( PDF ) Rezanov

Download PDF

ads:

Rezanov

Gertrude Atherton

**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Rezanov, by Gertrude Atherton**

the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!

Please take a look at the important information in this header.

We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an

electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.

**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*

Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and

further information is included below. We need your donations.

Rezanov, by Gertrude Atherton

April, 1996 [Etext #491]

**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Rezanov by Gertrude Atherton**

*****This file should be named reznv10.txt or reznv10.zip******

Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, reznv11.txt.

VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, reznv10a.txt.

This etext was created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska.

We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance

of the official release dates, for time for better editing.

Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till

midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.

The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at

Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A

preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment

and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an

up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes

in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has

a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a

look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a

new copy has at least one byte more or less.

ads:

Livros Grátis

http://www.livrosgratis.com.br

Milhares de livros grátis para download.

Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The

fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take

to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright

searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This

projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value

per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $4

million dollars per hour this year as we release some eight text

files per month: thus upping our productivity from $2 million.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext

Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]

This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,

which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end

of the year 2001.

We need your donations more than ever!

All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are

tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois

Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go

to IBC, too)

For these and other matters, please mail to:

Project Gutenberg

P. O. Box 2782

Champaign, IL 61825

When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive

Director:

[email protected].uiuc.edu (internet) hart@uiucvmd (bitnet)

We would prefer to send you this information by email

(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).

******

If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please

FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:

[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]

ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu

password: your@login

cd etext/etext90 through /etext96

or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]

dir [to see files]

get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]

GET INDEX?00.GUT

for a list of books

and

GET NEW GUT for general information

and

MGET GUT* for newsletters.

**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**

(Three Pages)

ads:

***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***

Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.

They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with

your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from

someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our

fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement

disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how

you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT

By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm

etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept

this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive

a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by

sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person

you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical

medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS

This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-

tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor

Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at

Illinois Benedictine College (the "Project"). Among other

things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright

on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and

distribute it in the United States without permission and

without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth

below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext

under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable

efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain

works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any

medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other

things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or

corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other

intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged

disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer

codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES

But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,

[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this

etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all

liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including

legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR

UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,

INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE

OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE

POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of

receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)

you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that

time to the person you received it from. If you received it

on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and

such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement

copy. If you received it electronically, such person may

choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to

receive it electronically.

THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER

WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS

TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT

LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A

PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or

the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the

above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you

may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY

You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,

officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost

and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or

indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:

[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,

or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"

You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by

disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this

"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,

or:

[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this

requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the

etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,

if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable

binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,

including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-

cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as

*EITHER*:

[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and

does *not* contain characters other than those

intended by the author of the work, although tilde

(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may

be used to convey punctuation intended by the

author, and additional characters may be used to

indicate hypertext links; OR

[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at

no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent

form by the program that displays the etext (as is

the case, for instance, with most word processors);

[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at

no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the

etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC

or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this

"Small Print!" statement.

[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the

net profits you derive calculated using the method you

already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you

don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are

payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois

Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each

date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)

your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?

The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,

scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty

free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution

you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg

Association / Illinois Benedictine College".

*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*

REZANOV

BY GERTRUDE ATHERTON

With an Introduction by

WILLIAM MARION REEDY

INTRODUCTION

A long list of works Gertrude Atherton has to

her credit as a writer. She is indisputably a woman

of genius. Not that her genius is distinctively

feminine, though she is in matters historical a pas-

sionate partisan. Most of the critics who approve

her work agree that in the main she views life with

somewhat of the masculine spirit of liberality. She

is as much the realist as one can be who is saturated

with the romance that is California, her birthplace

and her home, if such a true cosmopolite as she can

be said to have a home. In all she has written there

is abounding life; her grasp of character is firm;

her style has a warm, glowing plasticity, frequently

a rhythm variously expressive of all the wide range

of feeling which a writer must have to make his

or her books living things. She does no less well

in the depiction of men than in the portraiture of

women. All stand out of their vivid environment

distinctly and they are all personalities of power--

even, occasionally, of "that strong power called

weakness." And they all wear something of a glory

imparted to them by the sympathy of their creator

and interpreter. High upon any roster of our best

American writers we must enroll the name of Mrs.

