VI.
At ten o'clock the large sala of the Governor's house was throngedwith guests, and the music of the flute, harp, and guitar floatedthrough the open windows: the musicians sat on the corridor. Howharmonious was the Monterey ball-room of that day!--the women in theirwhite gowns of every rich material, the men in white trousers, blacksilk jackets, and low morocco shoes; no color except in the jewelsand the rich Southern faces. The bare ugly sala, from which the uglierfurniture had been removed, needed no ornaments with that movingbeauty; and even the coffee-colored, high-stomached old people werepicturesque. I wander through those deserted salas sometimes, and,as the tears blister my eyes, imagination and memory people the coldrooms, and I forget that the dashing caballeros and lovely donas whoonce called Monterey their own and made it a living picture-book aredust beneath the wild oats and thistles of the deserted cemetery onthe hill. The Americans hardly know that such a people once existed.
Chonita entered the sala at eleven o'clock, looking like a snow queen.Her gold hair, which always glittered like metal, was arranged tosimulate a crown; she wore a gown of Spanish lace, and no jewels butthe string of black pearls. I never had seen her look so cold and soregal.
Estenega stepped out upon the corridor. "Play El Son," he said,peremptorily. Then as the vivacious music began he walked over toChonita and clapped his hands in front of her as authoritatively ashe had bidden the musicians. What he did was of frequent occurrencein the Californian ball-room, but she looked haughtily rebellious. Hecontinued to strike his hands together, and looked down upon herwith an amused smile which brought the angry color to her face. Herhesitation aroused the eagerness of the other men, and they criedloudly--
"El Son! El Son! senorita."
She could no longer refuse, and, passing Estenega with head erect,she bent it slightly to the caballeros and passed to the middle of theroom, the other guests retreating to the wall. She stood for a moment,swaying her body slightly; then, raising her gown high enough forthe lace to sweep the instep of her small arched feet, she tappedthe floor in exact time to the music for a few moments, then glideddreamily along the sala, her willowy body falling in lovely lines,unfolding every detail of El Son, unheeding the low ripple ofapproval. Then, dropping her gown, she spun the length of the roomlike a white cloud caught in a cyclone; her garments whirred,her heels clicked, her motion grew faster and swifter, until thespectators panted for breath. Then, unmindful of the lively melody,she drifted slowly down, swaying languidly, her long round arms nowlolling in the lace of her gown, now lifted to graceful sweep andcurve. The caballeros shouted their appreciation, flinging gold andsilver at her feet; never had El Son been given with such variationsbefore. Never did I see greater enthusiasm until the night whichculminated the tragedy of Ysabel Herrera. Estenega stood enraptured,watching every motion of her body, every expression of her face.The blood blazed in her cheeks, her eyes were like green stars andsparkled wickedly. The cold curves of her statuesque mouth were warmand soft, her chin was saucily uplifted, her heavy waving hair fellover her shoulders to her knees, a glittering veil. Where had TheDoomswoman, the proud daughter of the Iturbi y Moncadas, gone?
The girls were a little frightened: this was not the Son to which theywere accustomed. The young matrons frowned. The old people exclaimed,"Caramba!" "Mother of God!" "Holy Mary!" I was aghast; well as I knewher, this was a piece of audacity for which I was unprepared.
As the dance went on and she grew more and more like an untamedwood-nymph, even the caballeros became vaguely uneasy, hotly as theyadmired the beautiful wild thing enchaining their gaze. I looked againat Estenega and knew that his heart beat in passionate sympathy.
"I have found _her_," he murmured, exultantly. "She is California,magnificent, audacious, incomprehensible, a creature of storms andconvulsions and impregnable calm; the germs of all good and all bad inher; a woman sublimated. Every husk of tradition has fallen from her."
