"California has a physical quality which the Americans and all the other races that will eventually pour into her can never change," said Estenega. "She will never cease to protest that she was made for love and wine and to enfold with content in the mere fact of existence, to delight the eye, the soul, and the body, to inspire poetry and romance, and that the introduction of the commercial element is an indignity. I used to think differently when California and my own ambitions seemed identical; but San Francisco gave me a nightmare." "On the ranches it is much the same as ever," said Captain Brotherton, "and will remain so long beyond our time. You will return with us, Mr. Thorpe? Estenega and Chonita go too." And Thorpe gratefully accepted. As they returned, they saw the great company streaming down from the Mission, a mass of colour. Few were on foot. No Californian walked a mile, if he had a horse to ride. Thorpe hastened to his room to make his morning toilet. When he left it, the court and corridors were crowded with the brilliantly plumaged men and women. Reinaldo, in blue silk, was strutting about among the girls, as proud and happy as a girl dressed for her first party. There was no question in his mind who was the most important young man in California that morning. He was the head and front of California's wealthiest and haughtiest family, the scion of the only aristocracy that great territory would ever know. The Americans he regarded as a mere incident,--a brusque unpolished breed whose existence he rarely recalled. The Jews, up in the town, he considered with more favour; his fond mamma was inclined to be close-fisted with growing sons. The tables had been set about the three corridors, as not only the neighbours were bidden to the breakfast, but many from distant ranchos. The poor were fed in the open beyond, on pigs roasted whole, and many dulces. The Presidio band played the patriotic and sentimental airs of Mexico. Thorpe sat between Prudencia (who appeared to have marked him for her own) and Doña Eustaquia. Chonita was opposite, between two of her old admirers. "It is the same, yet not the same--like the old time," said Doña Eustaquia, with a sigh. "It is not the same at all," said Chonita. "It is a theatre, and we are performing--for Mr. Thorpe's benefit." "No is theatre at all," said Prudencia, disapprovingly. "All is exactamente the same. Few years older, no more; but no one detail differente. And next year the same, and every year,--one, two, three hundred years what coming." Chonita shrugged her shoulders, and did not condescend to answer, although every Californian within earshot, except Doña Eustaquia, assured her that Prudencia was right.