Atherton.

Of all her books I like best this "Rezanov,"

though I have not found many to agree with me.

It is not so pretentious as others more frequently

commended. It is a simple story, almost one might

say an incident or an anecdote. It is not literally

sophisticated. For me that is its unfailing charm.

I find in it not a little of the strange, primeval

quality that makes me think of "Aucassin and Nico-

lette." For it is not so much a novel as an his-

torical idyl, not to be read without a persisting

suffusion of sympathy and never to be remembered

without a recurring tenderness. Remembered, did

I say? It is unforgettable. There are few books

of American origin that resist so well the passing

of the years, that take on more steadily the glam-

our of "the unimaginable touch of time." "Rez-

anov" is a classic, or I miss my guess. This, though

it was first published so recently as 1906.

The story has the merit of being, to some extent

historically, and wholly artistically, true. For the

matter-of-facts Mrs. Atherton provides a bibliog-

raphy of her authorities. Those authorities I

have not read, nor should others. Sufficient unto

me is the authority of the novel itself splendidly

demonstrated and established in the high court of

the reader's head and heart by the author's visu-

alizing veritism. Not twenty pages have you turned

before you know this Rezanov, privy councilor,

grand chamberlain, plenipotentiary of the Russo-

American company, imperial inspector of the ex-

treme eastern and northwestern dominions of his

imperial majesty Alexander the First, emperor of

Russia--all this and more, a man. He comes out of

mystery into the softly bright light of California,

in strength and shrewdness and dignity and per-

sonal splendor. And there is amidst it all a pathos

upon him. He commands your affection even while

suggesting a doubt whether the man may not be

overwhelmed in the diplomat, the intriguer. The

year is 1806. The monstrous apparition of Napo-

leon has loomed an omen of the doom of ancient

authority and the shattering of nations in Europe.

That faithless, incalculable idealist Alexander,

plans he knows not what of imperial glory in the

Eastern and Western world. Rezanov is his ser-

vant, a man of ambition, perhaps in all favor at

court, desirous of doing some great service for his

master. He dreams of dominion in this sun-soaked

land so lazily held in the lax grasp of Spain. He

has come from failure. He had been to Japan

with presents to the emperor, was received by minor

officials with a hospitality that poorly concealed the

fact that he was virtually a prisoner, and then dis-

missed without admission to the audience he sought

with the mikado. He had gone then to bleak, in-

hospitable Sitka, to find the settlement there in a

plague of scurvy and starvation only slightly miti-

gated by vodka. Down the coast then he sailed to

the Spanish settlement for food for the settlement.

He comes to that place where in his vision he sees

arise that city of the future which we know now

as San Francisco. Masterful man that he is, he

feels that here some great thing awaits him. The

Spaniards are wary of him. They will not trade

with him, but they receive him courteously and they

are fascinated by his self-possessed, well-poised but

withal so gracious personality. The life there at

the time is a sort of lotus-eating existence. It is

a piece of Spain translated to a more luscious, a

lovelier land, overlooking beautiful seas and peril-

ous. Into the dolce far niente Rezanov enters with

some surrender to its softening spell, but with the

courtier's prudence.