Once, as she passed Estenega, her eyes met his. They lit with a glanceof recognition, then the lids drooped and she floated on. He left theroom; and when he returned she sat on a window-seat, surrounded bycaballeros, as calm and as pale as when he had commanded her to dance.He did not approach her, but, joined me at the upper end of the sala,where I stood with Alvarado, the Castros, Don Thomas Larkin, theUnited States Consul, and a half-dozen others. We were discussingChonita's interpretation of El Son.
"That was a strange outbreak for a Spanish girl," said Senor Larkin.
"She is Chonita Iturbi y Moncada," said Castro, severely. "She is likeno other woman, and what she does is right."
The consul bowed. "True, coronel. I have seen no one here like DonaChonita. There is a delicious uniformity about the Californian women:so reserved, shrinking yet dignified, ever on their guard. DonaChonita changed so swiftly from the typical woman of her race to anhouri, almost a bacchante,--only an extraordinary refinement of naturekept her this side of the line,--that an American would be tempted tocall her eccentric."
Alvarado lifted his hand and pointed through the window to the stars."The golden coals in the blue fire of heaven are not higher abovecensure," he said.
Dona Modeste raised her eyebrows. "Coals are safest when burned onthe domestic hearth and carefully watched; safer still when they havefallen to ashes."
"What is this rumor of pirates on the coast?" demanded Alvarado,abruptly.
I put my hand through Estenega's arm and drew him aside. The music ofthe contradanza was playing, and we stood against the wall.
"Well, you know Chonita better since that dance," I said to him."Polar stars are not unlikely to have volcanoes. Better let the deepsalone, my friend; the lava might scorch you badly. Women of complexnatures are interesting studies, but dangerous to love. They wear thenerves to a point, and the tired brain and heart turn gratefully tothe crystalline, idle-minded woman. She is too much like yourself,Diego. And you,--how long could you love anybody? Love with you meanscuriosity."
His face looked like chalk for a moment, an indication with him ofsuppressed and violent emotion. Then he turned his head and regardedme with a slight smile. "Not altogether. You forget that the mostfaithless men have been the most faithful when they have found theone woman. Curiosity and fickleness are merely parts of a restlessseeking,--nothing more."
"I was sure you would acquit yourself with credit! But you have anunholy charm, and you never hesitate to exert it."
He laughed outright. "One would think I was a rattlesnake. My unholycharm consists of a reasonable amount of address born of a greatweakness for women and some personal magnetism,--the latter theoffspring of the habit of mental concentration--"
"And an inexorable will--"
"Perhaps. As to the exercise of it--why not? _Vive la bagatelle!_"
"It is useless to argue with you. Are you going to let that girlalone?"
"She is the only girl in the Californias whom I shall not let alone."
I could have shaken him. "To what end? And her brother? I haveoften wondered which would rule you in a crisis, your head or yourpassions."
"It would depend upon the crisis. I am afraid you are right,--thataltiloquent Reinaldo will give trouble."
"Is it true that he has been conspiring with Carillo, and that anextraordinary and secret session of the Departmental Junta has beencalled?"
He looked down upon me with his grimmest smile. "You curious littlewoman! You must not put your white fingers into the Departmental pie.If you had been a man, with as good a brain as you have for a woman,you would have been an ornament to our politics. But as it is--pardonme--the better for our balancing country the less you have to do withit."
I could feel my eyes snap. "You respect no woman's mind," I said,savagely; "nothing but the woman in her. But I will not quarrel withyou. Tell that baby over there to come and waltz with me."
At dawn, as we entered our room, I seized Chonita by the shoulders andshook her. "What did you mean by such a performance?" I demanded. "Itwas unprecedented!"
She threw back her head and laughed. "I could not help it," she said."First I felt an irresistible desire to show Monterey that I dareddo anything I chose. And then I have a wild something in me which hasoften threatened to break loose before; and to-night it did. It wasthat man. He made me."
"_Ay, Dios!"_ I thought, "it has begun already."
The Doomswoman: An Historical Romance of Old California Page 6