ection through the press. All at once a man, smartly
clad in the garb of recent civilization, stepped in front of her and
said something to her; what it was I knew not. She drew herself back,
as from something poisonous or revolting, and the expression of her face
became terrible. At the same time her right hand went swiftly to the
masses of her sable hair, and as swiftly back again, armed with the
small, narrow dagger which these women wear by way of hair-pin. Before
the unhappy creature who had accosted her knew what was happening,
she thrust the dagger, with a powerful movement--while her white teeth
showed, set edge to edge, through her drawn lips--deep into his body.
As he collapsed forward she drew the weapon upward, putting the whole
strength of her body into the effort, and actually ripped the man open.
Down he fell at her feet. There was a score or more of Roman citizens
within arm's-reach of her at the moment; no one spoke, still less
attempted to restrain her. On the contrary, as she turned they
respectfully opened a way for her through the midst of them, and none
made an offer to assist the dying wretch who lay writhing and faintly
coughing on the cobble-stone pavement of the piazza. I was soon elbowed
quietly away from the spot where he lay; I caught a glimpse of the
crimson head-dress of his slayer passing away afar amid the crowd;
presently the cocked hat of a gendarme appeared from another direction,
advancing slowly against manifest obstructions; everybody seemed to
get in his way, without appearing to intend it. Such was the attitude
towards assassination of the Roman people in those days. I have often
thought over the incident since then. Their sympathy is with private
vengeance, never with ordained statute law. They love to use the poniard
and to see it used, and will do their best to shield the users. Pity for
the victim they have none; they assume that he has his deserts. For
that matter, my own sympathies, filled though I was with horror at the
spectacle of actual murder done before my eyes, were wholly with the
savage beauty, and not with the fatuous creature who had probably
insulted her. It is needless to say that the women of Transtevere were
not so often called upon to resent insults as are the ladies of New
York and other American cities. They did not wait for policemen or for
"leagues of chivalry" to avenge them.

Towards the French soldiers I was cordially disposed. Their dark-blue
tunics