Going Out of the Motor Show, I come back to the hotel strolling for the quai of the Montblanc, in the view of the mythical mountain from the near the lake Leman. It makes a romantic noon. In the right, the belfries of Saint Pierre mark the Calvinist citadel. In the center, the Montblanc is seen well, superb, in one of the rare days of postcard in which it does not hide among the clouds. In the left, however, the Lake Leman penetrates into the perpetual fog, like in a throat of mystery. The jet of eau pumps the water with great peace, and the Swiss flag, letting itself caress for the prespring breeze on the roof of the Hotel de la Paix, confirms the peace with the security. Well, everything is perfect like a watch that works.
I halt, then, joint on the handrail of the lake, to enjoy the instant. Here the plaque that remembers the murder, the 10 September of 1898. "Ici fuit assassinée S. M. Elisabeth, Imperátrice d'Autriche". Here, the anarchist shot about Sissí when she embarked. Romantic him; romantic her, fall in the lake, spreading the dresses and the until then joyous mane for the water dyed of her blood. Some swans are neared. Are they grandchildren, or great-great-grandsons, of those that drank the blood of Sissí?
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