles? should I be more if I were king? At my age, to talk to me of such stuff!—the man’s an idiot. Besides,” added the old man, sinking his voice, and looking fearfully round, “if I were a king, my sons might poison me for the succession. They are good lads, Adrian, very! But such a temptation!—I would not throw it in their way; these grey hairs have experience! Tyrants don’t die a natural death; no, no! Plague on the Knight, say I; he has already cast me into a cold sweat.”

      Adrian gazed on the working features of the old man, whose selfishness thus preserved him from crime. He listened to his concluding words—full of the dark truth of the times; and as the high and pure ambition of Rienzi flashed upon him in contrast, he felt that he could not blame its fervour, or wonder at its excess.

      “And then, too,” resumed the Baron, speaking more deliberately as he recovered his self-possession, “this man, by way of a warning, shows me, at a glance, his whole ignorance of the state. What think you? he has mingled with the mob, and taken their rank breath for power; yes, he thinks words are soldiers, and bade me—me, Stephen Colonna—beware—of whom, think you? No, you will never guess!—of that speech-maker, Rienzi! my own old jesting guest! Ha! ha! ha!—the ignorance of these barbarians! Ha! ha! ha! and the old man laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.

      “Yet many of the nobles fear that same Rienzi,” said Adrian, gravely.

      “Ah! СКАЧАТЬ