“Beware,” he whispered, “the least sign of fraud, and thou art the first victim!”
The assassin nodded again, and proceeded. They entered the room; and then the Tribune’s strange guide pointed to an open casement. “Behold my entrance,” said he; “and, if you permit me, my egress—”
“The frog gets not out of the well so easily as he came in, friend,” returned Rienzi, smiling. “And now, if I am not to call my guards, what am I to do with thee!”
“Let me go, and I will seek thee tomorrow; and if thou payest me handsomely, and promisest not to harm limb or life, I will put thine enemies and my employers in thy power.”
Rienzi could not refrain from a slight laugh at the proposition, but composing himself, replied—“And what if I call my attendants, and give thee to their charge?”
“Thou givest me to those very enemies and employers; and in despair lest I betray them, ere the day dawn they cut my throat—or thine.”
“Methinks knave, I have seen thee before.”
“Thou hast. I blush not for name or country. I am Rodolf of Saxony!”
“I remember me:—servitor of Walter de Montreal. He, then, is thy instigator!”
“Roman, no! That noble Knight scorns other weapon than the open sword, and his own hand slays his own foes. Your pitiful, miserable, dastard Italians, alone employ the courage, and hire the arm, of others.”