dly. "That is the wish of my
husband," she said, "for the men of our country want the Americans."

"And why?" asked one of the young men, flicking a particle of dust from
his silken riding jacket. "We shall then have freedom from the constant
war of opposing factions. If General Castro and Governor Pico are not
calling Juntas in which to denounce each other, a Carillo is pitting his
ambition against an Alvarado. The Gringos will rule us lightly and bring
us peace. They will not disturb our grants, and will give us rich prices
for our lands--"

"Oh, fool!" interrupted Dona Eustaquia. "Thrice fool! A hundred years
from now, Fernando Altimira, and our names will be forgotten in
California. Fifty years from now and our walls will tumble upon us
whilst we cook our beans in the rags that charity--American charity--has
flung us! I tell you that the hour the American flag waves above the
fort of Monterey is the hour of the Californians' doom. We have lived in
Arcadia--ingrates that you are to complain--they will run over us like
ants and sting us to death!"

"That is the prediction of my husband," said Dona Modeste. "Liberty,
Independence, Decency, Honour, how long will they be his watch-words?"

"Not a day longer!" cried Dona Eustaquia, "for the men of California are
cowards."

"Cowards! We? No man should say that to us!" The caballeros were on
their feet, their eyes flashing, as if they faced in uniform the navy of
the United States, rather than confronted, in lace ruffles and silken
smallclothes, an angry scornful woman.

"Cowards!" continued Fernando Altimira. "Are not men flocking about
General Castro at San Juan Bautista, willing to die in a cause already
lost? If our towns were sacked or our women outraged would not the
weakest of us fight until we died in our blood? But what is coming is
for the best, Dona Eustaquia, despite your prophecy; and as we cannot
help it--we, a few thousand men against a great nation--we resign
ourselves because we are governed by reason instead of by passion. No
one reverences our General more than Fernando Altimira. No grander man
ever wore a uniform! But he is fighting in a hopeless cause, and the
fewer who uphold him the less blood will flow, the sooner the struggle
will finish."

Dona Modeste covered her beautiful face and wept. Many of the women
sobbed in sympathy. Bright eyes, from beneath gay rebosas or delicate
mantillas, glanced approvingly at the speaker. Brown old men and w