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Updated: June 2, 2025
For it was only half an hour afterward that Sanchez again heard the tramp of his hoofs as if it were here and knowing it two miles away thou understandest, he said to himself: 'It is over." The two women shuddered and crossed themselves. "And what says Pereo of the fulfillment of his prophecy?" asked Faquita, hugging herself in her shawl with a certain titillating shrug of fascinating horror.
"But it is so far." "Think of what Don Vicente do for Doña Ysabel, mijita." "But he is an American. Oh, no, it is not that I doubt him. He loves me! It is so far, like another world. And the ocean is so big and cruel." "We ask the priest to say a mass." "Ah, my Faquita! I will go to the church to-morrow morning. How glad I am that I came to thee."
"So thou art here, Faquita," said a stout virago. "It is a wonder thou couldst spare time from prayers for the repose of the American Doctor's soul to look after the health of thy superior, poor Pereo! Is it, then, true that Dona Maria said she would have naught more to do with the drunken brute of her mayordomo?"
The young women had evidently changed dresses: Maruja was wearing the costume of her maid; Faquita was closely veiled and habited like her mistress; but it was characteristic that, while Faquita appeared awkward and over-dressed in her borrowed plumes, Maruja's short saya and trim bodice, with the striped shawl that hid her fair head, looked infinitely more coquettish and bewitching than on its legitimate owner.
The Dona Maruja had also learned with pain that, bribed by Judas-like coin, Faquita had betrayed the secrets of her wardrobe to the extent of furnishing a ribbon from a certain yellow dress to the Senor Buchanan to match with a Chinese fan. This was intolerable! Faquita writhed in remorse, and averred that through this solitary act she had dishonored her family.
Mama Faquita, being herself a full- blooded negress, was of course perfectly well aware of these peculiarities in the nature of her audience; and she played upon them as a skilled musician does upon a sensitively responsive instrument.
"I have had to change dresses with Faquita, because we were watched," she said, leaning forward in her chair and drawing the striped shawl around her shoulders. "I have had to steal out of my mother's house and through the fields, as if I was a gypsy. If I only were a gypsy, Harry, and not " "And not the proudest heiress in the land," he interrupted, with something of his old bitterness.
Faquita came to the fire and picked up the coffeepot, pouring the thick black liquid into the waiting line of tin cups. "It is time for us to finish and be on the move—not to just talk of what must be done." Drew looked up in surprise. The girl was wearing breeches, ready to ride.
She raised her hand and pointed to the cross. The mark of the dagger was still there. "Benicia!" she uttered. "The curse!" and then she fell at his feet. "Mariquita! Thou good-for-nothing, thou art wringing that smock in pieces! Thy señora will beat thee! Holy heaven, but it is hot!" "For that reason I hurry, old Faquita. Were I as slow as thou, I should cook in my own tallow."
Never in the history of Monterey had such a thing happened before. Faquita continued: "The girls sit down on the floor and cry. Doña Carmen turn very white and go in the other room. Then La Tulita jump up and walk across the room. The lashes fall down over the eyes that look like she is California and have conquer America, not the other way. The nostrils just jump. She laugh, laugh, laugh.
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