Castro—­” she sprang to her feet and brought her open palm down violently upon the table, “Castro, the real hero of this country, the great man ready to die a thousand deaths for the liberty of the Californians, a man who was made for great deeds and born for fame, he will be left to rust and rot because we have no newspapers to glorify him, and the Gringos send what they wish to their country!  Oh, profanation!  That a great man should be covered from sight by an army of red ants!”

“By Jove!” said Russell, “I wish I could understand her!  Doesn’t she look magnificent?”

Captain Brotherton made no reply.  He was watching her closely, gathering the sense of her words, full of passionate admiration for the woman.  Her tall majestic figure was quivering under the lash of her fiery temper, quick to spring and strike.  The red satin of her gown and the diamonds on her finely moulded neck and in the dense coils of her hair grew dim before the angry brilliancy of her eyes.

The thin sensitive lips of Mr. Larkin curled with their accustomed humour, but he replied sincerely, “Yes, Castro is a hero, a great man on a small canvas—­”

“And they are little men on a big canvas!” interrupted Dona Eustaquia.

Mr. Larkin laughed, but his reply was non-committal.  “Remember, they have done all that they have been called upon to do, and they have done it well.  Who can say that they would not be as heroic, if opportunity offered, as they have been prudent?”

Dona Eustaquia shrugged her shoulders disdainfully, but resumed her seat.  “You will not say, but you know what chance they would have with Castro in a fair fight.  But what chance has even a great man, when at the head of a few renegades, against the navy of a big nation?  But Fremont!  Is he to cast up his eyes and draw down his mouth to the world, whilst the man who acted for the safety of his country alone, who showed foresight and wisdom, is denounced as a violator of international courtesy?”

“No,” said one of the American residents who stood near, “history will right all that.  Some day the world will know who was the great and who the little man.”

“Some day!  When we are under our stones!  This swaggering Commodore Stockton adores Fremont and hates Castro.  His lying proclamation will be read in his own country—­”

The door opened suddenly and Don Fernando Altimira entered the room.  “Have you heard?” he cried.  “All the South is in arms!  The Departmental Assembly has called the whole country to war, and men are flocking to the standard!  Castro has sworn that he will never give up the country under his charge.  Now, Mother of God! let our men drive the usurper from the country.”

Even Mr. Larkin sprang to his feet in excitement.  He rapidly translated the news to Brotherton and Russell.

“Ah!  There will be a little blood, then,” said the younger officer.  “It was too easy a victory to count.”