The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old California Read online

  XIV.

  Chonita, clad in a black gown, walked slowly up and down the corridorof Casa Grande. The rain should have dripped from the eaves, beatenwith heavy monotony upon the hard clay of the court-yard, to accompanyher mood, but it did not. The sky was blue without fleck of cloud, thesun like the open mouth of a furnace of boiling gold, the air as warmand sweet and drowsy as if it never had come in shock with human care.Prudencia sat on the green bench, drawing threads in a fine linensmock, her small face rosy with contentment.

  "Why dost thou wear that black gown this beautiful morning?" shedemanded, suddenly. "And why dost thou walk when thou canst sit down?"

  "I had a dream last night. Dost thou believe in dreams?" She had asmuch regard for her cousin's opinion as for the twittering of a bird,but she felt the necessity of speech at times, and at least this childnever remembered what she said.

  "Sure, my Chonita. Did not I dream that the good captain would bringpink silk stockings? and are they not my own this minute?" And shethrust a diminutive foot from beneath the hem of her gown, regardingit with admiration. "And did not I dream that Tomaso and Liseta wouldmarry? What was thy dream, my Chonita?"

  "I do not know what the first part was; something very sad. All Iremember is the roar of the ocean and another roar like the windthrough high trees. Then a moment that shook and frightened me, butsweeter than anything I know of, so I cannot define it. Then a swiftawful tragedy--I cannot recall the details of that, either. The wholedream was like a black mass of clouds, cut now and again by a scytheof lightning. But then, like a vision within a dream, I seemed tostand there and see myself, clad in a black gown, walking up anddown this corridor, or one like it, up and down, up and down, neverresting, never daring to rest, lest I hear the ceaseless clatter ofa lonely fugitive's horse. When I awoke I was as cold as if I hadreceived the first shock of the surf. I cannot say why I put on thisblack gown to-day. I make no haste to feel as I did when I wore it inthat dream,--the desolation,--the endlessness; but I did."

  "That was a strange dream, my Chonita," said Prudencia, threading herneedle. "Thou must have eaten too many dulces for supper: didst thou?"

  "No," said Chonita, shortly, "I did not."

  She continued her aimless walk, wondering at her depression ofspirits. All her life she had felt a certain mental loneliness, buta healthy body rarely harbors an invalid soul, and she had only tospring on a horse and gallop over the hills to feel as happy as ayoung animal. Moreover, the world--all the world she knew--was at herfeet; nor had she ever known the novelty of an ungratified wish. Oncein a while her father arose in an obdurate mood, but she had only tocoax, or threaten tears,--never had she been seen to shed one,--orstamp her foot, to bring that doting parent to terms. It is truethat she had had her morbid moments, an abrupt impatient desire forsomething that was not all light and pleasure and gold and adulation;but, being a girl of will and sense, she had turned resolutely fromthe troublous demands of her deeper soul, regarding them as coalsfallen from a mind that burned too hotly at times.

  This morning, however, she let the blue waters rise, not so muchbecause they were stronger than her will, as because she wished tounderstand what was the matter with her. She was filled with a dulldislike of every one she had ever known, of every condition whichhad surrounded her from birth. She felt a deep disgust of placidcontentment, of the mere enjoyment of sunshine and air. She recalleddrearily the clock-like revolutions of the year which broughtbull-fights, races, rodeos, church celebrations; her mother'sanecdotes of the Indians; her father's manifold interests, ever thetheme of his tongue; Reinaldo's grandiloquent accounts of his exploitsand intentions; Prudencia's infinite nothings. She hated the balls ofwhich she was La Favorita, the everlasting serenades, the whole lifeof pleasure which made that period of California the most perfectedArcadia the modern world has known. Some time during the past fewweeks the girl had crossed her hands over her breast and lain down inher eternal tomb. The woman had arisen and come forth, blinded as yetby the light, her hands thrust out gropingly.