And he meets the girl, Concha Arguello. He

sees her in the setting of burning and sweet Cas-

tilian roses--a girl who has had the benefit of edu-

cation, who keeps the graces of old Madrid in this

realm beyond sea, a burgeoning bud of womanhood,

daughter of the commandante. The doom of both

is upon them at once. They have drunk the pois-

oned cup. Rezanov resists the first approaches of

the delightful delirium, remembering Russia, his

duty, his ambition, the poor starving men of the

Sitka factory. At a party he dances with Concha

and they both know that for each there is none

other. So in that setting so wild, so strange, so

remote, so lovely for the old world grace that is

made native there by this bright, deep, fond girl,

the high gods proceed to have their will upon the

two. The little community life pulses around them

the faster because they are there. Their love be-

comes a motive in the diplomatic drama which has

for end, first, the securing of food for those fam-

ishing folk at Sitka, and beyond that, possibly the

seizing of the region for Russia, lest that new

young power of the West, the United States, pre-

empt the rich domain. Concha would help the Rus-

sian to those ends immediate which he reveals to

her, and succeeds. He tells her of Russia and his

mighty position there. He would have her for his

wife, his helper in the vast imperial affairs at the

Russian capitol, his princess in his palace, augment-

ing his official and personal distinction. She shares

his vision, rising to all the heights it unfolds in a

splendid future. Child she is, but she is transformed

into a woman by the prospect not of her own pleas-

ure, but of participation in splendid achievement

with this man so keen, so supple, yet so firm in

high purpose. And as the prospect opens to her

desire and his there looms the obstacle. They can-

not marry, for Rezanov is a heretic. And now the

passion flames. This child woman will go with him.

Ah, but the church, the king of Spain, will they per-

mit? And the Czar! Rezanov will see to it that the

Czar will clear the way for them through power

exercised at Rome and at Madrid. Conditioned

upon this, the girl's parents consent.

These lovers prate very little of love. Their

desire runs too deep for mere speech. It is a desire

made up of as much spiritual as carnal fire. It is

fierce but steady in ecstacy and agony, indistinguish-

able the one from the other. Rezanov, man of the

great world, it purifies. Concha it strengthens and

makes indomitable. They will abide delay. They

will endure in faith and hope--the faith and hope

both dimmed by the vague and unshakable intui-

tion or premonition that fate has marked them for

derision. Nevertheless, they will endure.

There is a meeting on a path that overlooks where

the white seas strike their tents. It is a meeting of

little action, of few words. It is tense with the

almost inexpressible, but at its end, confronting the

doubtful future, realizing that when Rezanov goes

he may not return, this girl tells him: "I will give

myself to you forever, how much or little that may

mean here on earth. Forever!" And then that

scene in the moonlight amid the scent of the Cas-

tilian roses, when Concha, as signal of her trust in

her lover, lifts the little wisps of hair that conceal

her ears and shows them to him--it throbs with

passionate purity in memory yet.

Rezanov sails away to Sitka with provisions,

thence to Siberia, and then begins the long ride over

endless versts of land, across streams in icy flood,

in rain and cold and snow towards the capitol and

the Czar. Delays, disasters to vehicles and horses

and the maddening lengthening of time. From

drenchings and freezing comes the fever that calls

for more speed. Krasnoiarsk is reached. The fever

mounts, the traveler must stop and rest and be

cared for. His visions commingle his objective

and his memories . . . CONCHA! . . . The snowy

steppes and the inky rivers. . . . His servant en-

ters the room in the inn . . . Why . . . "Where

has Jon found Castilian roses in this barren land?"

. . . "and his unconquerably sanguine spirit flared

high before a vision of eternal and unthinkable

happiness" . . . Castilian roses! Concha Arguello

waits among them, immortal, sainted in her purity

and fidelity, ministering to her poor Indians, her

face alight with unquenchable memory and with

surety of an eventual everlasting tryst. Those Cas-

tilian roses! They perfume forever one's mem-

ories of this pair, puissant in faith, in this novel

that is a poem and a shrine of that love which lives

when death itself is dead.

