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Updated: May 31, 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.
I would not have thee hate even an Estenega, although I cannot love them myself. But we will not talk of the Estenegas. Dost thou realize that our Reinaldo will be with us this night? We must all go to confession to-morrow, thy mother and myself, Eustaquia, Reinaldo, Prudencia, and thyself." Chonita's face became rigid. "I cannot go to confession," she said.
She looked at him as if she inferred that this was the order of badinage that an Iturbi y Moncada might expect from an Estenega. "I am not joking. It is quite true." "It is not true! Reinaldo conspire against his government? Some one has lied. And you are ready to believe!" "I hope some one has lied. The news is very direct, however." He looked at her speculatively.
The girl rose, trembling and blushing, but crossed the room with stately step and stood beside her uncle. Don Guillermo took her hand and placed it in Reinaldo's. "Thou shalt have her, my son," he said. "I have divined thy wishes." Reinaldo kissed the small fingers fluttering in his, making a great flourish.
He looks like Sancho Panza." Don Guillermo's sturdy little mustang bore him into the court-yard, shaking his stout master not a little. The old gentleman's black silk handkerchief had fallen to his shoulders: his face was red, but covered with a broad smile. "I have letters from Monterey," he said, as Reinaldo and Adan ran down the steps to help him alight.
Then, without a promise or a compromising word, he so flattered that shallow youth, so allured his ambition and pampered his vanity and watered his hopes, that fear and hatred wondered at their existence, closed their eyes, and went to sleep. Reinaldo poured forth his aspirations, which under the influence of the truth-provoking vine proved to be an honest yearning for the pleasures of Mexico.
"We have a new Father in the Mission," continued her mother, remembering that she had not acquainted her daughter with all the important events of her absence. "And Don Rafael Guzman's son was drafted. That was a judgment for not marrying when his father bade him. For that I shall be glad to have Reinaldo marry. I would not have him go to the war to be killed." "No," said Don Guillermo.
Prudencia was toasted until her calm important head whirled. Reinaldo made a speech as full of flowers as the occasion demanded. Alvarado made one also, five sentences of plain well-chosen words, to which the bridegroom listened with scorn. Now and again a girl swept the strings of a guitar or a caballero sang.
"You have the hospitality of the true Californian, Don Reinaldo. It gives me pleasure to accept it." "Would, then, thy pleasure could equal mine!"
They forgot the men, and the men forgot them. Even Chonita was oblivious to all else for the hour. She was a famous horsewoman, and keenly alive to the enchantment of the race-field. The men bet their ranchos, whole caponeras of their finest horses, herds of cattle, their saddles and their jewels. Estenega won largely, and, as it happened, from Reinaldo particularly.
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