st, and nailing him on the very sod where
he had sate, full of young life and careless hope, not an hour ago.

The horseman plucked forth his spear, and passed on in pursuit of
new victims; his comrades following. Cola had descended,--was on the
spot,--kneeling by his murdered brother. Presently, to the sound of
horn and trumpet, came by a nobler company than most of those hitherto
engaged; who had been, indeed, but the advanced-guard of the Colonna. At
their head rode a man in years, whose long white hair escaped from his
plumed cap and mingled with his venerable beard. "How is this?" said the
chief, reining in his steed, "young Rienzi!"

The youth looked up, as he heard that voice, and then flung himself
before the steed of the old noble, and, clasping his hands, cried out
in a scarce articulate tone: "It is my brother, noble Stephen,--a boy,
a mere child!--the best--the mildest! See how his blood dabbles the
grass;--back, back--your horse's hoofs are in the stream! Justice, my
Lord, justice!--you are a great man."

"Who slew him? an Orsini, doubtless; you shall have justice."

"Thanks, thanks," murmured Rienzi, as he tottered once more to his
brother's side, turned the boy's face from the grass, and strove wildly
to feel the pulse of his heart; he drew back his hand hastily, for it
was crimsoned with blood, and lifting that hand on high, shrieked out
again, "Justice! justice!"

The group round the old Stephen Colonna, hardened as they were in such
scenes, were affected by the sight. A handsome boy, whose tears ran
fast down his cheeks, and who rode his palfrey close by the side of the
Colonna, drew forth his sword. "My Lord," said he, half sobbing, "an
Orsini only could have butchered a harmless lad like this; let us lose
not a moment,--let us on after the ruffians."

"No, Adrian, no!" cried Stephen, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder;
"your zeal is to be lauded, but we must beware an ambush. Our men have
ventured too far--what, ho, there!--sound a return."

The bugles, in a few minutes, brought back the pursuers,--among them,
the horseman whose spear had been so fatally misused. He was the leader
of those engaged in the conflict with Martino di Porto; and the gold
wrought into his armour, with the gorgeous trappings of his charger,
betokened his rank.

"Thanks, my son, thanks," said the old Colonna to this cavalier, "you
have done well and bravely. But tell me, knowest thou, for thou hast
an eagle eye, w