"Not even Don Fernando Altimira?"

"No, my mother."

"Nor Flujencio Hernandez? Nor Juan Perez? Nor any of the caballeros who
serenade beneath thy window?"

"I love their music, but it comes as sweetly from one throat as from
another."

Her mother gave a long sigh of relief. "And yet I would have thee marry
some day, my little one. I was happy with thy father--thanks to God he
did not live to see this day--I was as happy, for two little years, as
this poor nature of ours can be, and I would have thee be the same. But
do not hasten to leave me alone. Thou art so young! Thine eyes have yet
the roguishness of youth; I would not see love flash it aside. Thy mouth
is like a child's; I shall shed the saddest tears of my life the day
it trembles with passion. Dear little one! Thou hast been more than a
daughter to me; thou hast been my only companion. I have striven to
impart to thee the ambition of thy mother and the intellect of thy
father. And I am proud of thee, very, very proud of thee!"

Benicia pinched her mother's chin, her mischievous eyes softening. "Ay,
my mother, I have done my little best, but I never shall be you. I am
afraid I love to dance through the night and flirt my breath away better
than I love the intellectual conversation of the few people you think
worthy to sit about you in the evenings. I am like a little butterfly
sitting on the mane of a mountain lion--"

"Tush! Tush! Thou knowest more than any girl in Monterey, and I am