"It is not money that we need," said the Consul Oberto, a worthy old man, with a snowy beard; "it is not money, for the richest bribes would fail to get an ounce of bread through the gates. The Emperor's blockade is too rigidly enforced, and all attempts to force it have proved a bloody failure."
"Perhaps it would be advisable," said Galdini, "to put the people on rations. So far they have eaten and drunk as though the supply were inexhaustible."
"I am surprised," replied Oberto, "that a man of your shrewdness could propose such a measure. The courage of the people would quail at the bare possibility of a danger to which hitherto they have not given a thought. And," he continued, in a lower tone, "you know well its fickleness, and how little it requires to bring about the most fearful results. The simple report of a defeat excited an insurrection some years ago, in which the Milanese destroyed the palace of a man who had sacrificed everything in the cause of liberty. With even a distant prospect of famine, the citizens would begin to murmur, and probably rise in open mutiny, for they would think it better to wear the yoke of Barbarossa than to die of starvation."
Sala was too just, too practical, to question the reality of the picture.
"Our future looks gloomy," said Nigri. "Should famine begin to decimate our ranks, we shall be obliged to capitulate, and it may perhaps be advisable not to await the last moment. The Emperor might take into consideration our voluntary surrender, and grant us more favorable terms. I propose to open negotiations with him immediately."
The archdeacon opened his eyes with astonishment at Nigri's proposal.
"Open negotiations with Frederic," he cried; "and on what basis?"
"On the most equitable basis," said Oberto; "he who surrenders willingly, always has less to suffer from the conqueror."
"You make a very grave mistake, my lord!" said Galdini; "there is no possible compromise with the tyrant; offer to him the enjoyment of all your rights; abandon all the revenues of the principality, nothing will suffice him."
"But what does he want then?" inquired Cino, the consul of the workmen, a man of rough manners and herculean build, but of very limited intelligence. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Galdini could not repress a smile, as he answered,--