The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old California

  XVII.

  The guests of Casa Grande--there were many besides Alvarado and hisparty; the house was full again--were gathered with the family on thecorridor as Estenega, Chonita, and Prudencia dismounted at the extremeend of the court-yard. As Reinaldo saw the enemy of his house approachhe ran down the steps, advanced rapidly, and bowed low before him.

  "Welcome, Senor Don Diego Estenega," he said,--"welcome to CasaGrande. The house is thine. Burn it if thou wilt. The servants arethine; I myself am thy servant. This is the supreme moment of my life,supremer even than when I learned of my acquittal of the foulcharges laid to my door by scheming and jealous enemies. It islong--alas!--since an Estenega and an Iturbi y Moncada have met inthe court-yard of the one or the other. Let this moment be the seal ofpeace, the death of feud, the unification of the North and the South."

  "You have the hospitality of the true Californian, Don Reinaldo. Itgives me pleasure to accept it."

  "Would, then, thy pleasure could equal mine!" "Curse him!" he added toChonita, as Estenega went up the steps to greet Don Guillermo and DonaTrinidad, "I have just received positive information that it washe who kept me from distinguishing myself and my house in theDepartmental Junta, he who cast me in a dungeon. It poisons myhappiness to sleep under the same roof with him."

  "Ay!" exclaimed Chonita. "Why canst thou not be more sincere, mybrother? Hospitality did not compel thee to say so much to thineenemy. Couldst thou not have spoken a few simple words like himself,and not blackened thy soul?"

  "My sister! thou never spokest to me so harshly before. And on mymarriage eve!"

  "Forgive me, my most beloved brother. Thou knowest I love thee. But itgrieves me to think that even hospitality could make thee false."

  When they ascended the steps, not a woman was to be seen; all hadfollowed Prudencia to her chamber to see the _donas_ of the groom,which had arrived that day from Mexico. Chonita tarried long enough tosee that her father had forgotten the family grievance in his revivedsusceptibility to Estenega, then went to Prudencia's room. Therewomen, young and old, crowded each other, jabbering like monkeys. Thelittle iron bed, the chairs and tables, every article of furniture,in fact, but the altar in the corner, displayed to advantage exquisitematerials for gowns, a mass of elaborate underclothing, a white lacemantilla to be worn at the bridal, lace flounces fine and deep, crepeshawls, sashes from Rome, silk stockings by the dozen. On a largetable were the more delicate and valuable gifts: a rosary of topaz,the cross a fine piece of carving; a jeweled comb; a string ofpearls; diamond hoops for the ears; a large pin painted with a head ofGuadalupe, the patron saint of California; and several fragilefans. Quite apart, on a little table, was the crown and pride of the_donas_,--six white cobweb-like smocks, embroidered, hemistitched, anddeshaladoed. Did any Californian bridegroom forget that dainty item hewould be repudiated on his wedding-eve.

  "God of my life!" murmured Valencia, "he has taste as well as gold.And all to go on that round white doll!"

  There was little envy among the other girls. Their eyes sparkled withgood-nature as they kissed Prudencia and congratulated her. The olderwomen patted the things approvingly; and, between religion, a _donas_to satisfy an angel, and prospective bliss, Prudencia was the happiestlittle bride-elect in all The Californias.

  "Never were such smocks!" cried one of the girls. "Ay! he will make agood husband. That sign never fails."

  "Thou must wear long, long trains now, my Prudencia, and be as statelyas Chonita."

  "Ay!" exclaimed Prudencia. Did not every gown already made have atrain longer than herself?

  "Thou needst never wear a mended stocking with all these to last theefor years," said another: never had silk stockings been brought tothe Californias in sufficient plenty for the dancing feet of itsdaughters.

  "I shall always mend my stockings," said Prudencia, "I myself."

  "Yes," said one of the older women, "thou wilt be a good wife andwaste nothing."

  Valencia laid her arm about Chonita's waist. "I wish to meet Don DiegoEstenega," she said. "Wilt thou not present him to me?"

  "Thou art very forward," said Chonita, coldly. "Canst thou not waituntil he comes thy way?"

  "No, my Chonita; I wish to meet him now. My curiosity devours me."

  "Very well; come with me and thou shalt know him.--Wilt thou come too,Eustaquia? There are only men on the corridor."

  We found Diego and Don Guillermo talking politics in a corner, bothdeeply interested. Estenega rose at once.

  "Don Diego Estenega," said Chonita, "I would present you to theSenorita Dona Valencia Menendez, of the Rancho del Fuego."

  Estenega bowed. "I have heard much of Dona Valencia, and am delightedto meet her."

  Valencia was nonplussed for a moment; he had not given her thecustomary salutation, and she could hardly murmur the customary reply.She merely smiled and looked so handsome that she could afford todispense with words.

  "A superb type," said Estenega to me, as Don Guillermo claimedthe beauty's attention for a moment. "But only a type; nothingdistinctive."

  Nevertheless, ten minutes later, Valencia, with the manoeuvring of thegeneral of many a battle, had guided him to a seat in the sala underDona Trinidad's sleepy wing, and her eyes were flashing the languageof Spain to his. I saw Chonita watch them for a moment, in mingledsurprise and doubt, then saw a sudden look of fear spring to her eyesas she turned hastily and walked away.

  Again I shared her room,--the thirty rooms and many in theout-buildings were overflowing with guests who had come a hundredleagues or less,--and after we had been in bed a half-hour, Chonita,overcome by the insinuating power of that time-honored confessional,told me of her meeting with Estenega at the Mission. I made fewcomments, but sighed; I knew him so well. "It will be strange to evenseem to be friends with him," she added,--"to hate him in my heart andyet delight to talk with him, and perhaps to regret when he leaves."

  "Are you sure that you still hate him?"

  She sat up in bed. The solid wooden shutters were closed, but over thedoor was a small square aperture, and through this a stray moonbeamdrifted and fell on her. Her hair was tumbling about her shoulders,and she looked decidedly less statuesque than usual.

  "Eustaquia," she said, solemnly, "I believe I can go to confession."