The señora arose to her feet. "Come, Capitan, let us thank the peona for her kindness and for her suggestion of prophecy, and go on our journey. I trust my strength will not fail again."
Morando offered money to the woman, but she would not accept it.
"The gold is for the ring," she replied with another queer laugh. "Why should I withhold kindnesses?" she asked. "God gives them to me. I should not keep them selfishly."
They thanked her for her good offices and went their way.
Señora Valentino was her buoyant self once more, while Morando, though all courtesy and attention, seemed in a quiet mood.
"Come, soldier mine," she suggested, "let us rejoice with the landscape and sing with the spring." She waited, then laughed gayly. "Perhaps the spirits of the future gave you an unhappy horoscope." Again she gave way to merriment.
His answering laugh had a forced note, as he said: "What a pity the spirits are no longer free to speak without hindrance! In so far, my lady, as the peona spoke for them their message flattered me." He doffed his cap sweepingly.
"Gallant soldier! But I was speaking a while ago of this province of California. Do you realize, Captain, that here is a country exceeding Spain in area and equaling her soil in fertility?"
"I do realize it, indeed, señora. What we see here," indicating the waving valley, "and even after a winter of drought, is a demonstration of most wonderful fertility."
"Under the English flag all old customs will flourish here; the civilization developed will be along Spanish lines. Colonists will come in numbers and a mighty principality will grow—still it will be, in essentials, Spanish. A viceroy will be in power, combining the office of a general with that of governor. These vast haciendas will be fruitful farms supporting more hundreds than they do individuals now."