ment some one knocked violently at the palace-gate. The assembled Ghibelines started up, and drew their swords as they rushed towards the staircase; and they stood in fearful silence, while they listened to the answers which the stranger gave to him who guarded the door.
Ruggieri had embraced his wife he feared for the last time. She did not then weep; her high wrought feelings were fixed on one object alone, the safety of her child.—"If you escape," she cried, "Valperga is your refuge; you well know the road that leads to it."
The boy did not answer for a while; and then he whispered, while he clung round her neck,—"You, dear mother, shall shew it to me."
The voice of the man who had disturbed them by his knocking, had reassured the imprisoned Ghlbelines, and he was admitted. It was Marco, the servant of Messer Antonio dei Adimari. A Florentine by birth, and a Guelph, Antonio had retired from his native city while it continued under the jurisdiction of the opposite party, and had lived at the castle of Valperga, of which his wife was Countess
