He returned to his room—Nina had already gone to rouse and prepare Irene, whose chamber was on the other side, within one of their own.
“Quick, Senator!” said Adrian. “Methinks there is yet time. We must make across to the Tiber. I have stationed my faithful squires and Northmen there. A boat waits us.”
“Hark!” interrupted Rienzi, whose senses had of late been preternaturally quickened. “I hear a distant shout—a familiar shout, ‘Viva ‘l Popolo!’ Why, so say I! These must be friends.”
“Deceive not thyself; thou hast scarce a friend at Rome.”
“Hist!” said Rienzi, in a whisper; “save Nina—save Irene. I cannot accompany thee.”
“Art thou mad?”
“No! but fearless. Besides, did I accompany, I might but destroy you all. Were I found with you, you would be massacred with me. Without me ye are safe. Yes, even the Senator’s wife and sister have provoked no revenge. Save them, noble Colonna! Cola di Rienzi puts his trust in God alone!”
By this time Nina had returned; Irene with her. Afar was heard the tramp—steady—slow—gathering—of the fatal multitude.
“Now, Cola,” said Nina, with a bold and cheerful air, and she took her husband’s arm, while Adrian had already found his charge in Irene.
“Yes, now, Nina!” said Rienzi; “at length we part! If this is my last hour—in my last hour I pray God to bless and shield thee! for verily, thou hast been my exceeding solace—provident as a parent, tender as a child, the smile of my hearth, the—the—”