"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, which of the Orsini slew this poor boy?--a foul deed; his
family, too, our clients!"

"Who? yon lad?" replied the horseman, lifting the helmet from his
head, and wiping his heated brow; "say you so! how came he, then, with