"Well said, daughter, you are right. Could I be fortunate enough, Count, to gratify one of your wishes?--Come," continued Bonello, seeing that Erwin was too agitated to speak, "you should at least have courage enough to ask me, but I think I can reward you? Well, if you won't, I must; take her, my son! My children, I betroth you in the sight of Heaven, and before this assemblage." The people applauded, as Erwin took her hand; he had forgotten the past, and his eyes shone with a courage and a determination which would have defied the universe. "My dear Bonello, I leave you, full of hope in a brighter future! Farewell, Hermengarde, and fear nothing; our separation will be only a brief one." He mounted and rode away, followed by the cheers and good wishes of the crowd. _CHAPTER XXVIII_. _THE POPULACE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY_. The Milanese were profoundly discouraged by the Chancellor's disloyal conduct and the forcible abduction of their consuls; while the rigid enforcement of the blockade by the Imperial troops rendered the introduction of supplies a matter of impossibility. The people, full of courage and fortitude, so long as they possessed an abundance of everything, began to murmur, when they became aware that their provisions were nearly exhausted, and even the Archdeacon Sala, once revered almost as a saint, lost his influence, and, with the Archbishop and the other ecclesiastics, was obliged to seek an asylum within the walls of Genoa. With them, all organization disappeared, and the angry crowd threatened to open the city gates to the enemy. Thousands of infuriated men and women assembled before the palaces of the consuls Nigri and Oberto, demanding food, and the magistrates were unwillingly obliged to yield, and on the last day of February, 1162, convoked an assembly of the people. The multitude flocked together on the public square, in the centre of the town, their hollow eyes, pallid cheeks, and trembling limbs giving proof of the bitter pangs of hunger. One member alone had lost none of its energy; it was the tongue, which railed out violently against the consuls, who were accused of everything dishonorable and unjust. The boldest of the mob got as close as possible to the tribune, from which the magistrates were to harangue the people, in order that they might interrupt the speakers at their pleasure. "Trust me, my friends," said a cobbler, with wan cheeks and a hungry air; "I have been obliged to give up mending shoes, and do you know why? It was because my children have eaten the last piece of leather that there was left in the house." "Leather! why, that's food for a king," interrupted another speaker. "We eat things that I won't name! We must all die, miserably, of hunger, if the gates are not soon opened to the besiegers."