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The Rose Dawn. Stewart Edward White
Читать онлайн.Название The Rose Dawn
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066061883
Автор произведения Stewart Edward White
Жанр Документальная литература
Издательство Bookwire
Thus roused the Colonel stepped out more briskly. He passed the large stables and their neatly whitewashed corral fences with hardly more than a glance, opened two big swing gates and proceeded with brisk steps between a double row of small houses toward another group of live oaks beyond it and atop a small, flat hill.
But he was not to be permitted to pass unchecked. A bevy of very small brown children swooped down on him noisily, came to a dead halt and an equally dead silence a few paces from him and stared, round-eyed and expectant. They were very handsome children, somewhat grimy, with sketchy garments and bare feet. The Colonel thrust his hands behind the coat-tails of his frock coat and contemplated them gravely. They stared back without either embarrassment or impertinence.
"Buenos dias, niños," observed the Colonel at last.
"Buenas dias, Don Ricardo!" returned the little group in chorus.
From this point you are to consider the Colonel as speaking in the soft and beautiful language of California, with a deepening and mellowing of his natural manner. The Colonel continued to survey them for some moments, his blue eyes twinkling, the fine network of lines deepening. The children stared back.
"I will wish you good day," said the Colonel at last, moving as though to pass.
The great soft Spanish eyes about him clouded with dismay, the red full lips drooped at the corners, but the polite chorus came bravely back:
"God be with you, señor."
The Colonel laughed aloud, thrust his hand in his coat-tail pocket, and brought it forth filled with little hard peppermint lozenges. These he distributed, one to each, receiving a succession of staid "muchas gracias, señor." He continued his walk. The children, sucking ecstatically at the fiery sweetmeat, fell gravely in behind. Some lank black-and-tan hounds stretched at full length in the dust rapped vigorously with thick tails—thus raising a smudge—; arose and shook themselves—thus raising another; and trailed along, too.
Half way up the gentle slope that led to the second grove of live oaks the Colonel was met by a very lean, dark saturnine man with long, drooping moustaches and deep, vertical muscle-lines running across his countenance. He too wore the low-crowned Stetson with the addition of a woven, horsehair band. As to the rest of his costume, he affected the modern rather than the traditional, although he was evidently pure Spanish. That is to say, he wore a vest but no coat, and tucked his striped trousers into soft-legged, high-heeled boots. His shirt sleeves, however, were bound by very frilly pink elastic bands with huge rosettes; his waist was encircled by a leather belt studded with conchas of silver; at his heels clanked loose spurs of great size, inlaid with silver, jingling with little clappers at the rowels, strapped with broad carved leather, ornamented at the buttons with silver conchas fully two inches across. A picturesque enough figure to satisfy any small boy, even though he carried no traditional "gun," nor wore traditional chaparejos—"chaps." This was Manuelo, major domo, after the Colonel the most important figure on del Monte.
He swept his hat from his head; the Colonel raised his Stetson. Formal and stately greetings were exchanged according to the formulae in use among the Spanish. They fell in step and continued up the hill.
"All is in order, señor?" the Colonel asked.
"All is in order, señor," assured Manuelo. "It was a matter of anxiety that young Juan had not returned with the pepper sauce promised us by the Doña Paredis. There is no pepper sauce like that of the Doña Paredis."
"That is true, señor," observed the Colonel.
"But happily he has returned at dawn. Why inquire? Here is the pepper sauce of the Doña Paredis delivered—Bright eyes or bright wine, señor; who knows?"
"And to leave either at dawn," said the Colonel, "is both penance and testimony of a soul devoted to duty in spite of all."
"Or a late remembrance that he must meet Manuelo," added that worthy, a little grimly. "But here are matters for your inspection, Don Ricardo."
Beneath the wide spreading branches of the live oak tree had been built row after row of long board tables flanked by benches. These were evidently of long past date, for their lumber was browned and weather stained. But already they were partly concealed by pyramids of fruit cunningly heaped, by batteries of cutlery and tin plates and cups, by long loaves of bread, by tin pans full of walnuts and almonds, by bottles and glasses of condiments and jellies. A number of young girls and older children were darting here and there with armfuls of flowers which they arranged artfully still further to hide the brown planks—brodea, the great white Matilija poppies, Mariposa lilies, branches of mountain lilac, and above all great quantities of glowing golden-orange California poppies, like morsels of sunset entrapped. A very fat Californian woman sat on one of the benches and directed these activities. She had smooth, shining black hair, and a smooth, shining brown countenance, and beautiful black eyes from which unexpectedly youth peered.
"The tables are beautiful, señora," said the Colonel.
"Ay de mi," sighed the fat woman. "These children—they know not the old arrangements of flowers. When I was a young girl——"
"The caballeros gave you little time for flowers, señora, that I'll wager. It must be so, for never have I seen the tables better than to-day."
Señora Manuelo raised her fan from her lap to her face. The change was startling. The lower grosser part of her countenance was covered. Only were visible the slumberous youthful eyes, the smooth brow, the shining black parted hair. Returned for a magic moment was all the beauty of her youth. The Colonel bowed in farewell, shaking his head slightly.
"No, never time for flowers, señora; for men are not blind."
Two of the tables at the end were covered with white table-cloths, and furnished out with china and glassware and silver. This was for the Colonel's personal guests as distinguished from the ranch retainers and those of his neighbours. Here two pretty girls were engaged, selecting from some wash tubs of roses. They were very pretty in a soft young rounded fashion, with the lustrous, dreamy eyes and shining hair of their race. Not yet had they begun to ape the complexities of the American toilette. Their rather full, curved young figures were clad in plain white starched muslin, and their hair was parted smoothly and confined in the back by high fan-shaped combs. Each had thrust one of the roses intended for the decorations over her left ear. I regret to say also that each had plastered on an inordinate quantity of white powder; but that was the custom. At the Colonel's approach with Manuelo they ceased their ativities and stood side by side.
"The table is most beautiful," said the Colonel.
"Si, señor," they bobbed together, breathlessly.
"You have plenty of roses?"
"Si, señor."
"Do you enjoy yourselves at the merienda?"
"Si, señor."
The Colonel surveyed them quizzically. They were very correct, very respectful, very much in earnest to do the right thing before the master of the Rancho. His hand sought his coat-tail pocket.
"Did you ever see anything like that before?" he demanded, holding up one of his peppermint lozenges.
They looked at each other, and their hands groped for each other seeking encouragement at so embarrassing a question.
"Señorita Ynez Calderon, and you, Señorita Dolores Ygnacio," said the Colonel, "you are a pair of solemn frauds. You treat me, me, as though I were the holy father and the blessed San Antonio and a total stranger, all in one. And last year," he turned to the saturnine Manuelo, "last year, mind you, they stood before me barefoot, in camisa only, and begged me for these!" Again he held up the peppermint.
The girls dissolved toward one