WILLIAM MARION REEDY

REZANOV

As the little ship that had three times raced with

death sailed past the gray headlands and into the

straits of San Francisco on that brilliant April

morning of 1806, Rezanov forgot the bitter hu-

miliations, the mental and physical torments, the

deprivations and dangers of the past three years;

forgot those harrowing months in the harbor of

Nagasaki when the Russian bear had caged his tail

in the presence of eyes aslant; his dismay at Kam-

chatka when he had been forced to send home an-

other to vindicate his failure, and to remain in the

Tsar's incontiguous and barbarous northeastern

possessions as representative of his Imperial

Majesty, and plenipotentiary of the Company his

own genius had created; forgot the year of loneli-

ness and hardship and peril in whose jaws the

bravest was impotent; forgot even his pitiable crew,

diseased when he left Sitka, that had filled the Juno

with their groans and laments; and the bells of

youth, long still, rang in his soul once more.

"It is the spring in California," he thought, with

a sigh that curled at the edge. "However," life

had made him philosophical; "the moments of un-

reasonable happiness are the most enviable no doubt,

for there is neither gall nor satiety in the reaction.

All this is as enchanting as--well, as a woman's

promise. What lies beyond? Illiterate and mer-

cenary Spaniards, vicious natives, and boundless

ennui, one may safely wager. But if all California

is as beautiful as this, no man that has spent a

winter in Sitka should ask for more."

In the extent and variety of his travels Rezanov

had seen Nature more awesome of feature but

never more fair. On his immediate right as he

sailed down the straits toward the narrow entrance

to be known as the Golden Gate, there was little to

interest save the surf and the masses of outlying

rocks where the seals leapt and barked; the shore

beyond was sandy and low. But on his left the last

of the northern mountains rose straight from the

water, the warm red of its deeply indented cliffs

rich in harmony with the green of slope and height.

There was not a tree; the mountains, the promon-

tories, the hills far down on the right beyond the

sand dunes, looked like stupendous waves of lava

that had cooled into every gracious line and fold

within the art of relenting Nature; granted ages

after, a light coat of verdure to clothe the terrible

mystery of birth. The great bay, as blue and tran-

quil as a high mountain lake, as silent as if the

planet still slept after the agonies of labor, looked

to be broken by a number of promontories, rising

from their points far out in the water to the high

back of the land; but as the Juno pursued her slant-

ing way down the channel Rezanov saw that the

most imposing of these was but the end of a large

island, and that scattered near were other islands,

masses of rock like the castellated heights that rise

abruptly from the plains of Italy and Spain; far

away, narrow straits, with a glittering expanse be-

yond; while bounding the whole eastern rim of this

splendid sheet of water was a chain of violet hills,

with the pale green mist of new grass here and

there, and purple hollows that might mean groves

of trees crouching low against the cold winds of

summer; in the soft pale blue haze above and be-

yond, the lofty volcanic peak of a mountain range.

Not a human being, not a boat, not even a herd of

cattle was to be seen, and Rezanov, for a moment

forgetting to exult in the length of Russia's arm,

yielded himself to the subtle influence abroad in

the air, and felt that he could dream as he had

dreamed in a youth when the courts of Europe to

the boy were as fabulous as El Dorado in the im-

mensity of ancestral seclusions.

"It is like the approach to paradise, is it not,

Excellency?" a deferential voice murmured at his

elbow.

The plenipotentiary frowned without turning his

head. Dr. Langsdorff, surgeon and naturalist, had

accompanied the Embassy to Japan, and although

Rezanov had never found any man more of a bore

and would willingly have seen the last of him at

Kamchatka, a skilful dispenser of drugs and mender

of bones was necessary in his hazardous voy-

ages, and he retained him in his suite. Langsdorff

returned his polite tolerance with all the hidden re-

sources of his spleen; but his curiosity and scientific

enthusiasm would have sustained him through

greater trials than the exactions of an autocrat,

whom at least he had never ceased to respect in the

most trying moments at Nagasaki.

"Yes," said Rezanov. "But I wonder you find

anything to admire in such unportable objects as

mountains and water. I have not seen a living

thing but gulls and seal, and God knows we had

enough of both at Sitka."

"Ah, your excellency, in a land as fertile as this,

and caressed by a climate that would coax life

from a stone, there must be an infinite number of

aquatic and aerial treasures that will add materially

to the scientific lore of Europe."

