Chapter XI: At the Supper

"My friends, nature prepares a generous harvest against the months of winter. Let us enjoy the good things at table in anticipation of our share of that harvest. Amigos, to our seats!"

Thus spoke Mendoza to the company assembled in the dining hall.

This room was a little smaller than the ballroom, and its finish was of polished oak combined with redwood. The tables ran nearly the length of the apartment.

The products of Mendoza's gardens and hothouses had been levied on to furnish adornment. Cut roses tumbled in profusion from vases arranged along the middle of the tables, while potted palms cast shadows from chandeliers and wall-candles. Ivy shaped itself into an archway over the entrance, crept through the foliage of house shrubs lining the walls, and intertwined here and there into bowers of ease. Against the green vine, flowers, rivaling the rainbow in tints, sang in color notes the jubilation of California's spring.

The people enjoyed the midnight supper. The cooling air of the courtyard, the dance, the animated conversation had whetted the appetites to an edge.

Finding place not in any particular order, but in the company their preference sought, as was the way in these large gatherings, the girls, with their dueñas, and the gallants were mostly at one end of the room, leaving the graver portion of the assembly by itself.

Señor Mendoza was at the head of a table. At its foot was his daughter. Near him was the wisdom of the valley, represented by the heads of families. Morando wished to seat himself at the señorita's right hand, but she had already motioned Abelardo Peralta to that place. On her left was Alfreda Castro.

The soldier found himself next to young Peralta, and directly opposite Señora Valentino.

"I have a budding magnolia by my plate," burst out Lolita Hernandez. "My partner shall wear it for a button-hole bouquet. He lacks only that. Come, I'll put it on you."

The youth by her side was nothing loth.

"Señorita Doña," spoke her dueña, who was on the other side, "what can you mean? A nosegay so large emulates the cabbage. Why not use this Castilian rose? Behold, it blushes for you," laughing.

"Señora Doña, even a cabbage in Señorita Hernandez's hands would thereby become beautiful," from the youth.

"How easily young men's tongues frame compliments!" from the dueña.

"They have worthy subjects here," from another youth, waving his hand toward the señoritas.

The dueña laughed again. "Young people are unmanageable these days," she concluded.

"Señor the Capitan Morando did not enjoy the egg-breaking?" inquired young Peralta.

"We enjoyed it," laughed Lolita without waiting for Morando's reply.

"I broke an egg on your hair, señorita. I see the gold and silver adornment still," rallied Peralta.

"I broke three on your vest, Señor Peralta. I'm sorry you could not have preserved the pattern," returned Lolita.

"But the Señor Capitan and the egg-breaking--was it new to you?" continued Don Abelardo.

"It was unexpected to me here, but not new," from Morando. "Spain observes it on such occasions as this."

"Ask the Señor Capitan about heart-breaking," laughed the ungovernable Lolita. "Perhaps he has practiced that too in Spain."

"Señorita Doña Hernandez!" warningly from her dueña.

"Well, I am as curious to know about that as was Don Abelardo about egg-breaking."

"Practice makes perfect, is that your meaning?" smiled Señora Valentino at her.

"Yes--no. I simply asked for information."

"Is the Señorita Hernandez still heart-whole?" inquired the soldier. "If she is not, it is not the fault of my sex, I know."

"Do you speak from the fullness of experience, Señor Capitan?" asked Señorita Mendoza. Those in hearing laughed gayly at the quip, as did Morando. Nevertheless, an arctic breath seemed to touch him.

The elders gave themselves to other subjects--the grain and the vineyard prospects for the year, the return of their herds from the San Joaquin, and the like.

Colonel Barcelo's voice was heard talking over his contest at cribbage with Moraga.

The serving peons finished their work and were standing idly by the door. The guests had eaten their fill. The room rang with merriment. Many of the señoritas had woven flowers from the tables into wreaths and were wearing them on the head or around the neck. Lolita Hernandez wished to crown her partner with roses, but the youth, with mock humility, demurred.

"Thrice did even the great Cæsar refuse a crown," he exclaimed.

"Listen to the lore of the traveler," laughed Peralta.

The other had just returned from a year at college in Honolulu. "The fourth offer I might accept," he said.

Lolita promptly placed the wreath on his head. "I crown you king of heartbreakers," but looking at Morando.

"I salute the king," proclaimed the Captain.

"Whom shall I crown queen of heart-breakers?" Lolita went on.

"Crown yourself," from her partner. "Señorita, the honor should be yours."

"Hush!" in pretended severity.

"All hearts fall before you," sweeping his arm toward the company. "Crown yourself; nay, I'll crown you."

He removed the garland from his own head and attempted to place it on Lolita's. She resisted. The señoritas and the gallants laughed and cheered loudly. Finally she took it from his hand and held it aloft.

"I appeal to the company here present; who is the queen of heart-breakers? This crown is looking for a wearer."

"Alfreda Castro! Carmelita Mendoza! Ysobel Soto! Señora Valentino!" came from the crowd.

"The Señora Valentino should have it. She has overcome the Captain Morando. 'Sword and glove' has he surrendered to her. It was at the door of the supper room. I saw it. Señora Valentino, the wreath is thine."

