The Doomswoman | Page 3

in the carriage of her head; to say
nothing of that brother whom she adores. She learned this morning that
it was Diego's determined opposition that kept Reinaldo out of the
Departmental Junta, and meets him in no tender frame of mind----"
Doña Martina raised her hand. Chonita stood in the door-way. She was
quite beautiful enough to plant thorns where she listed. Her tall supple
figure was clothed in white, and over her gold hair--lurid and brilliant,

but without a tinge of red--she wore a white lace mantilla. Her straight
narrow brows and heavy lashes were black; but her skin was more
purely white than her gown. Her nose was finely cut, the arch almost
indiscernible, and she had the most sculptured mouth I have ever seen.
Her long eyes were green, dark, and luminous. Sometimes they had the
look of a child, sometimes she allowed them to flash with the fire of an
animated spirit. But the expression she chose to cultivate was that
associated with crowned head and sceptered hand; and sure no queen
had ever looked so calm, so inexorable, so haughty, so terribly clear of
vision. She never posed--for any one, at least, but herself. For some
reason--a youthful reason probably--the iron in her nature was most
admired by her. Wherefore,--also, as she had the power, as twin, to heal
and curse,--I had named her the Doomswoman, and by this name she
was known far and wide. By the lower class of Santa Barbara she was
called The Golden Señorita, on account of her hair and of her father's
vast wealth.
"Come," she said, "every one is waiting. Do not you hear the voices?"
The windows were closed, but through them came a murmur like that
of a pine forest.
The governor motioned to the nurse to follow Chonita and myself, and
she trotted after us, her ugly face beaming with pride of position. Was
not in her arms the oldest-born of a new generation of Alvarados? the
daughter of the governor of The Californias? Her smock, embroidered
with silk, was new, and looked whiter than fog against her bare brown
arms and face. Her short red satin skirt, a gift of her happy lady's, was
the finest ever worn by exultant nurse. About her stringy old throat was
a gold chain, bright red roses were woven in her black reboso. I saw her
admire Chonita's stately figure with scornful reserve of the colorless
gown.
We were followed in a moment by the governor, adjusting his collar
and smoothing his hair. As he reached the door-way at the front of the
house he was greeted with a shout from assembled Monterey. The
plaza was gay with beaming faces and bright attire. The men, women,
and children of the people were on foot, a mass of color on the opposite

side of the plaza: the women in gaudy cotton frocks girt with silken
sashes, tawdry jewels, and spotless camisas, the coquettish reboso
draping with equal grace faces old and brown, faces round and olive;
the men in glazed sombreros, short calico jackets and trousers; Indians
wound up in gala blankets. In the foreground, on prancing
silver-trapped horses, were caballeros and doñas, laughing and
coquetting, looking down in triumph upon the dueñas and parents who
rode older and milder mustangs and shook brown knotted fingers at
heedless youth. The young men had ribbons twisted in their long black
hair, and silver eagles on their soft gray sombreros. Their velvet serapes
were embroidered with gold; the velvet knee-breeches were laced with
gold or silver cord over fine white linen; long deer-skin botas were
gartered with vivid ribbon; flaunting sashes bound their slender waists,
knotted over the hip. The girls and young married women wore black
or white mantillas, the silken lace of Spain, regardless of the sun which
might darken their Castilian fairness. Their gowns were of flowered
silk or red or yellow satin, the waist long and pointed, the skirt full;
jeweled buckles of tiny slippers flashed beneath the hem. The old
people were in rich dress of sober color. A few Americans were there
in the ugly garb of their country, a blot on the picture.
At the door, just in front of the cavalcade, stood General Vallejo's
carriage, the only one in California, sent from Sonoma for the occasion.
Beside it were three superbly-trapped horses.
The governor placed the swelling nurse in the carriage, then glanced
about him. "Where is Estenega?--and the Castros?" he asked.
"There are Don José and Doña Modeste Castro," said Chonita.
The crowd had parted suddenly, and two men and a woman rode
toward the governor. One of the men was tall and dark, and his somber
military attire became the stern sadness of his face. Castro was not
Comandante-general of the army