CHAPTER XVII
O'DONNELL SETTLES WITH YOSCOLO
The luminous haze of late spring lay contentedly over the Mendoza hacienda. The noon hour had come with its somnolent warmth; and all nature was dozing in the sun, except the bumblebee, victim of omnipresent unrest, and the hummingbird, which always finds the day too short for its multifarious duties.
The peon workman, in from the fields, was satisfying hunger in his whitewashed cot; or, the meal over, was stretched on the earthen floor, a kerchief over his face, enjoying the midday siesta. The peona wife stepped lightly around tidying the room, and then took place by her husband's side, their children lying tumbled about.
Peace rested on the Indian adobe village which flanked the hacienda house. Inside the mansion itself there reigned the stillness of night.
A footstep descending stairs somewhere seemed unusually loud. Finally a door opened, making a grating, out-of-place sound. Señor Mendoza's erect form appeared on the west side of the courtyard. He walked leisurely toward an avenue shaded by the interlacing branches of thick-leafed walnut trees. A tiny brook fed by a spring in the middle of the courtyard purled along by his feet. A grateful coolness lifted itself to greet him. The odor of damp earth mingled pleasingly with the scent of flowers; and from under the south wall of the inclosure came the rhythm of a miniature waterfall as the brook lost itself on the rocks many feet beneath.
The señor found that he was not alone in seeking the leafed coolness of the walnut alameda. The Doña Carmelita was standing at the end of the walk listening, apparently, to the music of the water. Her hair, free save where a golden clasp held it at the neck, gave play, as it flowed over her back, to the beginning breezes from the western sea. The profile of her face was thoughtful. Delicate lines traced the exquisite fullness of a form straight and slender.
"My daughter is a beautiful woman!" he half ejaculated.
Many thoughts ran through his mind in panoramic vision. He recalled the long gallery in his father's castle where had hung the pictured forbears of the de la Mendoza. Generations were there. Their characteristic form and features had descended to Carmelita. No government rule could prevent that, though it might vent titles and confiscate lands.
"My daughter a woman! A beautiful woman!" The thought half startled him.
The girl turned and walked toward him.