"Señorita Doña Hernandez!" remonstrated her dueña. "Remember the señora is not a maid as art thou. Have care for thy tongue."

Lolita started toward Señora Valentino.

"Come back, Señorita Lolita," from the dueña.

Lolita partly turned, but Señora Valentino was laughing, in evident enjoyment of the fun. Reassured, the girl called to the company:

"Shall it not be the señora?'

"The Señora Valentino!" they cried. "Our fair guest from Spain! Honor her! Crown her queen of heart-breakers!"

The señora smiled sweetly at the joyous throng, as much at home in the frolic as anyone among them.

Lolita placed the wreath on the señora's head. "As thy friends acclaim, so I do. You are pronounced queen of heart-breakers."

What reply the señora made could not be heard for the applause, but she kissed first one hand, then the other, to the señoritas and the caballeros.

Mendoza was standing by his place at the table. He motioned again and again for silence before it was obtained. Finally they listened to him.

"To the ballroom for you youngsters! Come with me."

"Will you stay with us in the ballroom, señor? We want you," laughed a girl.

"I'll start you going in the dance, then return to the table. We elders like to linger a while over our coffee and burnt brandy. But come now, children."

They followed him through the green archway into the ballroom.

When the señor had left the supper room, taking the younger contingent with him, the others had moved toward his end of the table. Barcelo insisted that Moraga should at once accompany him to the card room; whereupon rather reluctantly Moraga left his old friends.

Marcel Hernandez arose to his feet.

"Fellow rancheros, and your ladies," bowing gallantly, "Señor Mendoza, occupied with the young people, is temporarily absent from the room--he is quite a boy, is the señor--and I take occasion to say a word to you. The old government here is worn out, ready to fall to pieces like a used-up carreta. We, the leaders of the people, must find another government--find another; yes, and soon. We have talked it over this evening; in fact, have talked of little else for weeks and months. Let us take action to-night."

He sat down deliberately.

A half dozen men sprang to their feet. All dignity was thrown aside, and they raised their voices and gesticulated earnestly.

"It is not yet the time," called one.

"It is the time, and----"

Another drowned him out by shouting, "Let us seek adequate protection from some great nation which will insure us life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

"Mexico falls soon before the United States. We shall be declared contraband of war and suffer the consequences, unless we act quickly and in the right direction," asserted yet another.

Don Louis Valencia arose.

"Friends, you speak wisely. Nothing more need be said. Let us act. I say, make our province a dependency of Great Britain. That country will protect us. Señors, now is the time. Great Britain will be our ally and friend. I repeat, take action--and now!" thumping his fist on the table.

Señor Mendoza returned from the ballroom at that moment. He went to his chair at the table. All became silent.

They waited for him to speak on the matter which was occupying so much attention in California. The stillness became intense.

"Neighbors and friends," Mendoza said at last, "what I heard as I entered tells me the import of the debate which evidently took place while I was absent. I hope nothing will come to head at present."

"It must come to head!" from Hernandez. "Why not take the bull by the horns?" looking at Higuera. "I mean, why not take initiative here and now? It is unsafe to wait."

Valencia seconded Hernandez's words.

"The wise traveler," counseled Mendoza, "surveys an unknown way rood by rood. Señor Hernandez and friends, before taking positive action we should consider the path along which we would find ourselves."

"It is either the United States or England," argued Valencia. "No other nation need be considered. Why not declare for one or the other before another day?"

"Quite right, neighbor Valencia, quite right!" supported Hernandez.

"The rest of the province is undecided, as we have been. We now know our minds. Let us speak them. The others will follow, and the vexed question is at an end," again from Valencia.

"But do we know our minds well enough to speak them?" questioned Mendoza.

"We do! We do!" replied Valencia.

"Huzza! Huzza!" shouted Hernandez.

"Better consider!" cautioned Higuera.

"Slowness never wins the race," retorted Valencia.

"The tortoise won the race from the hare," rebutted Higuera.

The dancing had not held all those who had gone with Señor Mendoza to the ballroom. The atmosphere around the table of the elders was surcharged with subtle influence which drew many back. By twos and threes they came. Señora Valentino and Abelardo Peralta were among them; Captain Morando also.

"Prepare to become an English province," now from young Peralta.

Not a few were of that conviction. "England is just. England allows her dependencies to flourish in their own way," they declared.

"Huzza! Huzza!" again shouted Hernandez. "Viva England!"

Morando arose.

"I make no preference save this," he said. "We must preserve here Spanish ideals, Spanish manhood and womanhood."

"Excellent!" commended the host. "Splendid!"

"Splendid!" echoed Señora Valentino, clapping her hands.

The women followed her example. "Yes, yes, Spanish manhood and womanhood!" they exclaimed.

The Señorita Carmelita came to her father's chair.

"Papacito, the time soon comes for El Son. We await you in the ballroom."

"At once, little one."

The elders left the table, and the entire company moved toward the door.

"For Castilian manhood and womanhood in this province!" Señora Valentino said to Morando.

"Sword and glove!" enthusiastically in return.

Again their palms met in compact.

For the second time that evening Carmelita saw the fervent hand-clasp.