And he is alone!"
She flung herself across Dona Eustaquia's knees and burst into violent
sobbing.
Dona Eustaquia laid her strong arm about her friend, but her eyes were
more angry than soft. "Weep no more, Modeste," she said. "Rather, arise
and curse those who have flung a great man into the dust. But comfort
thyself. Who can know? Thy husband, weary with fighting, disgusted with
men, may cling the closer to thee, and with thee and thy children forget
the world in thy redwood forests or between the golden hills of thy
ranchos."
Dona Modeste shook her head. "Thou speakest the words of kindness, but
thou knowest Jose. Thou knowest that he would not be content to be as
other men. And, ay! Eustaquia, to think that it was opposite our own
dear home, our favourite home, that the American flag should first have
been raised! Opposite the home of Jose Castro!"
"To perdition with Fremont! Why did he, of all places, select San Juan
Bautista in which to hang up his American rag?"
"We never can live there again. The Gabilan Mountains would shut out the
very face of the sun from my husband.
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