Rienzi was almost unmanned. Emotions, deep, conflicting, unspeakably fond and grateful, literally choked his speech.
“What!” cried Nina, clinging to his breast, and parting her hair from her eyes, as she sought his averted face. “Part!—never! This is my place—all Rome shall not tear me from it!”
Adrian, in despair, seized her hand, and attempted to drag her thence.
“Touch me not, sir!” said Nina, waving her arm with angry majesty, while her eyes sparkled as a lioness, whom the huntsmen would sever from her young. “I am the wife of Cola di Rienzi, the Great Senator of Rome, and by his side will I live and die!”
“Take her hence: quick!—quick! I hear the crowd advancing.”
Irene tore herself from Adrian, and fell at the feet of Rienzi—she clasped his knees.
“Come, my brother, come! Why lose these precious moments? Rome forbids you to cast away a life in which her very self is bound up.”
“Right, Irene; Rome is bound up with me, and we will rise or fall together!—no more!”
“You destroy us all!” said Adrian, with generous and impatient warmth. “A few minutes more, and we are lost. Rash man! it is not to fall by an infuriate mob that you have been preserved from so many dangers.”
“I believe it,” said the Senator, as his tall form seemed to dilate as with the greatness of his own soul. “I shall triumph yet! Never shall mine enemies—never shall posterity say that a second time Rienzi abandoned Rome! Hark! ‘Viva ‘l Popolo!’ still the cry of ‘THE PEOPLE.’ That cry scares none but tyrants! I shall triumph and survive!”