That formidable lady and her daughter were sitting on the corridor dressed in full white gowns, slowly wielding large black fans, for the night was hot. 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. But remember that he has been here a few days only and has had no chance to learn the many noble and valiant qualities of your General. He doubtless has been prejudiced against him by some enemy, and he adores Frémont:—there is the trouble. He resents Castro's treating Frémont as an enemy before the United States had declared its intentions. But had he been correctly informed, he undoubtedly would have conceived the same admiration and respect for your brave General that is felt by every other man among us."
Doña Eustaquia looked somewhat mollified, but shook her head sternly. "Much better he took the trouble to hear true. He insult all Californians by those shemful words. All the enemies of our dear General be glad. And the poor wife! Poor my Modeste! She fold the arms and raise the head, but the heart is broken."
"Jove! I almost wish they had driven us out! Dear señora—" Russell and Benicia were walking up and down the corridor—"we have become friends, true friends, as sometimes happens—not often—between man and woman. Cease to think of me as an officer of the United States navy, only as a man devoted to your service. I have already spent many pleasant hours with you. Let me hope that while I remain here neither Commodore Stockton nor party feeling will exclude me from many more."
She raised her graceful hand to her chin with a gesture peculiar to her, and looked upward with a glance half sad, half bitter.
"I much appreciate your friendship, Capitan Brotherton. You give me much advice that is good for me, and tell me many things. It is like the ocean wind when you have live long in the hot valley. Yes, dear friend, I forget you are in the navy of the conqueror."
"Mamacita," broke in Benicia's light voice, "tell us now when we can have the peek-neek."
"To-morrow night."
"Surely?"