Chapter X

THE BEGINNING OF THE BALL AT SEÑOR
MENDOZA'S HACIENDA HOUSE

If taste and industry had been used in decorating the exterior of Señor Mendoza's mansion for the great ballroom function, the interior gave evidence of no lack of these same qualities.

The artistic spirit of the Latin is to the manner born, and the early Californian developed his inheritance by daily communings with the beauties of earth, and air, and sky. Mendoza, moreover, had seen the wonder spots from Paris to Madrid and Vienna; and the fruits of his experience had ripened and mellowed in the years of wealth and leisure he had spent on his estate at Mission San José.

For smaller parties he had reception room, dining room and dancing hall finished in the oak that his own forests furnished, peons having skillfully hewed the wood, then, under the master's directions, polishing the grain until the markings stood out prominently.

It was the ballroom used for the baile--large party--that showed the resource of California and the cleverness of Mendoza at the best. This room, reaching the length of one side of the house, was built in redwood, of which California is sole producer.

Mammoth trees, grown on the mountains near Santa Cruz, had been felled and split from end to end. The exposed sections were trimmed and smoothed, showing, in many a curious layer of etching, the centuries these monarchs had lived. Oxen by the score and Indians by the hundreds had been engaged for months in bringing to Mission San José these timbers which, placed side by side, made the walls and ceiling of the apartment.

"Of the many wood grains," Mendoza often said, "I prefer the redwood for broad effects. The convolutions run in ampler curve and build themselves readily into large dimensions."

The room was looking its best to-night. Chandeliers, fed by sperm-oil, gave subdued light through delicately tinted shades. Candles branched from the walls, playing their softened brightness everywhere. The reddish wood glistened and showed in strong relief the story of its years.

In the corners were grouped potted plants and flowers and shrubs. Radiant bougainvilleas and flaunting hibiscus were side by side with delicate maidenhair ferns modestly featuring the mossy rocks on which they first saw life.

Rare orchids from Japan, grown robust in the kindlier air of California, strove to surpass in beauty their indigenous relatives. Poinsettias, vivid in their tintings, stood unabashed with the modest lily of the valley and the shrinking violet. The California poppy, lover of both hill and lowland, drooped its head and half folded its petals, diffident in the presence of the grandees of the floral kingdom.

The guests had not yet come into the ballroom. The reception rooms, dressing rooms, and the wide grounds still held them. The señoritas, with hair flowing over their shoulders, and clad in silken skirt and train, with bodice, also silken, close-fitting and high-necked, were not yet ready for the dance. The señoras, near their charges, were chatting away the time.

The men strolled about smoking their cigaritos, passing a word here, a jest there, until the music should call them. Their dress was that of the Spanish cavalier of the time. From their shoulders fell the poncho--long cape--made of beaver from Peru. Later in the evening this garment would be removed, showing old and young in velvet knee-pants, deer-skin leggins beautifully stamped and broidered, and with shoes of polished leather held by golden clasps.

The coat, likewise of imported beaver, reached only to the girth, and was ornamented on arms and shoulders with silver and gold thread.

Around their waists were draped bright-colored silken sashes, the ends long and sweeping. A white linen shirt, elaborately fluted and sparkling with diamonds, completed their evening dress. Men and women were lavish in their display of jewels.

Glorious, splendid California was worthily represented by her sons and daughters the night of Señor Mendoza's fiesta.

In the garden a young man in the uniform of an army officer was speaking with a girl.

"Señorita Doña Carmelita, a dance with you on the ballroom floor; another sit I with you in the open. Is it not so?"

"Señor, the Captain Morando, I promised you a mazurka, nothing more."

"Truly, señorita, but when sitting one finds words to speak the thoughts that rise in the heart while flying feet are pursuing the spirit of the dance."

"As hostess I may not deny the petition of a guest."

"O, Señorita Doña! I speak not as a guest to a hostess. I am at your feet ever, as a subject to a queen. May I not pay a vassal's homage to you? With many caballeros you tread the dance, never granting further favor. May I not be the exception?"

