“And thou hast to prepare thy thoughts,” she whispered to Rienzi: “arm all thy glorious intellect. Alas! is it again we part? How my heart sinks!”
The presence of the gaoler at the threshold broke the bitterness of parting by abridging it. The false page pressed her lips on the prisoner’s hand, and left the cell.
The gaoler, lingering behind for a moment, placed a parchment on the table. It was the summons from the court appointed for the trial of the Tribune.
Chapter 7.VI. The Scent Does Not Lie.—The Priest and the Soldier.
On descending the stairs, Nina was met by Alvarez.
“Fair page,” said the Spaniard, gaily, “thy name, thou tellest me, is Villani?—Angelo Villani—why I know thy kinsman, methinks. Vouchsafe, young master, to enter this chamber, and drink a night-cup to thy lady’s health; I would fain learn tidings of my old friends.”
“At another time,” answered the false Angelo, drawing the cloak closer round her face; “it is late—I am hurried.”
“Nay,” said the Spaniard, “you escape me not so easily;” and he caught firm hold of the page’s shoulder.
“Unhand me, sir!” said Nina, haughtily, and almost weeping, for her strong nerves were yet unstrung. “Gaoler, at thy peril—unbar the gates.”