“They have killed our King!” wailed Pompilia.
“It is true,” Filomena sobbed; “I heard it when I went to mass.”
We dressed immediately and went out into the street, to find that it was only too true. Giuseppe the baker standing at his shop door, white as his linen clothes, read aloud the dreadful news from his morning paper. In the dark shop behind, his boy fed the crackling fire with brushwood as if nothing out of the common had happened. The loaves were ready for the oven; it was his business to keep up the fire.
“Last night, at half-past ten o’clock, as the King was getting into his carriage at Monza, he was shot and almost instantly killed. As he fell, those nearest caught him in their arms imploring him to say if he were seriously hurt. His Majesty answered, Non è niente (It is nothing).’ These were his last words, he died almost immediately after.”
Ignazio our gardener who had just come up, a damp newspaper crumpled in his hand, echoed the words:
“It is nothing! It is nothing! Was not that like him? Ah! he was a brave man.”
“The assassin was with difficulty saved from the mob;” Giuseppe continued to read.
“Why did they save him?” interrupted Ignazio. “They should have let the people tear the wretch to pieces, and that would have been too good for him!”
“It is nothing!” Giuseppe repeated. “Ah! you may well say he was a brave man. Do you remember the last time they tried to murder our good King? He was on his way to the races. The officer in the carriage with him was wounded; Re Umberto sent the injured man back to Rome while he himself drove on to Tor di Quinto as if nothing had happened. In the royal box he said to one of his suite that being shot at was one of ‘gl’incerti del mestiere (the risks of the profession).’ Ah! he was a brave man; he deserved a better trade.”
“Well they have killed him at last,” said Ignazio. “What do you suppose will be done to the murderer? Will they hang him? No, indeed; nothing so sensible! We tax-payers must support that vile assassin for the rest of his life. I ask you, is there any sense in that? They should let the people have him; we will give him justice. Ah! if I had only been there!”