All I'm able to state is that she's as beautiful as a cactus flower,
an' as vivid. She's tall an' strong for a Mexican, with a voice like
velvet, graceful as a mountain lion, an' with eyes that's soft an'
deep an' black, like a deer's. She's shorely a lovely miracle, the
Donna Anna is, an' as dark an' as warm an' as full of life as a
night in Joone. She's of the grande, for the mule she's ridin',
gent-fashion, is worth forty ponies. Its coat is soft, an' shiny
like this yere watered silk, while its mane an' tail is braided with
a hundred littler silver bells. The Donna Anna is dressed half
Mexican an' half Injun, an' thar's likewise a row of bells about the
wide brim of her Chihuahua hat.
"'Thar's mebby a half-dozen of us standin' 'round when the Donna
Anna comes up. Nacherally, we-all is interested. The Donna Anna,
bein' only eighteen an' a Mexican, is not abashed. She waves her
hand an' says, "How! how!" Injun fashion. an' gives us a white flash
of teeth between her red lips. Then a band of nuns comes out of a
little convent, which is one of the public improvements of the Plaza
Perdita, an' they rounds up the Donna Anna an' the wrinkled
Magdalena, an' takes 'em into camp.
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