She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. " "Plumb in the eye!" said O'Higgins, rising. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. He must be gone to dispose of the body.
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