The señorita and the Captain were standing under a big palm. Seeing her cross the courtyard he had hastened to intercept her.

She drew away.

"Since the Señor Captain frees me from my obligation as hostess I will tell him he is well stocked in presumption."

In a moment the shadows lost the girl.

The young man was disconsolate. He buckled his sword-belt tightly, then loosened it. Pulling his laced cap lower on his forehead he moved aimlessly about.

A laugh called him to himself. In the semilight near the ballroom entrance stood the Señorita Mendoza. Mischief sparkled in her eyes.

"Señor the Captain, are you playing blind-man's-buff with yourself?"

"O, señorita mia, only a game of solitaire."

"A game of solitaire!" rippled Carmelita. "What a diversion for a ball! Señor Comandante, it is not permitted here."

A bevy of laughing young women came to the door.

"Lucinda, come, and Alfreda, and all you girls," called Carmelita. "I have here a caballero captain who needs our attention. Señoritas doñas, come quickly."

Directly they were all fluttering around Morando.

Fathers, mothers, and dueñas paused in their conversation.

"The soldier is captive," from Señora Moraga. "Let us see how the children deal with him."

"The captive is little worried," commented Señor Zelaya.

"As art thou, Pedro," said Higuera. "Thou hast thirty years and no wife. Thy heart should worry thee."

The señoritas led the Captain into the ballroom, and halted under one of the chandeliers.

"Will the Captain have gifts of gold and silver? Does the incense of friendship delight him?" asked Doña Carmelita.

"Pleasant questions from a fair questioner, señorita."

"Yes or no, Señor Captain," chorused the señoritas.

"Yes, emphatically."

A score of eggshells, filled with bits of silver and golden paper, were broken on his head and uniform. Not until the little baskets, expeditiously handed the girls by peonas, were empty did the bombardment cease.

Those looking on laughed and applauded.

"Brava! Brava! Captain," some one cried. "You are courageous."

"Yes, yes, and calm in this baptism of fire," from another.

"To a mirror! Let Captain Morando take view of the new uniform given him by the señoritas," a third.

Young and old sportively crowded around Morando and pushed him in front of a long glass. He was spangled from head to foot with white and yellow sheen, all gorgeous over the dark background of his uniform.

"A speech! A speech! Some word of thanks!" insisted the company.

Silence was not easily found in that care-free gathering. Finally Morando could be heard.

"Señoritas, and all my friends, I am happy to wear the colors that speak of sunrise. It is a double pleasure to receive such rare insignia from hands the fairest in the land."

"A good word, Captain! A good word!" exclaimed Abelardo Peralta. "Not all your vigils are spent at the shrine of war."

Señor Mendoza entered. "The musicians are idle. Motionless the feet of señorita and caballero. Why no dancing?"

"The goddess of wealth has listened to Captain Morando," informed Pedro Zelaya. "The sweet odor of his gratefulness floats around. The rest of us wonder and envy."

"Captain, turn the tables," from Mendoza. "Let not the señoritas bear all before them." To a peona, "Naomi, bring more eggs."

The eggs were passed around by dainty basketfuls to the young men who singled out their lady-loves and generously bespangled them with the confetti which, moist from scented waters, clung where it fell.

The señoritas, hair down their backs, flitted about like iridescent butterflies. Neither were they idle in egg-breaking. Demurely they would divert a caballero's attention, then quickly break a shell on his hair, coat or vest.

The men soon shone in colors as resplendent as those of the señoritas.

Perfume filled the air.

Mendoza signaled the musicians. The opening notes of the grand march sounded. The egg-breaking ceased.

Señor Mendoza and his daughter led the march. Dance after dance followed in quick succession.

"The merriment tempts not my son of late," said Señora Zelaya. "He is over in that corner talking politics with men a decade his senior. It is politics, always politics, with him now."

"Relations strain between Mexico and the United States of America. If there comes a break, California must be affected. Your son, Señora Zelaya, and all good Californians, each day are searching carefully the political horizon."

Colonel Barcelo came to them with heavy step.

