So cold-blooded and unprovoked an assault in broad daylight and in the public street of a large city was one of the most shocking crimes of modern times and aroused the horror and indignation of the whole civilized world. Elizabeth of Austro-Hungary had no enemies. She had exerted no influence in politics, directly or indirectly, nor was she interested in state affairs. As her grief-stricken husband said of her, “she had done much good and never harmed a human being.” The Empress’ salon in the hotel was quickly transformed into a mortuary chapel. The walls were hung with black, tall candles placed about the coffin, at the foot of which knelt monks reciting prayers for the dead, and over the bier fell a purple velvet pall, in the corner of which some young Swiss girls had embroidered the words “_Répose en paix._” Elizabeth was dressed as she had been in life, in black, her hands folded over a rosary and an ivory crucifix. The beautiful features were not altered, but had changed their look of suffering to an expression of wonderful majesty and peace. On the evening of the eleventh of September a special train bearing her remains left Geneva and passed slowly through Switzerland and Austria amid the tolling of bells, and was met at every stop by sorrowing throngs eager to pay a last tribute to the dead Empress. The Emperor was overwhelmed with messages of sympathy from all parts of the globe. Flowers and funeral wreaths came from high and low alike in every land that she had visited. Even China and the Transvaal sent offerings to lay upon the Empress’ coffin. From Cairo came a wreath made of desert blooms, hundreds of Jericho roses, the old Christian emblem of the resurrection, and lotus blossoms, symbolic of eternity. Her death made almost as deep an impression in most of the foreign capitals as in Vienna, where for years she had been so little seen that her Austrian subjects had almost forgotten how she looked, and her assassination aroused less sorrow than rage against the wretch who could have slain a defenceless woman. In Hungary, however, the public mourning was deep and profound. Every flag was at half-mast and the streets were full of sobbing men and women. The great autumn manœuvres were abandoned, and it was decreed that her biography should be recorded in the national archives, so that her memory might be forever preserved in the history of the country.