  "It is that man," she told herself, with angry frankness. "I hadnot talked with him ten minutes before I felt as I do when the scenechanges suddenly in one of Shakespeare's plays,--as if I had beenflung like a meteor into a new world. I felt the necessity for mentalalertness for the first time in my life; always, before, I had strivento conceal what I knew. The natural consequences, of course, werefirst the desire to feel that stimulation again and again, then torealize the littleness of everything but mental companionship. I haveread that people who begin with hate sometimes end with love; and if Iwere a book woman I suppose I should in time love this man whom I nowso hate, even while I admire. But I am no lump of wax in the handsof a writer of dreams. I am Chonita Iturbi y Moncada, and he is DiegoEstenega. I could no more love him than could the equator kiss thepoles. Only, much as I hate him, I wish I could see him again. Heknows so much more than any one else. I should like to talk to him,to ask him many things. He has sworn to marry me." Her lip curledscornfully, but a sudden glow rushed over her. "Had he not been anEstenega,--yes, I could have loved him,--that calm, clear-sightedlove that is born of regard; not a whirlwind and a collapse, like mostlove. I should like to sit with my hands in my lap and hear him talkforever. And we cannot even be friends. It is a pity."

  The girl's mind was like a splendid castle only one wing of which hadever been illuminated. By the light of the books she had read, andof acute observation in a little sphere, she strove to penetrate thethick walls and carry the torch into broader halls and lofty towers.But superstition, prejudice, bitter pride, inexperience of life,conjoined their shoulders and barred the way. As Diego Estenega haddiscerned, under the thick Old-World shell of inherited impressionswas a plastic being of all womanly possibilities. But so little didshe know of herself, so futile was her struggle in the dark with onlysudden flashes to blind her and distort all she saw, that with nothingto shape that moulding kernel it would shrink and wither, and in a fewyears she would be but a polished shell, perfect of proportion, hollowat the core.

  But if strong intellectual juices sank into that sweet, pliant kernel,developing it into the perfected form of woman, establishing thecurrent between the brain and the passions, finishing the work, orleaving it half completed, as Circumstance vouchsafed?--what then?

  "Ay, Senor!" exclaimed Prudencia, as two people, mounted on horsesglistening with silver, galloped into the court-yard. "Valencia andAdan!"

  I came out of the sala at that moment and watched them alight: Adan,that faithful, dog-like adorer, of whose kind every beautiful womanhas a half-dozen or more, Valencia the bitter-hearted rival ofChonita. She was a tall, dazzling creature, with flaming black eyeslarge and heavily lashed, and a figure so lithe that she seemed tosweep downward from her horse rather than spring to the ground. Shehad the dark rich skin of Mexico--another source of envy and hatred,for the Iturbi y Moncadas, like most of the aristocracy of thecountry, were of pure Castilian blood and as white as porcelain inconsequence--and a red full mouth.

  "Welcome, my Chonita!" she cried. "_Valgame Dios!_ but I am glad tosee thee back!" She kissed Chonita effusively. "Ay, my poor brother!"she whispered, hurriedly. "Tell him that thou art glad to see him."And then she welcomed me with words that fell as softly as rose-leavesin a zephyr, and patted Prudencia's head.

  Chonita, with a faint flush on her cheek, gave Adan her hand to kiss.She had given this faithful suitor little encouragement, but hisunswerving and honest devotion had wrung from her a sort of carelessaffection; and she told me that first night in Monterey that if sheever made up her mind to marry she thought she would select Adan: hewas more tolerable than any one she knew. It is doubtful if he hadcrossed her mind since; and now, with all a woman's unreason, sheconceived a sudden and violent dislike for him because she had treatedhim too kindly in her thoughts. I liked Adan Menendez; there wassomething manly and sure about him,--the latter a restful if not afascinating quality. And I liked his appearance. His clear brown eyeshad a kind direct regar
d. His chin was round, and his profile a littlethick; but the gray hair brushed up and away from his low foreheadgave dignity to his face. His figure was pervaded with the indolenceof the Californian.

  "At your feet, senorita mia," he murmured, his voice trembling.

  "It gives me pleasure to see thee again, Adan. Hast thou been well andhappy since I left?"

  It was a careless question, and he looked at her reproachfully.

  "I have been well, Chonita," he said.

  At this moment our attention was startled by a sharp exclamation fromValencia. Prudencia had announced her engagement. Valencia had refusedmany suitors, but she had intended to marry Reinaldo Iturbi y Moncada.Not that she loved him: he was the most brilliant match in threehundred leagues. Within the last year he had bent the knee to thefamous coquette; but she had lost her temper one day,--or, rather, ithad found her,--and after a violent quarrel he had galloped away, andgone almost immediately to Los Angeles, there to remain until DonJuan went after him with a bushel of gold. She controlled herself ina moment, and swayed her graceful body over Prudencia, kissing herlightly on the cheek.

