“Fairer art thou and lovelier than ever,” answered Adrian, passionately; “and time, which has ripened thy bloom, has but taught me more deeply to feel thy value. Farewell, Irene, I linger here no longer; thou wilt, I trust, hear soon of my success with my House, and ere the week be over I may return to claim thy hand in the face of day.”
The lovers parted; Adrian lingered on the spot, and Irene hastened to bury her emotion and her raptures in her own chamber.
As her form vanished, and the young Colonna slowly turned away, a tall mask strode abruptly towards him.
“Thou art a Colonna,” it said, “and in the power of the Senator. Dost thou tremble?”
“If I be a Colonna, rude masker,” answered Adrian, coldly, “thou shouldst know the old proverb, ‘He who stirs the column, shall rue the fall.’”
The stranger laughed aloud, and then lifting his mask, Adrian saw that it was the Senator who stood before him.
“My Lord Adrian di Castello,” said Rienzi, resuming all his gravity, “is it as friend or foe that you have honoured our revels this night?”
“Senator of Rome,” answered Adrian, with equal stateliness, “I partake of no man’s hospitality but as a friend. A foe, at least to you, I trust never justly to be esteemed.”
“I would,” rejoined Rienzi, “that I could apply to myself unreservedly that most flattering speech. Are these friendly feelings entertained towards me as the Governor of the Roman people, or as the brother of the woman who has listened to your vows?”
Adrian, who when the Senator had unmasked had followed his example, felt at these words that his eye quailed beneath Rienzi’s. However, he recovered himself with the wonted readiness of an Italian, and replied laconically,