admiration for them, señorita. A thousand compliments are not worth one
tear."

Benicia turned swiftly to her mother, her eyes glittering with pleasure.
"Mother, you hear! You hear!" she cried in Spanish. "These Americans are
not so bad, after all."

Doña Eustaquia gave the young man one of her rare smiles; it flashed
over her strong dark face, until the light of youth was there once more.

"Very pretty speech," she said, with slow precision. "I thank you, Señor
Russell, in the name of the women of Monterey."

"By Jove! Madam--señora--I assure you I never felt so cut up in my
life as when I saw all those beautiful women crying down there by the
Custom-house. I am a good American, but I would rather have thrown the
flag under your feet than have seen you cry like that. And I assure you,
dear señora, every man among us felt the same. As you have been good
enough to thank me in the name of the women of Monterey, I, in behalf of
the officers of the United States squadron, beg that you will forgive
us."

Doña Eustaquia's cheek paled again, and she set her lips for a moment;
then she held out her hand.

"Señor," she said, "we are conquered, but we are Californians; and
although we do not bend the head, neither do we turn the back. We have
invite you to our houses, and we cannot treat you like enemies. I will
say with--how you say it--truth?--we did hate the thought that you
come and take the country that was ours. But all is over and cannot