"They're murdering him, they're murdering him, they shan't murder him!" bleated the people round them. Then the duchess understood, then she saw and the girls also saw: the mob, furious, foaming at the mouth--avengers now, though at first malcontents, perhaps even anarchists: such were the Liparians!--the mob pressing against the soldiers and constables, in the midst of whom the emperor's murderer still made fight with his large, frenzied gestures. And the avengers stormed this circle of protecting police; they dragged the man out.... They dragged him right under the eyes of the duchess, of her daughters.... "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" they roared brutally, men and women alike. They tore the clothes from his body, they beat him; and he howled back. They struck him to the ground with cudgels and trampled on him with coarse shoes; his blood flowed; his brains spattered from his crushed skull.... Then, at the sight of blood, they became like wild beasts; they grinned and smacked their lips with delight. Eleonore fell back fainting against the duchess, but Alexa shook her by the arm: "Keep up, keep up, for God's sake keep up, can't you?" she cried out aloud. "I can do nothing with you if you faint!" Her strong hands goaded the little marchioness back into life and again she dragged them on, staggering.... 5 The emperor, who refused to die, lived by sheer energy for two days longer, with his perforated lungs, panting for breath. And such were the Liparians: the man, the murderer, seized in the opera-house, despite the police and the guard, had been battered into a shapeless mass by the malcontents themselves.... And such is life: the emperor of a great country was shot dead by a fanatic in the midst of his kith and kin and life went on.... The country was as extensive as before: a rich, naturally beautiful, southern empire; tall, snow-clad mountains in the north; medieval and modern towns, lying in broad provinces; the residential capital itself, white in its golden autumn sunshine, with its Imperial, beneath a blue sky, close to the blue sea, round which circled the quays.... And such is the life of rulers: the emperor lay dead, killed by a simple pistol-shot; and the court chamberlain was very busy, the masters of ceremonies unable to agree; the pomp of an imperial funeral was prepared in all its intricacy; through all Europe sped the after-shudder of fright; every newspaper was filled with telegrams and long articles.... All this was because of one shot from a fanatic, a martyr for the people's rights.