Few gave ear to the reading of Sloat's proclamation.
Benicia, the daughter of Dona Eustaquia, raised her clasped hands, the
tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh, these Americans! How I hate them!"
she cried, a reflection of her mother's violent spirit on her sweet
face.
Dona Eustaquia caught the girl's hands and flung herself upon her neck.
"Ay! California! California!" she cried wildly. "My country is flung to
its knees in the dirt."
A rose from the upper corridor of the Custom-house struck her daughter
full in the face.
II
The same afternoon Benicia ran into the sala where her mother was lying
on a sofa, and exclaimed excitedly: "My mother! My mother! It is not
so bad. The Americans are not so wicked as we have thought. The
proclamation of the Commodore Sloat has been pasted on all the walls of
the town and promises that our grants shall be secured to us under the
new government, that we shall elect our own alcaldes, that we shall
continue to worship God in our own religion, that our priests shall
be protected, that we shall have all the rights and advantages of the
American citizen--"
"Stop!" cried Dona Eustaquia, springing to her feet.
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