"Pray no more, my friend," she said. "Our prayers have been unheard, and thou art better in bed or with thy friends."
Doña Modeste threw herself wearily into a chair, but took Doña Eustaquia's hand in a tight clasp. Her white skin shone in the dim light, and with her black hair and green tragic eyes made her look like a little witch queen, for neither suffering nor humiliation could bend that stately head.
"Religion is my solace," she said, "my only one; for I have not a brain of iron nor a soul of fire like thine. And, Eustaquia, I have more cause to pray to-night."
"It is true, then, that José is in retreat? Ay, Mary!"
"My husband, deserted by all but one hundred men, is flying southward from San Juan Bautista. I have it from the wash-tub mail. That never is wrong."
"Ingrates! Traitors! But it is true, Modeste--surely, no?--that our general will not surrender? That he will stand against the Americans?"
"He will not yield. He would have marched upon Monterey and forced them to give him battle here but for this base desertion. Now he will go to Los Angeles and command the men of the South to rally about him."
"I knew that he would not kiss the boots of the Americans like the rest of our men! Oh, the cowards! I could almost say to-night that I like better the Americans than the men of my own race. _They_ are Castros! I shall hate their flag so long as life is in me; but I cannot hate the brave men who fight for it. But my pain is light to thine. Thy heart is wrung, and I am sorry for thee."
"My day is over. Misfortune is upon us. Even if my husband's life is spared--ay! shall I ever see him again?--his position will be taken from him, for the Americans will conquer in the end. He will be Commandante-General of the army of the Californias no longer, but--holy God!--a ranchero, a caballero! He at whose back all California has galloped! Thou knowest his restless aspiring soul, Eustaquia, his ambition, his passionate love of California. Can there be happiness for such a man humbled to the dust--no future! no hope? Ay!"--she sprang to her feet with arms uplifted, her small slender form looking twice its height as it palpitated against the shadows, "I feel the bitterness of that spirit! I know how that great heart is torn. And he is alone!" She flung herself across Doña Eustaquia's knees and burst into violent sobbing.