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Updated: June 21, 2025
Her white face was delicately cut: the lines of time indicated spiritual sweetness rather than strength. Chonita roved between the sala and an adjoining room where four Indian girls embroidered the yellow poppies on the white satin. I was reading one of her books, the "Vicar of Wakefield." "Wilt thou be glad to see Reinaldo, my Prudencia?" asked Don Guillermo, as the song finished.
Chonita moved proudly among her guests, and never had been more gracious. Valencia dared not meet her eyes nor mine, but, seeing that Prudencia was watching her, avenged her own disquiet by enhancing that of the bride. Never did she flirt so imperiously with Reinaldo as she did that fateful night; and Reinaldo, who was man's vanity collected and compounded, devoted himself to the dashing beauty.
"Thou wilt, my Eustaquia. Doña Chonita is no pudding-brained girl. She needs no dueña." "I know that; but it is not that I am thinking of. Suppose some one sees you; thou knowest the inflexibility of our conventions." "You forget that we are comadre and compadre. Our privileges are many." He abruptly dismissed the intimate "thou," with his usual American perversity. "True; I had forgotten.
Chonita tarried long enough to see that her father had forgotten the family grievance in his revived susceptibility to Estenega, then went to Prudencia's room. There women, young and old, crowded each other, jabbering like monkeys.
"Coliar!" the bull was ignominiously rolled in the dust, then meekly preceded Reinaldo back to the rodeo-ground. After the dinner under the trees most of the party returned to the platform, but Estenega, Adan, Chonita, Valencia, and myself strolled about the rancho. Adan walked at Chonita's side, more faithful than her shadow.
After breakfast they were alone at one end of the corridor for a moment, and she compelled herself to raise her eyes and look at him steadily. He was regarding her searchingly. She was not a woman to endure uncertainty. "Tell me," she cried, trembling from head to foot, the blood rushing over her face, "did I go to your room last night?" "Doña Chonita!" he exclaimed.
His father was cruel and vicious but smart, Holy Mary! Diego has his brain; but he has, too, the kind heart and gentle manner Ay! Holy God! Come, come: here are the horses. Call Prudencia, and we will go to the bark and see what the good captain has brought to tempt us." Four horses led by vaqueros, had entered the court-yard. "Prudencia," called Chonita.
It was a careless question, and he looked at her reproachfully. "I have been well, Chonita," he said. At this moment our attention was startled by a sharp exclamation from Valencia. Prudencia had announced her engagement. Valencia had refused many suitors, but she had intended to marry Reinaldo Iturbi y Moncada. Not that she loved him: he was the most brilliant match in three hundred leagues.
"Don Diego Estenega," said Chonita, "I would present you to the Señorita Doña Valencia Menendez, of the Rancho del Fuego." Estenega bowed. "I have heard much of Doña Valencia, and am delighted to meet her." Valencia was nonplussed for a moment; he had not given her the customary salutation, and she could hardly murmur the customary reply.
The governor motioned to the nurse to follow Chonita and myself, and she trotted after us, her ugly face beaming with pride of position. Was not in her arms the oldest-born of a new generation of Alvarados? the daughter of the governor of The Californias? Her smock, embroidered with silk, was new, and looked whiter than fog against her bare brown arms and face.
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