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Updated: May 29, 2025
Benicia cast up her eyes expressively as she rose and courtesied to the officers, but her mother merely bent her head; nor did she extend her hand. Her face was very dark. Brotherton went directly to the point. "Dear Doña Eustaquia, we deeply regret that our Commodore has used such harsh language in regard to General Castro.
When Elena Estudillo was alone in the middle of the room dancing El Son and the young men were clapping and shouting and flinging gold and silver at her feet, Sturges and Eustaquia slipped out into the corridor. It was a dark night, the dueñas were thinking of naught but the dance and the days of their youth, and the violators of a stringent social law were safe for the moment.
Doña Eustaquia might watch with joy her bay open and engulf the hated Americans, but she would nurse back to life the undrowned bodies flung upon the shore. If she had been born a queen she would have slain in anger, but she would not have tortured. General Castro had flung his hat at her feet many times, and told her that she was born to command.
A thousand compliments are not worth one tear." Benicia turned swiftly to her mother, her eyes glittering with pleasure. "Mother, you hear! You hear!" she cried in Spanish. "These Americans are not so bad, after all." Doña Eustaquia gave the young man one of her rare smiles; it flashed over her strong dark face, until the light of youth was there once more.
Chonita clapped her hands and ran around the table, pressing to her lips the beautiful white things she quickly segregated, running her hand eagerly over the little slippers, hanging the lace about her shoulders, twisting a rope of garnets in her yellow hair. "Never have they been so beautiful, Eustaquia!
Beyond were great green plains alive with cattle, and above all curved the hills dark with pines. Three soldiers had left the Presidio and were sauntering toward the convent. "It is Enrico Ortega!" whispered Eustaquia Carillo, excitedly. "And Ramon de Castro!" scarcely breathed Elena Estudillo. "And José Yorba!" "Not Pepe Gomez? Ay, yi!" "Nor Manuel Ameste!"
A few young people came to sit in a corner with Benicia, but they had little to say. The night after the picnic some fifteen or twenty people were gathered about Doña Eustaquia in the large sala on the right of the hall; a few others were glancing over the Mexican papers in the little sala on the left.
When all was over, the players were followed by an admiring crowd to the entertainment awaiting them. "Is it not beautiful our Los Pastores?" demanded Doña Eustaquia, looking up at Brotherton, her fine face aglow with enthusiasm. "Do not you feel the desire to be a Catholic, my friend?"
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