Fra Moreale, has at length yielded to the Tribune, and fled from his
castle, like a rat from a falling house."

"How, how!" cried the dame; "what say you? Has this plebeian, whom you
call the Tribune--has he boldly thrown the gage to that dread warrior?
and has Montreal left the Roman territory?"

"Ay, it is the talk of the town. But Fra Moreale seems as much a bugbear
to you as to e'er a mother in Rome. Did he ever wrong you, dame?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the old woman, with so abrupt a fierceness, that even
that hardy boy was startled.

"I wish I could meet him, then," said he, after a pause, as he
flourished his mimic weapon.

"Now Heaven forbid! He is a man ever to be shunned by thee, whether for
peace or war. Say again this good Tribune holds no terms with the Free
Lances."

"Say it again--why all Rome knows it."

"He is pious, too, I have heard; and they do bruit it that he sees
visions, and is comforted from above," said the woman, speaking to
herself. Then turning to Angelo, she continued,--"Thou wouldst like
greatly to accept the Lady Nina's proffer?"

"Ah, that I should, dame, if you could spare me."

"Child," replied the matron, solemnly, "my sand is nearly run, and my