The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. Basically a kindly man but made cynical and derisive by sordid contacts, O'Higgins had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as unselfishness. Unless they remind him now and then not to. ‘En tout cas, I have waiting for me a cavalier. Give me the books.
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