rains
of thanksgiving, the cardinal appears at the church door,
barring their entrance, and solemnly pronounces the Church's
anathema upon the horror-struck Rienzi.

The people all start back and withdraw from him as from one
accursed, while Adrian, seizing Irene's hand, seeks to lead
her away from her brother. But the brave girl resists her
lover's offers and entreaties, and, clinging closely to the
unhappy Tribune, she declares she will never forsake him,
while he vows he will never relinquish his hope that Rome may
eventually recover her wonted freedom, and again shake off the
tyrant's yoke.

The fifth and last act is begun in the Capitol, where Rienzi,
the enthusiast, is wrapped in prayer, and forgetting himself
entirely, fervently implores Divine protection for his misguided
people and unhappy city. He has scarcely ended this beautiful
prayer when Irene joins him, and, when he once more beseeches
her to leave him, she declares she will never forsake him,
even though by clinging to him she must renounce her love,--a
passion which he has never known. At this declaration, Rienzi in
a passionate outburst tells how deeply he has loved and still
loves his mistress, Rome, fallen and degraded though she may
be. He loves her, although she has broken faith with him, has
turned to listen to the blandishments of another, and basely
deserted him at the time of his utmost need.

Irene, touched by his grief, bids him not give way to
despair, but adjures him to make a last attempt to regain
his old ascendency over the minds of the fickle people. As
he leaves her to follow her advice, Adrian enters the hall,
wildly imploring her to escape while there is yet time, for
the infuriated Romans are coming, not only to slay Rienzi,
but to burn down the Capitol which has sheltered him.

As she utterly refuses to listen to his entreaties, he vainly
seeks to drag her away. It is only when the lurid light of
the devouring flames illumines the hall, and when she sinks
unconscious to the floor, that he can bear her away from a
place fraught with so much danger for them all. Rienzi, in the
mean while, has stepped out on the balcony, whence he has made
repeated but futile attempts to address the mob. Baroncelli and
Cecco, fearing lest he should yet succeed in turning the tide by
his marvellous eloquence, drown his voice by discordant cries,
fling stones which fall all around his motionless figure like
hail, and clamour for more fuel to b