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. The Jew, who was paralysed by his companion's fate, offered no resistance, and was instantly seized. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed.
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