, and looked, and
trembled, and shrunk, and then out he spake. 'I have but one mission to
fulfil, on the part of the Pontiff--resign at once thy Tribuneship, or
the Church inflicts upon thee its solemn curse.'"

"How--how?" said Nina, turning very pale; "what is it that awaits thee?"

"Excommunication!"

This awful sentence, by which the spiritual arm had so often stricken
down the fiercest foe, came to Nina's ear as a knell. She covered her
face with her hands. Rienzi paced the room with rapid strides. "The
curse!" he muttered; "the Church's curse--for me--for ME!"

"Oh, Cola! didst thou not seek to pacify this stern--"

"Pacify! Death and dishonour! Pacify! 'Cardinal,' I said, and I felt his
soul shrivel at my gaze, 'my power I received from the people--to the
people alone I render it. For my soul, man's word cannot scathe it.
Thou, haughty priest, thou thyself art the accursed, if, puppet and tool
of low cabals and exiled tyrants, thou breathest but a breath in the
name of the Lord of Justice, for the cause of the oppressor, and against
the rights of the oppressed.' With that I left him, and now--"

"Ay, now--now what will happen? Excommunication! In the metropolis of
the Church, too--the superstition of the people! Oh, Cola!"

"If," muttered Rienzi, "my conscience condemned me of one crime--if I
had stained my hands in one just man's blood--if I had broken one law
I myself had framed--if I had taken bribes, or wronged the poor, or
scorned the orphan, or shut my heart to the widow--then, then--but no!
Lord, thou wilt not desert me!"

"But man may!" thought Nina mournfully, as she perceived that one of
Rienzi's dark fits of fanatical and mystical revery was growing over
him--fits which he suffered no living eye, not even Nina's, to witness
when they gathered to their height. And now, indeed, after a short
interval of muttered soliloquy, in which his face worked so that the
veins on his temples swelled like cords, he abruptly left the room, and
sought the private oratory connected with his closet. Over the emotions
there indulged let us draw the veil. Who shall describe those awful and
mysterious moments, when man, with all his fiery passions, turbulent
thoughts, wild hopes, and despondent fears, demands the solitary
audience of his Maker?

It was long after this conference with Nina, and the midnight bell had
long tolled, when Rienzi stood alone, upon one of the balconies of the
palace, to cool, in the starr