Reaching the ground floor, she ran with wide-open eyes into the kitchen.

The stew was on the hob, the old woman still held the spoon, but she had ceased to stir and fallen into a chair.
"He's killing the king! He's killing the king!" cried Rosa, seizing her mother by the arm.

"Mother, what shall we do?
He's killing the king!" The old woman looked up with dull eyes and a stupid, cunning smile.
"Let them alone," she said.

"There's no king here." "Yes, yes.

He's upstairs in the count's room.