In the long dining-room, opening upon the large high-walled garden at
the back of the Governor's house, a feast was spread for fifty people.
Doña Martina sat for a little time at the head of the table, her
yellow gown almost hidden by the masses of hair which her small head
could not support. Castro was on one side of her, Estenega on the
other, Chonita by her arch-enemy. A large bunch of artificial flowers
was at each plate, and the table was loaded with yellowed chickens
sitting proudly in scarlet gravy, tongues covered with walnut sauce,
grilled meats, tamales, mounds of tortillas, and dulces.
Alvarado, at the lower end of the table, sat between Doña Modeste
Castro and myself; and between the extremes of the board were faces
glowing, beautiful, ugly, but without exception fresh and young. From
all, the mantilla and serape had been removed, jewels sparkled in the
lace shirts of the men, white throats were encircled by the invariable
necklace of Baja Californian pearls. Chonita alone wore a string of
black pearls. I never saw her without it.
Doña Martina took little part in the talk and laughter, and after
a time slipped away, motioning to Chonita to take her place. The
conversation turned upon war and politics, and in its course Estenega,
looking from Chonita to Castro with a smile of good-natured irony
said,--
"Doña Chonita is of your opinion, coronel, that California was the
direct gift of heaven to the Spaniards, and that the Americans cannot
have us."
Castro raised his glass to the _comadre_. "Doña Chonita has the loyal
bosom of all Californian women. Our men love better the olive of peace
than the flavor of discord; but did the bandoleros dare to approach
our peaceful shores with dastardly intent to rob, then, thanks be
to God, I know that every man among them would fight for this virgin
land. Thou, too, Diego, thou wouldst unsheathe thy sword, in spite of
thy pretended admiration of the Americans."
Estenega raised his shoulders. "Possibly. But in American occupation
lies the hope of California. What have we done with it in our
seventy years of possession? Built a few missions, which are rotting,
terrorized or cajoled few thousand worthless Indians into civilized
imbecility, and raised a respectable number of horses and cattle. Our
hide and tallow trade is only good; the Russians have monopolized the
fur trade; we continue to raise cattle and horses because it would be
an exertion to suppress them; and meanwhile we dawdle away our lives
very pleasurably, whilst a magnificent territory, filled with gold and
richer still in soil, lies idle beneath our feet. Nature never works
without a plan. She compounded a wonderful country, and she created a
wonderful people to develop it. She has allowed us to drone on it
for a little time, but it was not made for us; and I am sufficiently
interested in California to wish to see her rise from her sleep and
feel and live in every part of her." He turned suddenly to Chonita.
"If I were a sculptor," he said, "I should use you as a model for a
statue of California. I have the somewhat whimsical idea that you are
the human embodiment of her."
Before she could muster her startled and angry faculties for reply,
before Estenega had finished speaking, in fact, Castro brought his
open palm down on the table, his eyes blazing.
"Oh, execrable profanation!" he cried. "Oh, unheard-of perfidy! Is it
possible that a man calling himself a Californian could give utterance
to such sentiments? Oh, abomination! You would invite, welcome,
uphold, the American adventurer? You would tear apart the bosom of
your country under pretense of doctoring its evils? You would cast
this fair gift of Almighty God at the feet of American swine? Oh,
Diego! Diego! This comes of the heretic books thou hast read. It is
better to have heart than brain."
"True: the palpitations do not last as long. We have had proof which I
need not recapitulate that to preserve California to itself it must be
tied fast to Mexico, otherwise would it die of anarchy or fall a prey
to the first invader. So far so good. But what has Mexico done for
California? Nothing; and she will do less. She is a mother who has
forgotten the child she put out to nurse. England and France and
Russia would do as little. But the United States, young and
ambitious, will give her greedy attention, and out of their greed
will California's good be wrought. And although they sweep us from the
earth, they will plant fruit where they found weeds."
Don José pushed back his chair violently and left the table. Estenega
turned to Chonita and found her pallid, her nostrils tense, her eyes
flashing.
"Traitor!" she articulated. "I hate you! And it was you--_you_--who
kept my loyal brother from serving his country in the Departmental
Junta. He is as full of fire and patriotism as Castro; and yet you,
whose blood is ice, could be a member of the Electoral College and
defeat the election of a man who is as much an honor to his country as
you are a shame."
He smiled a little cruelly, but without anger or shame in his face.
"Señorita," he said, "I defeated your brother because I did not
believe him to be of any use to his country. He would only have been
in the way as a member of the Junta, and an older man wanted the
place. Your brother has Don José's enthusiasm without his magnetism
and remarkable executive power. He is too young to have had
experience, and has done neither reading nor thinking. Therefore I
did my best to defeat him. Pardon my rudeness, señorita; ascribe it to
revenge for calling me a traitor."
"You--you----" she stammered, then bent her head over her plate,
her Spanish dignity aghast at the threatening tears. Her hand hung
clinched at her side. Diego took it in spite of resistance, and,
opening the rigid fingers, bent his head beneath the board and kissed
them.
"I believe you are somewhat of a woman, after all," he said.