ppiness of him, demanding it and not receiving it, seemed to be
there, staring at him with those wide eyes....

He felt himself turning giddy with an immense feeling of helplessness.
He looked for nothing more, this was the end. And he was not surprised
at what happened: the man with the brown, hairy, distorted face, who
rushed upon him like a nightmare and laid hold of him, full of hatred. A
foul, tobacco-laden breath swept over his face, a coarse knife in a
coarse fist flashed towards his throat....

A cry arose. A shot rang out, sharp, determined, with no suspicion of
hesitation. The man cursed out a hoarse yell, gnashing his teeth in
revolt, and struggled, dying. His brains splashed over Othomar, soiling
the prince's uniform. And the man plumped down at his feet on the
ground, grown limp at once, with relaxed muscles, still clutching the
knife in his hairy fingers. All this had happened in a single instant.

It was Von Fest who had fired the shot from a revolver. The colonel drew
up his broad figure, looked around him, still held the revolver raised
at a threatening slant. The people stood staring, motionless, perplexed
by the sudden reality before their eyes.

Zanti, stupefied, gazed at the corpse; then he said, while the startled
officers stood by in fussy confusion around the prince:

"Now go and, if you can, go in peace!..."

Full of bitterness, he pointed to the corpse. He shook his head, with
the grey locks under the felt hat; tears sprang to the corners of his
eyes.

"Thou shalt not kill!" they heard him mutter. "They seem not to know
that yet; nobody knows it yet!..."

A strange, mad look troubled his normally clear, grey eyes; he seemed
for a moment not to know what he should do. Then he went to a tree,
caught up the axe and, without taking further notice of the princes,
began to hew like a lunatic, blow upon blow....

The officers hurried to their horses. Dutri gave a last look back: near
the corpse, now surrounded by peasants, he saw a woman standing; she
sobbed, her desperate arms flung to heaven, she howled, she shook her
fist at the equerry's turned face, screaming.

Othomar had said nothing. He heard the woman howling behind him. He
quivered in every nerve. On the road, preparing to mount, Ducardi asked
him, agitatedly:

"Shall we return to Castel Vaza, highness?"

The prince looked at the general haughtily. Quickly the thought flashed
through him that the general had strongly opposed hi