white trousers which Monterey fashion dictated for evening wear; the
hair of the younger men was braided with gay ribbons, and diamonds
flashed in the lace of their ruffles.

The sala was on the second floor; the musicians sat on the corridor
beyond the open windows and scraped their fiddles and twanged their
guitars, awaiting the coming of the American officers. Before long the
regular tramp of many feet turning from Alvarado Street up the little
Primera del Este, facing Mr. Larkin's house, made dark eyes flash, lace
and silken gowns flutter. Benicia and a group of girls were standing by
Doña Eustaquia. They opened their large black fans as if to wave back
the pink that had sprung to their cheeks. Only Benicia held her head
saucily high, and her large brown eyes were full of defiant sparkles.

"Why art thou so excited, Blandina?" she asked of a girl who had grasped
her arm. "I feel as if the war between the United States and Mexico
began tonight."

"Ay, Benicia, thou hast so gay a spirit that nothing ever frightens
thee! But, Mary! How many they are! They tramp as if they would go
through the stair. Ay, the poor flag! No wonder--"

"Now, do not cry over the flag any more. Ah! there is not one to compare
with General Castro!"

The character of the Californian sala had changed for ever; the blue and
gold of the United States had invaded it.

The officers, young and old, looked with much interest at the faces,
soft, piquant, tropical, which made the effect of pansies looking