"Humph!" said Rezanov, and moved his shoulder

in an uncontrollable gesture of dismissal. But the

spell of the April morning was broken, although

the learned doctor was not to be the only offender.

The Golden Gate is but a mile in width and the

swift current carried the Juno toward a low prom-

ontory from the base of which a shrill cry suddenly

ascended. Rezanov, raising his glass, saw that what

he had taken to be a pile of fallen rocks was a fort,

and that a group of excited men stood at its gates.

Once more the plenipotentiary on a delicate mission,

he ordered the two naval officers sailing the ship

to come forward, and retired to the dignified isola-

tion of the cabin.

The high-spirited young officers, who would have

raised a gay hurrah at the sight of civilized man

had it not been for the awe in which they held

their chief, saluted the Spaniards formally, then

stood in an attitude of extreme respect; the Juno

was directly under the guns of the fort.

One of the Spaniards raised a speaking trumpet

and shouted:

"Who are you?"

No one on the Juno, save Rezanov, could speak a

word of Spanish, but the tone of the query was its

own interpreter. The oldest of the lieutenants,

through the ship's trumpet, shouted back:

"The Juno--Sitka--Russian."

The Spanish officer made a peremptory gesture

that the ship come to anchor in the shelter given by

an immense angle of the mainland, of which the

fort's point was the western extreme. The Rus-

sians, as befitted the peaceful nature of their mis-

sion, obeyed without delay. Before their resting

place, and among the sand hills a mile from the

beach, was a quadrangle of buildings some two hun-

dred feet square and surrounded by a wall about

fourteen feet high and seven feet thick. This they

knew to be the Presidio. They saw the officers that

had hailed them gallop over the hill behind the fort

to the more ambitious enclosure, and, in the square,

confer with another group that seemed to be in a

corresponding state of excitement. A few moments

later a deputation of officers, accompanied by a

priest in the brown habit of the Franciscan order,

started on horseback for the beach. Rezanov or-

dered Lieutenant Davidov and Dr. Langsdorff to

the shore as his representatives.

The Spaniards wore the undress uniform of

black and scarlet in which they had been surprised,

but their peaked straw hats were decorated with

cords of gold or silver, the tassels hanging low on

the broad brim; their high deer-skin boots were

gaily embroidered, and bristled with immense silver

spurs. The commanding officer alone had invested

himself with a gala serape, a square of red cloth

with a bound and embroidered slit for the head.

Leading the rapid procession, his left hand resting

significantly on his sword, he was a fine specimen

of the young California grandee, dark and dashing

and reckless, lithe of figure, thoroughbred, ardent.

His eyes were sparkling at the prospect of excite-

ment; not only had the Russians, by their nefarious

appropriation of the northwestern corner of the

continent and a recent piratical excursion in pursuit

of otter, inspired the Spanish Government with a

profound disapproval and mistrust, but a rumor

had run up the coast that made every sea-gull look

like the herald of a hostile fleet. This was young

Arguello's first taste of command, and life was dull

on the northern peninsula; he would have wel-

comed a declaration of war.

Davidov and Langsdorff had come to shore in

one of the JUNO'S canoes. The conversation was

held in Latin between the two men of learning.

"Who are you and whence come you?" asked the

priest.

Langsdorff, who had been severely drilled by the

plenipotentiary as to text, replied with a profound

bow: "We are Russians engaged in completing the

circumnavigation of the globe. It was our inten-

tion to go directly to Monterey and present our offi-

cial documents, as well as our respects, to your illus-

trious Governor, but owing to contrary winds and

a resultant scarcity of provisions, we were under

the necessity of putting into the nearest harbor.

