In utmost amazement he saw the greeny-grey uniformed carabinieri rushing thick and wild and indiscriminate on the crowd:  a sudden new excited crowd in uniforms attacking the black crowd, beating them wildly with truncheons.  There was a seething moment in the street below.  And almost instantaneously the original crowd burst into a terror of frenzy.  The mob broke as if something had exploded inside it.  A few black-hatted men fought furiously to get themselves free of the hated soldiers; in the confusion bunches of men staggered, reeled, fell, and were struggling among the legs of their comrades and of the carabinieri.  But the bulk of the crowd just burst and fled—­in every direction.  Like drops of water they seemed to fly up at the very walls themselves.  They darted into any entry, any doorway.  They sprang up the walls and clambered into the ground-floor windows.  They sprang up the walls on to window-ledges, and then jumped down again, and ran—­clambering, wriggling, darting, running in every direction; some cut, blood on their faces, terror or frenzy of flight in their hearts.  Not so much terror as the frenzy of running away.  In a breath the street was empty.

And all the time, there above on the stone coping stood the long-faced, fair-haired boy, while four stout carabinieri in the street below stood with uplifted revolvers and covered him, shouting that if he moved they would shoot.  So there he stood, still looking down, still holding with his left hand behind him, covered by the four revolvers.  He was not so much afraid as twitchily self-conscious because of his false position.

Meanwhile down below the crowd had dispersed—­melted momentaneously.  The carabinieri were busy arresting the men who had fallen and been trodden underfoot, or who had foolishly let themselves be taken; perhaps half a dozen men, half a dozen prisoners; less rather than more.  The sergeant ordered these to be secured between soldiers.  And last of all the youth up above, still covered by the revolvers, was ordered to come down.  He turned quite quietly, and quite humbly, cautiously picked his way along the coping towards the drain-pipe.  He reached this pipe and began, in humiliation, to climb down.  It was a real climb down.

Once in the street he was surrounded by the grey uniforms.  The soldiers formed up.  The sergeant gave the order.  And away they marched, the dejected youth a prisoner between them.

Then were heard a few scattered yells of derision and protest, a few shouts of anger and derision against the carabinieri.  There were once more gangs of men and groups of youths along the street.  They sent up an occasional shout.  But always over their shoulders, and pretending it was not they who shouted.  They were all cowed and hang-dog once more, and made not the slightest effort to save the youth.  Nevertheless, they prowled and watched, ready for the next time.

So, away went the prisoner and the grey-green soldiers, and the street was left to the little gangs and groups of hangdog, discontented men, all thoroughly out of countenance.  The scene was ended.