“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.”
“I do not disguise from you, Sir Knight,” answered Adrian, “that when my present embassy is over, I trust the alliance between the Tribune and a Colonna will go far towards the benefit of both.”
“I have heard rightly, then,” said Montreal, in a grave and thoughtful tone. “Rienzi’s power must, indeed, be great.”
“Of that my mission is a proof. Are you aware, Signor de Montreal, that Louis, King of Hungary—”
“How! what of him?”