“Do not blame Alvarado, my father.  Remember, he must listen to the Departmental Junta; and this is their work.”  “Fool that I am!” she added to herself, “why do I not tell who alone is to blame?  But I need no one to help me hate him!”

“Is it true that this Estenega of whom I hear so much is a member of the Junta?”

“It may be.”

“If so, it is he, he alone, who has brought dishonor upon my house.  Again they have conquered!”

“This Estenega I met—­and who was compadre with me for the baby—­is little in California, my father.  If it be he who is a member of the Junta, he could hardly rule such men as Alvarado, Jimeno, and Castro.  I saw no other Estenega.”

“True!  I must have other enemies in the North; but I had not known of it.  But they shall learn of my power in the South.  Don Juan de la Borrasca went to-day to Los Angeles with a bushel of gold to bail my son, and both will be with us the day after to-morrow.  A curse upon Carillo—­but I will speak of it no more.  Tell me, my daughter,—­God of my soul, but I am glad to have thee back!—­what thoughtest thou of this son of the Estenegas?  Is it Ramon, Esteban, or Diego?  I have seen none of them since they were little ones.  I remember Diego well.  He had lightning in his little tongue, and the devil in his brain.  I liked him, although he was the son of my enemy; and if he had been an Iturbi y Moncada I would have made a great man of him.  Ay! but he was quick.  One day in Monterey, he got under my feet and I fell flat, much imperilling my dignity, for it was on Alvarado Street, and I was a member of the Territorial Deputation.  I could have beaten him, I was so angry; but he scrambled to his little feet, and, helping me to mine, he said, whilst dodging my stick, ’Be not angry, senor.  I gave my promise to the earth that thou shouldst kiss her, for all the world has prayed that she should not embrace thee for ninety years to come.’  What could I do?  I gave him a cake.  Thou smilest, my daughter; but thou wilt not commend the enemy of thy house, no?  Ah, well, we grow less bitter as we grow old; and although I hated his father I liked Diego.  Again, I remember, I was in Monterey, and he was there; his father and I were both members of the Deputation.  Caramba! what hot words passed between us!  But I was thinking of Diego.  I took a volume of Shakespeare from him one day.  ’Thou art too young to read such books,’ I said.  ’A baby reading what the good priests allow not men to read.  I have not read this heretic book of plays, and yet thou dost lie there on thy stomach and drink in its wickedness.’  ‘It is true,’ he said, and how his steel eyes did flash; ’but when I am as old as you, senor, my stomach will be flat and my head will be big.  Thou art the enemy of my father, but—­hast thou noticed?—­thy stomach is bigger than his, and he has conquered thee in speech and in politics more times than thou hast found vengeance for.  Ay!—­and thy ranchos have richer soil and many more cattle, but he has a library, Don Guillermo, and thou hast not.’  I spanked him then and there; but I never forgot what he said, and thou hast read what thou listed.  I would not that the children of Alejandro Estenega should know more than those of Guillermo Iturbi y Moncada.”