ree or four of his waiting-men, halted abruptly when he
recognised the young noble.

"Ah, my son! it is seldom that I see thee: how fares it with
thee?--well? So, so! I rejoice to hear it. Alas! what a state of society
is ours, when compared to the tranquil pleasures of Avignon! There,
all men who, like us, are fond of the same pursuits, the same studies,
deliciae musarum, hum! hum! (the Bishop was proud of an occasional
quotation, right or wrong), are brought easily and naturally together.
But here we scarcely dare stir out of our houses, save upon great
occasions. But, talking of great occasions, and the Muses, reminds me of
our good Rienzi's invitation to the Lateran: of course you will attend;
'tis a mighty knotty piece of Latin he proposes to solve--so I hear, at
least; very interesting to us, my son,--very!"

"It is tomorrow," answered Adrian. "Yes, assuredly; I will be there."

"And, harkye, my son," said the Bishop, resting his hand affectionately
on Adrian's shoulder, "I have reason to hope that he will remind our
poor citizens of the Jubilee for the year Fifty, and stir them towards
clearing the road of the brigands: a necessary injunction, and one to be
heeded timeously; for who will come here for absolution when he stands
a chance of rushing unannealed upon purgatory by the way? You have heard
Rienzi,--ay? quite a Cicero--quite! Well, Heaven bless you, my son! You
will not fail?"

"Nay, not I."

"Yet, stay--a word with you: just suggest to all whom you may meet
the advisability of a full meeting; it looks well for the city to show
respect to letters."

"To say nothing of the Jubilee," added Adrian, smiling.

"Ah, to say nothing of the Jubilee--very good! Adieu for the present!"
And the Bishop, resettling himself on his saddle, ambled solemnly on to
visit his various friends, and press them to the meeting.

Meanwhile, Adrian continued his course till he had passed the Capitol,
the Arch of Severus, the crumbling columns of the fane of Jupiter,
and found himself amidst the long grass, the whispering reeds, and the
neglected vines, that wave over the now-vanished pomp of the Golden
House of Nero. Seating himself on a fallen pillar--by that spot where
the traveller descends to the (so called) Baths of Livia--he looked
impatiently to the sun, as to blame it for the slowness of its march.

Not long, however, had he to wait before a light step was heard crushing
the fragrant grass; and presently through th