witticisms or nicknames--the brief words of praise or censure, that
imply so much--which passed to and fro among that lively crowd, were
treasured carefully in his recollection.

"Make way, there!--way for my Lord Martino Orsini--Baron di Porto!"

"Peace, minion!--draw back! way for the Signor Adrian Colonna, Baron di
Castello, and Knight of the Empire."

And at those two rival shouts, you saw waving on high the golden bear of
the Orsini, with the motto--"Beware my embrace!" and the solitary column
on an azure ground, of the Colonna, with Adrian's especial device--"Sad,
but strong." The train of Martino Orsini was much more numerous than
that of Adrian, which last consisted but of ten servitors. But Adrian's
men attracted far greater admiration amongst the crowd, and pleased more
the experienced eye of the warlike Knight of St. John. Their arms were
polished like mirrors; their height was to an inch the same; their march
was regular and sedate; their mien erect; they looked neither to the
right nor left; they betrayed that ineffable discipline--that harmony
of order--which Adrian had learned to impart to his men during his own
apprenticeship of arms. But the disorderly train of the Lord of Porto
was composed of men of all heights. Their arms were ill-polished and
ill-fashioned, and they pressed confusedly on each other; they laughed
and spoke aloud; and in their mien and bearing expressed all the
insolence of men who despised alike the master they served and the
people they awed. The two bands coming unexpectedly on each other
through this narrow defile, the jealousy of the two houses presently
declared itself. Each pressed forward for the precedence; and, as the
quiet regularity of Adrian's train, and even its compact paucity of
numbers, enabled it to pass before the servitors of his rival, the