She falls,—her son-in-law stabs through and through,
Reaches through her at Pietro—"With your son
This is the way to settle suits, good sire!"
He bellows, "Mercy for heaven, not for earth!
Leave to confess and save my sinful soul,
Then do your pleasure on the body of me!"
—"Nay, father, soul with body must take its chance!"
He presently got his portion and lay still.
And last, Pompilia rushes here and there
Like a dove among the lightnings in her brake,