The Juno is navigated by Lieutenant Davidov and

Lieutenant Khovstov, of the Imperial Navy of Rus-

sia; by gracious permission associated with the Ma-

rine of the Russo-American Company." He paused

a moment, and then swept out his trump card with

a magnificent flourish: "Our expedition is in com-

mand of His Excellency, Privy Counsellor and

Grand Chamberlain Baron Rezanov, late Ambas-

sador to the Court of Japan, Plenipotentiary of the

Russo-American Company, Imperial Inspector of

the extreme eastern and northwestern American

dominions of His Imperial Majesty, Alexander the

First, Emperor of all the Russias, whose representa-

tives in these waters he is."

The Spaniards were properly impressed as the

priest translated with the glibness of the original;

but Arguello, who announced himself as Com-

mandante ad interim of the Presidio of San Fran-

cisco during the absence of his father at Monterey,

nodded sagely several times, and then held a short

conference in Spanish with the interpreter. The

priest turned to the Russians with a smile as diplo-

matic as that which Rezanov had drilled upon the

ugly ingenuous countenance of his medicine man.

"Our illustrious Governor, Don Jose Arrillaga,

received word from the court of Spain, now quite

two years ago, of the sailing in 1803 from Kron-

stadt of the ships Nadeshda and Neva, in command

of Captain Krusenstern and Captain Lisiansky, the

former having on board the illustrious Ambassador

to Japan, the Privy Counsellor and Chamberlain de

Rezanov. It was expected that these ships would

touch at more than one of His Most Holy Catholic

Majesty's vast dominions, and all viceroys and

gobernador proprietarios were alike instructed to re-

ceive the exalted representatives of the mighty Em-

peror of Russia with hospitality and respect. But

we cannot understand why his excellency comes to

us so late and in so small a ship, rather than in the

state with which he sailed from Europe."

"The explanation is simple, my father. The

original ships, from a variety of circumstances,

were, upon our arrival at Kamchatka, at the con-

clusion of the embassy to Japan, under the neces-

sity of returning at once to Europe. His Imperial

Majesty, Alexander the First, ordered the Cham-

berlain and plenipotentiary, the representative of

imperial power in the Russo-American possessions,

to remove to the Juno for the purpose of visiting

the Kurile and Aleutian Islands, Kadiak and the

northwestern coast of America." The Tsar had

never heard of the Juno, but as Rezanov was prac-

tically his august self in these far-away waters,

there was enough of truth in this statement to ap-

pease the conscience of a subordinate.

The Spaniards were satisfied. Lieutenant Ar-

guello begged that the emissaries would return to

the ship and invite the Chamberlain and his party

to come at once to the Presidio and do it the honor

to partake of the poor hospitality it afforded. An

officer galloped furiously for horses.

A few moments later they were still more deeply

impressed by the appearance of their distinguished

visitor as he stood erect in the boat that brought

him to shore. In full uniform of dark green and

gold lace, with cocked hat and the splendid order of

St. Ann on his breast, Rezanov was by far the finest

specimen of a man the Californians, themselves of

ampler build than their European ancestors, had

ever beheld. Of commanding stature and physique,

with an air of highest breeding and repose, he

looked both a man of the great world and an intol-

erant leader of men. His long oval face was thin

and somewhat lined, the mouth heavily moulded

and closely set, suggestive of sarcasm and humor;

the nose long, with arching and flexible nostrils.

His eyes, seldom widely opened, were light blue,

very keen, usually cold. Like many other men of

his position in Europe, he had discarded wig and

queue and wore his short fair hair unpowdered.

It was a singularly imposing but hardly attractive

presence, thought young Arguello, until Rezanov,

after stepping on shore and bowing formally, sud-

denly smiled and held out his hand. Then the im-

pressionable Spaniard "melted like a woman," as

he told his sister, Concha, and would have embraced

the stranger on either cheek had not awe lingered

to temper his enthusiasm. But Rezanov never made

a stauncher friend than Louis Arguello, who vowed

to the last of his days that the one man who had

fulfilled his ideal of the grand seigneur was he that

sailed in from the North on that fateful April

morning of 1806.

