The Girl of the Golden West by Giacomo Puccini, David Belasco

name—whose
jealous nature now threatened to prove a serious handicap to him.
It was a particularly awkward situation in which he found himself
placed, inasmuch as this woman had furnished him with much valuable
information. In fact, it was she who had called his attention to
the probable spoils to be had in the American camp near by. It can
readily be imagined, therefore, that it was not without a
premonition of trouble to come that he sought the Mexican
settlement with the intention of paying her a hundred-fold for her
valuable assistance in the past and then be through with her for
good and all.
    The Mexican or greaser settlements had little in them that
resembled their American neighbours. In the latter there were few
women, for the long distance that the American pioneers had to
travel before reaching the gold-fields of California, the hardships
that they knew had to be encountered, deterred them from bringing
their wives and daughters. But with the Mexicans it was wholly
different. The number of women in their camps almost equalled that
of the men, and the former could always be seen, whenever the
weather permitted, strolling about or sitting in the doorways
chatting with their neighbours, while children were everywhere. In
fact, everything about the Mexican settlements conveyed the
impression that they had come to stay—a decided contrast to the
transient appearance of the camps of the Americans.
    It was one evening late in the fall that Ramerrez and his band
halted just outside of this particular Mexican settlement. And
after instructing his men where they should meet him the following
day, he sent them off to enjoy themselves for the night with their
friends. For, Ramerrez, although exercising restraint over his
band, never failed to see to it that they had their pleasures as
well as their duties—a trait in his character that had not a little
to do with his great influence over his men. And so it happened
that he made his way alone up the main street to the hall where a
dance was going on.
    The scene that met his eyes on entering the long, low room was a
gay one. It was a motley crowd gathered there in which the
Mexicans, not unnaturally, predominated. Here and there, however,
were native Californians, Frenchmen, Germans and a few Americans,
the latter conspicuous by the absence of colour in their dress; for
with the exception of an occasional coatless man in a red or blue
shirt, they wore faded, old, black coats,—frequently frock-coats,
at that,—which certainly contrasted unfavourably, at least so far
as heightening the gaiety of the scene was concerned, with the
green velvet jackets, brilliant waistcoats with gold filigree and
silver buttons and red sashes of the Mexicans. That there was not a
man present but what was togged out in his best and was armed, it
goes without saying, even if the weapons of the Mexicans were in
the form of murderous knives concealed somewhere about their
persons instead of belts with guns and knives openly displayed, as
was the case with the Americans.
    At the time of the outlaw's entrance into the dance-hall the
fandango was over. But presently the fiddles, accompanied by
guitars, struck up a waltz, and almost instantly some twenty or
more men and women took the floor; those not engaged in dancing
surrounding the dancers, clapping their hands and shouting their
applause. In order to see if the woman he sought was present, it
was necessary for Ramerrez to push to the very front of the crowd
of lookers-on, where he was not long in observing that nearly all
the women present were of striking appearance and danced well;
likewise, he noted, that none compared either in looks or grace
with Nina Micheltoreña who, he had to acknowledge, even if his
feelings for her were dead, was a superb specimen of a woman.
    Good blood ran in the veins of Nina Micheltoreña. It is not in
the province of this story to tell how it was that a favourite in
the best circles of Monterey came to be living in