VI

After the entertainment was over, Russell strolled about the town. The new moon was on the sky, the stars thick and bright; but dark corners were everywhere, and he kept his hand on his pistol. He found himself before the long low house of Dona Eustaquia Ortega. Not a light glimmered; the shutters were of solid wood. He walked up and down, trying to guess which was Benicia's room.

"I am growing as romantic as a Californian," he thought; "but this wonderful country pours its colour all through one's nature. If I could find her window, I believe I should serenade her in true Spanish fashion. By Jove, I remember now, she said something about looking through her window at the pines on the hill. It must be at the back of the house, and how am I going to get over that great adobe wall? That gate is probably fastened with an iron bar--ah!"

He had walked to the corner of the wall surrounding the large yard behind and at both sides of Dona Eustaquia's house, and he saw, ascending a ladder, a tall figure, draped in a serape, its face concealed by the shadow of a sombrero. He drew his pistol, then laughed at himself, although not without annoyance. "A rival; and he has got ahead of me. He is going to serenade her."

The caballero seated himself uncomfortably on the tiles that roofed the wall, removed his sombrero, and Russell recognized Fernando Altimira. A moment later the sweet thin chords of the guitar quivered in the quiet air, and a tenor, so fine that even Russell stood entranced, sang to Benicia one of the old songs of Monterey:--

EL SUSPIRO Una mirada un suspiro, Una lagrima querida, Es balsamo a la herida Que abriste en mi corazon. Por esa lagrima cara Objeto de mi termina, Yo te ame bella criatura Desde que te vi llorar. Te acuerdas de aquella noche En que triste y abatida Una lagrima querida Vi de tus ojos brotar.

Although Russell was at the base of the high wall he saw that a light flashed. The light was followed by the clapping of little hands. "Jove!" he thought, "am I really jealous? But damn that Californian!"

Altimira sang two more songs and was rewarded by the same demonstrations. As he descended the ladder and reached the open street he met Russell face to face. The two men regarded each other for a moment. The Californian's handsome face was distorted by a passionate scowl; Russell was calmer, but his brows were lowered.

Altimira flung the ladder to the ground, but fire-blooded as he was, the politeness of his race did not desert him, and his struggle with English flung oil upon his passion.

"Senor," he said, "I no know what you do it by the house of the Senorita Benicia so late in the night. I suppose you have the right to walk in the town si it please yourself."

"Have I not the same right as you--to serenade the Senorita Benicia? If I had known her room, I should