As Rezanov, heading the procession with young

Arguello, entered the wide gates of the Presidio, he

received an impression memorably different from

that which led earlier travelers to describe it in-

clemently as a large square surrounded by mud

houses, thatched with reeds. It is true that the walls

were of adobe and the roofs of tule, nor was there

a tree on the sand hills encircling the stronghold.

But in this early springtime--the summer of the

peninsula--the hills showed patches of verdure, and

all the low white buildings were covered by a net-

work of soft dull green and archaic pink. The Cas-

tilian rose, full and fluted, and of a chaste and pene-

trating fragrance, hung singly and in clusters on the

pillars of the dwellings, on the barracks and chapel,

from the very roofs; bloomed upon bushes as high

as young trees. The Presidio was as delicately per-

fumed as a lady's bower, and its cannon faced the

ever-changing hues of water and island and hill.

As the party approached, heads of all ages ap-

peared between the vines, and there was a low mur-

mur of irrepressible curiosity and delight.

"We do not see many strangers in this lonely

land," said Arguello apologetically. "And never

before have we had so distinguished a guest as your

excellency. It was always a gala day when ever a

Boston skipper came in with a few bales of goods

and a complexion like the hides we sold him. Now,

alas! they are no longer permitted to enter our

ports. Governor Arrillaga will have none of contra-

band trade and slaying of our otter. And as for

Europeans other than Spaniards, save for an Eng-

lish sea captain now and then, they know naught of

our existence."

But Rezanov had not come to California on the

impulse of a moment. He replied suavely: "There

you are mistaken. Your illustrious father, Don

Jose Mario de Arguello, is well known to us as the

most respected, eminent and influential character in

the Californias. It was my intention, after paying

a visit of ceremony to his excellency, Governor Ar-

rillaga, to come to San Francisco for the sole pur-

pose of meeting a man whose record has inspired

me with the deepest interest. And we have all

heard such wonderful tales of your California, of

its beauty, its fertility, of the beneficent lives of

your missionaries--so different from ours--and of

the hospitality and elegance of the Spaniards, that

it has been the objective point of my travels, and I

have found it difficult to curb my impatience while

attending to imperative duties elsewhere."

"Ay! senor!" exclaimed the young Californian.

"What you say fills me with a pride I cannot ex-

press, and I can only regret that the reports of our

poor habitations should be so sadly exaggerated.

Such as our possessions are, however, they are yours

while you deign to remain in our midst. This is

my father's house. I beg that you will regard it as

your own. Burn it if you will!" he cried with

more enthusiasm than commonly enlivened the

phrases of hospitality. "He will be proud to know

that a lifetime of severe attention to duty and of

devotion to his King have won him fame abroad

as well as at home. He has risen to his present

position from the ranks, but he is of pure Spanish

blood, not a drop of Indian; and my mother was a

Moraga, of the best blood of Spain," he added art-

lessly. "As to the beauty and variety of our country,

senor, of course you will visit our opulent south;

but--" They had dismounted at the Comman-

dante's house in the southeast corner of the square.

Arguello impulsively led Rezanov back to the gates

and pointed to the east. "I have crossed those

mountains and the mountains beyond, Excellency,

and seen fertile and beautiful valleys of a vast ex-

tent, watered by five rivers and bound far, far away

by mountains covered with snow and gigantic trees.

The valley beyond the southern edge of the bay,

where the Missions of Santa Clara and San Jose

are, is also rich, but those between the ranges is an

empire; and one day when the King sends us more

colonists, we shall recompense Spain for all she has

lost."

"I congratulate you!" Rezanov, indifferent to his

host's ancestral tree, had lifted an alert ear. His

quick incisive brain was at work. "I should like to

stretch my legs over a horse for a week at a time,

and even to climb your highest mountains. You

may imagine how much exercise a man may get on

a vessel of two hundred and six tons, and it is

thirty-two days since I left Sitka. To look upon a

vast expanse of green--to say nothing of possible

sport--after a winter of incessant rain and impene-

trable forests--what a prospect! I beg you will take

me off into the wilderness as soon as possible."

