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Señor Russell, go home, that she have reason for one moment." "But, dear Doña Eustaquia, won't you understand that we are really married?" Doña Eustaquia's patience was at an end. She turned to Brotherton and addressed a remark to him. Russell and Benicia conferred a moment, then the young man walked rapidly down the street. "Has he gone?" asked Doña Eustaquia.
And he is alone!" She flung herself across Doña Eustaquia's knees and burst into violent sobbing. Doña Eustaquia laid her strong arm about her friend, but her eyes were more angry than soft. "Weep no more, Modeste," she said. "Rather, arise and curse those who have flung a great man into the dust. But comfort thyself. Who can know?
A chance word, dropped by Sturges in the dance, and Eustaquia's eager interrogations, had revealed the American's indignation at the barbarous treatment of Pilar, and his deep interest in the beautiful victim. "Señor," whispered Eustaquia, excitedly, as soon as they reached the end of the corridor, "if you feel pity and perhaps love for my unhappy friend, go to her rescue for the love of Mary.
And I assure you, dear señora, every man among us felt the same. As you have been good enough to thank me in the name of the women of Monterey, I, in behalf of the officers of the United States squadron, beg that you will forgive us." Doña Eustaquia's cheek paled again, and she set her lips for a moment; then she held out her hand.
Doña Modeste threw herself wearily into a chair, but took Doña Eustaquia's hand in a tight clasp. Her white skin shone in the dim light, and with her black hair and green tragic eyes made her look like a little witch queen, for neither suffering nor humiliation could bend that stately head.
He read Shakespeare to her whilst she fanned herself, her face aglow with intelligent pleasure. She had not broached to him the uprising in the South lest it should lead to bitter words. Although an American and a Protestant, few friends had ever stood so close to her. He laid down the book as Russell and Benicia entered the room. Doña Eustaquia's heavy brows met.
"You are by nature the most impulsive woman I ever saw," he said, much amused, "and Eustaquia's lion is a kitten to the one that sleeps in you. You have cold deliberation enough, but it is manufactured, and the result of pretty hard work at that. Like all edifices reared without a foundation, it will fall with a crash some day, and the fragments will be of very little use to you."
It must be at the back of the house, and how am I going to get over that great adobe wall? That gate is probably fastened with an iron bar ah!" He had walked to the corner of the wall surrounding the large yard behind and at both sides of Doña Eustaquia's house, and he saw, ascending a ladder, a tall figure, draped in a serape, its face concealed by the shadow of a sombrero.
I was weak to consent, but these young people importuned me until I was weary. Doña Eustaquia, I married Benicia to the Señor Russell to-day." Doña Eustaquia's head had moved forward mechanically, her eyes staring incredulously from the priest to the other members of the apprehensive group.
The ugly wardrobe built into the thick wall never had been empty: Doña Eustaquia's generosity to the daughter she worshipped was unbounded. Benicia drew a long hysterical breath and went over to the window. It looked upon a large yard enclosed by the high adobe wall upon which her lovers so often had sat and sung to her. No flowers were in the garden, not even a tree.
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