bull-fights, and races. We have beautiful canons for
meriendas; and I could dance every night if I wished. We are few, but
we are quite as gay and quite as happy as you in your capital." The
pride of the Iturbi y Moncadas and of the Barbarina flashed in her
eyes, then made way for anger under the amused glance of Estenega.

"Oh, of course," he said, teasingly. "You are to Monterey what
Monterey is to the city of Mexico. But, pardon me, senorita; I would
not anger you for all the gold which is said to lie like rocks under
our Californias,--if it be true that certain padres hold that mighty
secret. (God! how I should like to get one by the throat and throttle
it out of him!) Pardon me again, senorita; I was going to say that
you may be pleased to know that there is little magnificence where my
ranchos are,--high on the coast, among the redwoods. I live in a house
made of big ugly logs, unpainted. There are no cavalcades in the cold
depths of those redwood forests, and the ocean beats against ragged
cliffs. Only at Fort Ross, in her log palace, does the beautiful
Russian, Princess Helene Rotscheff, strive occasionally to make
herself and others forget that the forest is not the Bois of her
beloved Paris, that in it the grizzly and the panther hunger for her,
and that an Indian Prince, mad with love for the only fair-haired
woman he has ever seen, is determined to carry her off----"

"Tell me! tell me!" cried Chonita, eagerly, forgetting her role and
her enemy. "What is that? I do not know the princess, although she has
sent me word many times to visit her--Did an Indian try to carry her
off?"

"It happened only the other day. Prince Solano, perhaps you have
heard, is chief of all the tribes of Sonoma, Valley of the Moon. He
is a handsome animal, with a strong will and remarkable organizing
abilities. One day I was entertaining the Rotscheffs at dinner when
Solano suddenly flung the door open and strode into the room: we are
old friends, and my servants do not stand on ceremony with him. As he
caught sight of the princess he halted abruptly, stared at her for a
moment, much as the first man may have stared at the first woman, then
turned and left the house, sprang on his mustang and galloped away.
The princess, you must know, is as blonde as only a Russian can be,
and an extremely pretty woman, small and dainty. No wonder the mighty
prince of darkness took fire. She was much amused. So was Rotscheff,
and he joked her th