"I hear, Moraga, you play a clever hand at cribbage. I haven't met my match at that since I've been in California. Come to the card room with me and try this thing out. What say?"

"I'm at your disposal, Colonel, but distrust comes to me when I think of contesting my small knowledge of the game against your undoubted excellence."

"I'll tell you over the cards of the players I've bested in Europe. Let us go now."

"Colonel Barcelo," from Señora Moraga, "are we likely to have war?"

"Señora, you are not the tenth, nor even the twentieth, who has come up and asked me that question this evening."

The portly Colonel extended his chest. "Now, I cannot, of course, speak of private or official information. No man, no real man, you understand, in my position would do so. But I will say that the combined position of comandante and acting governor-general gives me rare opportunities to become acquainted with the exact state of affairs. You understand me, of course, señora.

"Yes," rather faintly from Señora Moraga.

"Well, where was I when interrupted? O yes. This question of war. I'll simply say no force--no force, mind you--could ever take Monterey, the capital. Our swivel guns at the castle rake sea- and land-approach. We are absolutely impregnable."

"But the rest of us--of the country outside the capital?" again ventured Señora Moraga.

"No enemy of sense would care a feather for a country if the capital could not be taken. In other words, we are another Gibraltar. Come, Moraga, I always make it a practice to say as little as possible on these subjects to the señoras. They are easily alarmed. To the card room let us go, Moraga."

The men departed.

"May I serve you a mint lemonade?" asked Morando of Carmelita when the music had stopped.

She was willing.

A peon brought the refreshing drink.

He bent over the girl, carefully anticipating her each want.

"Señorita Doña, the sugar? and more lemon juice? Good! Now a spoon."

"Forget not yourself, Señor Comandante."

Soon he too was served.

"Señorita Doña, may I speak to you? I cannot refrain."

She smiled at him over the edge of her glass. "It seems to me you have been speaking to me for some time. The thoughts are bubbling up which the dance set free, as you said in the garden a while ago. Is it not so?" She laughed.

The Captain signaled a passing peona who removed the emptied goblets.

"Señorita Carmelita, pray take my words seriously. I think of you, and I dream of you. Your image is enshrined in my heart. Before it I do homage. O, Señorita Doña, I offer you the best devotion of a soldier whose greatest hope is to love and to cherish you, and to make you happy. Will you not listen?"

She blushed and her hands trembled slightly.

"Speak to me, Doña. Bid me hope, even ever so little. The endeavor of my life shall be to become worthy of you. Will you not say there is hope for me?"

Intensity blazed in the eyes of the handsome soldier, and gave resonance to his voice. He took the girl's hand. She but half resisted.

The settee which they occupied was partly screened by palms from the rest of the ballroom. A bevy of señoritas, passing through during the intermission, exchanged knowing glances as they came in sight of the two, and went on. The man and woman did not notice them.

"O, Carmelita, will you not answer me when I say I love you? and tell me in return that you love me? Will you not, Carmelita mia?"

She did not try to withdraw her hand. Her eyelids drooped, and the color of the rose swam anew in her cheeks.

"O, Carmelita, beloved of my heart, say you love me," rapturously.

"Sorry to interrupt you, but music for the waltz has begun, and I have the honor to be your partner."

It was Patricio Martinez, who bore Carmelita away with him to the waiting dance.

Morando spoke in a low tone to her: "I'll see you again presently. May I not?"

It was not easy for him to see her again soon. The young gallants crowded around her begging for dances, or pressing their favors on her during the rest times.

Morando danced several times, then left the ballroom and wandered through the reception rooms, joining a group of men who were discussing the possibilities of wheat-raising in the Santa Clara Valley; then, another coterie who debated the relative merits of Alta California and Baja California. Finally, he became one of a company gathered around Señora Valentino.

"We change location, but not scenes," she said to him. "One might well fancy himself in Madrid to-night instead of Mission San José."

"It is so, señora."

After a little Morando continued wandering, until he came to the conservatory where he sat down.

