The blood, which had been raging towards his eyes, flowed back and was gushing towards his heart. His eyes clearly recognised the dagger in the dead man's chest. In the gloomy twilight, he read the words on the handle which he had painstakingly engraved with his own hand: "Death to all inquisitors of the state". He could not help but speak them aloud and let his eyes wander to and fro between the fatal weapon and the face of the poor victim, until his mind was filled with the condemning contradiction between these words and these features. In a frightful haste, thoughts chased past his mind. Suddenly, he saw everything clearly which had happened here and could never be atoned for. No miracle had any part in turning this atrocity into reality. Everything was so perfectly natural, so probable, a child had to comprehend it. During the day, the young man had kept his distance from his ruinous, beautiful enemy. He wanted to leave without farewell. He had sent someone to tell her, and she felt indifferently enough about it to invite guests for the same night. When the night had come, he could not resist the powerful urge of the daemon and walked the accustomed path. At the portal, he had been told that he would not find the countess alone. Momentarily, he was resolved to turn back. And this very moment was enough for his only friend to position himself into his hiding place, in order to become his murderer. Only after Andrea had clearly thought about all of this, with the cold clairvoyance which comes upon people in all decisive hours when all comfort disappears, the petrification of his body receded. He fell towards the silent sleeper, dropped to his knees onto the pavement, and closely looked at his face. A mad laugh, which sounded like choking, he now involuntarily uttered, as he was pushing the white curls off his head, which had so tragically deceived him. He remembered that he himself had warned the friend against showing himself openly in the streets of Venice. He himself had set up the trap for himself and the one who was so dear to him. Then, he ripped his clothes open and felt whether there was still a trace of life throbbing in his heart. He bent his mouth closely over the young man's lips, to find out whether he could still feel his breath. Everything was quiet and cold and hopeless.