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The Splendid Idle Forties Stories of Old California

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 1624    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

! Do not speak

ce if they put foot in our capital! Shrivel their fingers to the bone if they dethrone our Aztec Eagle and flourish their stars and stripes above our fort! O California! That thy sons and thy daughters should live to see thee plucked like a rose by the usurper! And why? Why? Not because these piratical Americans have the right to one league of our land; but because, Holy Evangelists! they want it!

c Monterey was gathered in the sala of Do?a Modeste Castro. The hostess smiled sadly. "Th

f opposing factions. If General Castro and Governor Pico are not calling Juntas in which to denounce each other, a Carillo is pitting his ambition ag

our walls will tumble upon us whilst we cook our beans in the rags that charity-American charity-has flung us! I tell you that the hour the American flag waves above the

n of my husband," said

Honour, how long will t

o?a Eustaquia, "for the men

ir eyes flashing, as if they faced in uniform the navy of the United States, rather

died in our blood? But what is coming is for the best, Do?a Eustaquia, despite your prophecy; and as we cannot help it-we, a few thousand men against a great nation-we resign ourselves because we are governed by reason instead of by

ath gay rebosas or delicate mantillas, glanced approvingly at the speaker. Brown old men and women stared gloo

andsome, although the peachness of youth had left her face. Her features were small but sharply cut; the square chin and firm mouth had the lines of courage and violent

feet many times, and told her that she was born to command. Even the nervous irregularity of her step to-day could not affect the extreme elegance of her carriage, and she carried her small head with the imperious pride of a sovereign. She did not speak again for a moment, but as she pas

h a mischievous smile as she

redict that our charming Do?a Eu

every league of my ranchos for a necklace made from the ears of twenty Americans. I would throw my jewels to the pigs, if

seal of disquiet sat less heavily upon careworn or beautiful faces. But before the respite was a mome

came mechanically from

nder of the town. Don Mariano walked the floor, wringing his hands, until a quarter of an hour ago, when he sent word to the insolent servant of a pirate-republic that he had no authority to del

amidst the thunder of canno

in the roo

Do?a Eustaquia. Her vo

rican flag upon the Custo

t a word, Do?a Modeste Castro and her guests rose and ran thr

s with painted faces staring above cheap and gaudy satins, who had danced at fandangos in the booths until dawn, then wandered about the beach, too curious over the movements of the American squadron to go to bed; shopkeepers, black and rusty of face, smoking big pipes with the air of philosophers; Indians clad in a single garment of calico, falling in a straight line from the neck; eagle-beaked old crones with black shawls over their he

tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh, these Americans! How I hate them!"

f upon her neck. "Ay! California! California!" she crie

r of the Custom-house struck

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