  "Thou baby, to marry!" she said, softly. "Thou didst take away mybreath. Thou dost look no more than fourteen years. I had forgottenthe grand merienda of thy eighteenth birthday."

  Prudencia's little bosom swelled with pride at the discomfiture of thehaughty beauty who had rarely remembered to notice her. Prudencia wasnot poor; she owned a goodly rancho; but it was an hacienda to thestate of a Menendez.

  "Thou wilt be one of my bridesmaids, no, Dona Valencia?" she asked.

  "That will be the proud day of my life," said Valencia, graciously.

  "We have a ball to-night," said Chonita.

  "Thou wouldst have had word to-day. Thou wilt stay now, no? and notride those five leagues twice again? I will send for thy gown."

  "Truly, I will stay, my Chonita. And thou wilt tell me all about thyvisit to Monterey, no?"

  "All? Ay! sure!"

  Adan kissed both Prudencia's little hands in earnest congratulation.As he did so, the door of Reinaldo's room opened, and the heir of theIturbi y Moncadas stepped forth, gorgeous in black silk embroideredwith gold. He had slept off the effects of the night's debauch, andcold water had restored his freshness. He kissed Prudencia's hand, hisown to us, then bent over Valencia's with exaggerated homage.

  "At thy feet, O loveliest of California's daughters. In the immensityof thought, going to and coming from Los Angeles, my imagination hasspread its wings like an eagle. Thou hast been a beautiful day-dream,posing or reclining, dancing, or swaying with grace superlative on thyrestive steed. I have not greeted my good friend Adan. I can but lookand look and keep on looking at his incomparable sister, the rose ofroses, the queen of queens."

  "Thy tongue carols as easily as a lark's," said Valencia, with buthalf-concealed bitterness. "Thou couldst sing all day,--and the nextforget."

  "I forget nothing, beautiful senorita,--neither the fair days ofspring nor the ugly storms of winter. And I love the sunshine and fleefrom the tempest. Adan, brother of my heart, welcome as ever to CasaGrande--Ay! here is my father. 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 blacksilk handkerchief had fallen to his shoulders: his face was red, butcovered with a broad smile.

  "I have letters from Monterey," he said, as Reinaldo and Adan ran downthe steps to help him alight. "Alvarado goes by sea to Los Angelesthis month, but returns by land in the next, and will honor us witha visit of a week. I shall write to him to arrive in time for thewedding. Several members of the Junta come with him,--and of theirnumber is Diego Estenega."

  "Who?" cried Reinaldo. "An Estenega? Thou wilt not ask him to crossthe threshold of Casa Grande?"

  "I always liked Diego," said the old man, somewhat confusedly. "And heis the friend of Alvarado. How can I avoid to ask him, when he is ofthe party?"

  "Let him come," cried Reinaldo. "God of my life!--I am glad that hecomes, this lord of redwood forests and fog-bound cliffs. It is wellthat he see the splendor of the Iturbi y Moncadas,--our pageants andour gay diversions, our cavalcades of beauty and elegance under acanopy of smiling blue. Glad I am that he comes. Once for all shallhe learn that, although his accursed family has beaten ours in war andpolitics, he can never hope to rival our pomp and state."

  "Ah!" said Valencia to Chonita, "I have heard of this Diego Estenega.I too am glad that he comes. I have the advantage of thee this time,my friend. Thou and he must hate each other, and for once I am withouta rival. He shall be my slave." And she tossed her spirited head.

  "He shall not!" cried Chonita, then checked herself abruptly, theblood rushing to her hair. "I hate him so," she continued hurriedlyto the astonished Valencia, "that I would see no woman show him favor.Thou wilt not like him, Valencia. He is not handsome at all,--no colorin his skin, not even white, and eyes in the back of his head. Nomustache, no curls, and a mouth that looks,--oh, that mouth, so grim,so hard!--no, it is not to be described. No one could; it makes youhate him. And he has no respect for women; he thinks they were made toplease the eye, no more. I do not think he would look ten seconds atan ugly woman. Thou wilt not like him, Valencia, sure."

  "Ay, but I think I shall. What thou hast said makes me wish to see himthe more. God of my life! but he must be different from the men of theSouth. And I shall like that."

  "Perhaps," said Chonita, coldly. "At least he will not break thyheart, for no woman could love him. But come and take thy siesta,no? and refresh thyself for the dance. I will send thee a cupof chocolate." And, bending her head to Adan, she swept down thecorridor, followed by Valencia.