I.


It was at Governor Alvarado's house in Monterey that Chonita first
knew of Diego Estenega. I had told him much of her, but had never
cared to mention the name of Estenega in the presence of an Iturbi y
Moncada.

Chonita came to Monterey to stand godmother to the child of Alvarado
and of her friend Doña Martina, his wife. She arrived the morning
before the christening, and no one thought to tell her that Estenega
was to be godfather. The house was full of girls, relatives of
the young mother, gathered for the ceremony and subsequent week of
festivities. Benicia, my little one, was at the rancho with Ysabel
Herrera, and I was staying with the Alvarados. So many were the guests
that Chonita and I slept together. We had not seen each other for a
year, and had so much to say that we did not sleep at all. She was
ten years younger than I, but we were as close friends as she with her
alternate frankness and reserve would permit. But I had spent several
months of each year since childhood at her home in Santa Barbara,
and I knew her better than she knew herself; when, later, I read her
journal, I found little in it to surprise me, but much to fill and
cover with shapely form the skeleton of the story which passed in
greater part before my eyes.

We were discussing the frivolous mysteries of dress, if I remember
aright, when she laid her hand on my mouth suddenly.

"Hush!" she said.