"I'll remain here till Carmelita is disengaged," was his thought. "She almost listened to me. If she accepts me, I'll be the happiest man in the world."

He spoke half aloud.

"Your voice, Señor Capitan, tells me you are here. Otherwise, I might have missed you. What a cozy retreat you have amid these branching ferns!"

It was Señora Valentino.

The Captain's full height bowed to the lady.

"Will you not be seated, señora? Pardon me for not seeing you sooner."

"The pardon is yours. Will you not, also, be seated?" making room for him at her side.

"I thank you. The favor of your company honors me greatly."

The señora inclined her head. The gems in her hair gleamed responsively to the bright lights. The white silk of her gown lay softly against the vivid green of the ferns.

"Señor Capitan, I am impelled to come and talk with you."

"My dear lady, I am honored."

"I wish to make appeal to you."

She looked straight into the man's eyes.

"Señora Valentino, if I can do anything for you, I am thereby most happy."

"Many thanks, Señor Soldier. I shall begin."

Morando was all attention.

"Señor Capitan, the traditions, the art, the faith of Spain live very near to my heart. They have made old Spain glorious. The world's history would be vastly poorer without them."

"Truly, señora."

"This province, even now, is smiling under their influence. The future has splendid things in store for us here if the heritage from across the sea has way unimpeded. May there not be another Castile beside this Western coast only less magnificent than the first?"

"Señora Valentino, you give my own thoughts."

"I rejoice, Señor Capitan. But on whom rests the duty of safeguarding this heritage? Is it not on us, the sons and daughters of Castile?"

"Most unquestionably, señora."

"Then, let us exert ourselves. Political unrest is agitating the people. It is as yet formless, but soon it must flow in settled stream, for men's thoughts, like water, always seek their level. Señor Soldier, the part of every lover of Castile is plain."

"Please say further, señora."

"Mexico and California soon go their separate ways. Is it not so?"

"I think it is."

"The world moves, Captain Morando, and California must move with it. Whither do we go?"

Without waiting for reply she went on: "Public opinion can be so molded that it will take us to the protection of either the United States of America or to Great Britain. Great Britain would willingly let flourish here Spanish ideals. Read the history of her dependencies. Captain Morando, our obligations to Spain, to this province, to ourselves, demand that we lead the people to ask the coming of the British flag."

"Señora Valentino, many are speaking of these matters. The necessity for some action is forcing itself. But the United States lies nearest us. Their government is republican, the same in form as that to which the people here are accustomed."

"Ah! Capitan. I have been in the capital of the United States with my attaché husband. Two years ago what did I hear? It was a question of Texas coming into their Union. Even the great ones said, 'Let us drive the Mexicans and Spaniards across the Rio Grande, then to perdition!'"

Morando did not speak.

"They would not deal differently with us in California. Let come the United States and all vestige of Spanish civilization will be obliterated, and another foreign to it will be installed. Great Britain would be our protector. Why chance the coming of disaster?"

"Señora, you have thought wondrously deep."

"Why not act, and act now? Public sentiment is in pliable condition. Who knows how long it will so continue? Do your part, Señor Soldier, in organizing a general desire that our province seek Great Britain's friendly arm. Spanish chivalry calls to you."

"You speak strongly."

"Not more strongly than the occasion demands. The welfare of this province, the faith of our fathers, the culture of centuries, are at stake. The United States of America is awake. That mighty nation has her agents among our people, persuading them, leading them, exhorting them. Señor Soldier, be up and doing."

"Señora, come what may, I shall not fail this province."

He touched the hilt of his sword.

"The splendid womanhood of California will crown you their knight, my soldier."

They arose and walked away. In the doorway they paused.

"For Castile and this province!" she said.

"By my sword and glove, señora!"

She extended her hand. He met it in firm grasp.

The call for supper had been made, but they had not heard.

The company was around them.

"Ah, Captain! Ah, señora! what have we here? a betrothal?"

Carmelita Mendoza, with her father, was but a pace away.

"Friends, friends, to the supper room!" called the host.

The guests obeyed.