In a moment a young man-servant, who rushed to the assistance of the ladies, was thrown upon the ground and trampled upon. Amidst the dreadful commotion, which the mob increased more and more, the human beasts became unfettered. Women with disheveled hair, filthy striplings with the marks of crime upon their degenerate features, and all manner of ragamuffins with drunken faces, rushed at the furniture, divans, bed curtains, and everything which fell into their hands. In the residence an orgy of destruction prevailed. The rooms were filled with the stench of sweat and whiskey. The mob became infuriated; it broke, smashed, stole. On the street, under the windows piles of splintered furniture were formed. They threw out even the piano. Finally some ruffian, with a pock-marked visage, seized Marynia's violin and brandished it, desiring to shatter it on the wall. But she jumped to its aid and seized his fist with both hands. "That is mine! that is mine!--I am to play for the poor--" "Let go!" "I will not let go!--that is mine!" "Let go, carrion!" "That is mine!" A shot was fired, and, simultaneously, Pani Otocka's scream pierced the air. Marynia stood for a moment with upraised hands and head inclined backwards; afterwards she reeled and fell back into Hanka's arms. The shot and the murder overawed the crowd. The mob became silent, and after a moment began to scamper away, panic-stricken. XV Pani Krzycki, Zosia, and Hanka, and with them Gronski, Ladislaus, and Dr. Szremski surrounded the bed on which Marynia lay, after the operation and the extraction of the bullet. A second surgeon and his assistant sat aloof, awaiting the awakening of the patient. In the room, filled with the odor of iodoform, a profound stillness prevailed. Marynia had previously awoke immediately after the operation was performed, but stupefied still by the chloroform and weakened by the loss of blood, she soon sank again into a slumber. Her beautiful head lay motionless upon the pillow, her eyes were closed, and her countenance was waxen and transparent, as if she were already dead. In Pani Otocka and in Gronski, who but now sounded within himself the immensity of his affection for that child, despair whimpered with that quiet, terrible whimper, which lacerates, tugs and rends the bosom but fears to emerge on the surface. Both glanced time and again with alarm at Dr. Szremski who from time to time examined Marynia's pulse, but evidently he himself was uncertain whether that sleep would be final: he only nodded his head and placed his finger to his lips in sign of silence.