es. The Governor, blazing with diamonds, stood at the upper end
of the room by Dona Modeste Castro's side. About them were Castro and
other prominent men of Monterey, all talking of the rumoured war between
the United States and Mexico and prophesying various results. Neither
Pico nor Castro looked amiable. The Governor had arrived in the morning
to find that the General had allowed pasquinades representing his
Excellency in no complimentary light to disfigure the streets of
Monterey. Castro, when taken to task, had replied haughtily that it
was the Governor's place to look after his own dignity; he, the
Commandante-General of the army of the Californias, had more important
matters to attend to. The result had been a furious war of words, ending
in a lame peace.

"Tell us, Excellency," said Jose Abrigo, "what will be the outcome?"

"The Americans can have us if they wish," said Pio Pico, bitterly. "We
cannot prevent."

"Never!" cried Castro. "What? We cannot protect ourselves against the
invasion of bandoleros? Do you forget what blood stings the veins of
the Californian? A Spaniard stand with folded arms and see his country
plucked from him! Oh, sacrilege! They will never have our Californias
while a Californian lives to cut them down!"

"Bravo! bravo!" cried many voices.

"I tell you--" began Pio Pico, but Dona Modeste interrupted him. "No
more talk of war to-night," she said peremptorily. "Where is Ysabel?"

"She sent me word by Dona Juana that she could not make herself ready in
time to come with me, but would follow with my good friend, Don Antonio,
who of course had to wait for her. Her gown was not finished, I believe.
I think she had done something naughty, and Dona Juana had tried to
punish her, but had not succeeded. The old lady looked very sad.
Ah, here is Dona Ysabel now!"

"How lovely she is!" said Dona Modeste. "I think--What! what!--"

"Dios de mi Alma!" exclaimed Pio Pico, "where did she get those pearls?"

The crowd near the door had parted, and Ysabel entered on the arm of her
uncle. Don Antonio's form was bent, and she looked taller by contrast.
His thin sharp profile was outlined against her white neck, bared for
the first time to the eyes of Monterey. Her shawl had just been laid
aside, and he was near-sighted and did not notice the pearls.

She had sewn them all over the front of her white silk gown. She had
wound them in the black coils of her hair. They wreathed her neck and
roped her