"I promise you the Governor shall not withhold

his consent--and there are bear and deer--quail,

wild duck--your excellency will enjoy that beauti-

ful wild country as I have done." Arguello was

enchanted at the prospect of fresh adventure in the

company of this fascinating stranger. "But we are

once more at our poor abode, senor. I beg you to

remember that it is your own."

They ascended the steps of the piazza, suddenly

deserted, and it seemed to Rezanov that every sense

in his being quivered responsively to the poignant

sweetness of the Castilian roses. He throbbed

with a sudden exultant premonition that he stood

on the threshold of an historic future, with a pagan

joy in mere existence, a sudden rush of desire for

the keen wild happiness of youth. Such is the

elixir of California in the north and the spring.

They entered a long sala typical of its day and

of many to come; whitewashed walls hung with

colored prints of the Virgin and saints; horsehair

furniture, matting, deep window seats; and a

perennial coolness. The Chamberlain (his court

title and the one commonly attached to his name)

made himself as comfortable as the slippery chair

would permit, and Arguello went for his mother.

Langsdorff, who had lingered on the piazza with

the priest, entered in a moment.

"The good padre tells me that this rose of Cas-

tile is the only imported flower in California," he

cried, with enthusiasm, for although not a bot-

anist, there was a bump between his eyes as big

as a child's fist and he had a nose like the prow

of a toy ship. "Many cuttings were brought from

Spain--"

"What difference does it make where it came

from?" interrupted Rezanov testily. "Is it not

enough that it is beautiful, but it must have a pin

stuck through it like some poor devil of a butter-

fly?"

"Your excellency has also the habit to probe

into things he deems worthy of his attention," re-

torted the offended scientist; but he was obliged

to closet his wrath. An inner door opened and

the host reappeared with his mother and a fair

demonstration of her virtues. She was a very

large woman dressed loosely in black, but she car-

ried herself with an air of complete, if somewhat

sleepy, dignity, and it was evident that her beauty

had been great. Her full face had lost its con-

tours, but time had spared the fine Roman nose and

the white skin, that birthright of the high-bred

Castilian. Arguello presented his family ceremo-

niously as the guest of honor rose and bowed with

formal deference.

"My mother, Dona Ignacia Arguello, your ex-

cellency, who unites with me in praying that you

will regard our home as yours during your so-

journ in the north. My sister, Maria de la Con-

cepcion Marcella Arguello, and my little sisters,

Ana Paula and Gertrudis Rudisinda. My

brothers: Gervasio--soldado distinguido of the

San Francisco Company; Santiago, a cadet in the

same company; Francesco and Toribio, whose

presence at the table I beg you will overlook, for

when we are so fortunate as to be all together,

senor, we cannot bear to be separated. My oldest

brother, alas--Ignacio--is studying for holy or-

ders in Mexico, and my sister Isabel visits at the

Presidio of Santa Barbara. I beg that you will be

seated, Excellency." And he continued the intro-

duction to the lesser luminaries, with equal cour-

tesy but fewer periods.

Rezanov exchanged a few pleasant words with

his smiling hostess before she returned to her dis-

tracted maids preparing the dinner; but his eyes

during Arguello's declamation had wandered with

a singular fidelity to the beautiful face of the eld-

est daughter of the house. She had responded

with a humorous twinkle in her magnificent black

eyes and not a hint of diffidence. As she entered

the room his brain had flashed out the thought:

"Thank heaven for a pretty girl after these three

abominable years!" Possibly his pleasure would

have been salted with pique had he guessed that her

thought was the twin of his own. He was the

first man of any world more considerable than the

petty court of the viceroy of Mexico that had vis-

ited California in her time, and excellent as she

found his tall military figure and pale cold face,

the novelty of the circumstance fluttered her more.

Dona "Concha" Arguello was the beauty of

California, and although her years were but six-

teen her blood was Spanish, and she carried her

tall deep figure and fine head with the grace and

dignity of an accomplished woman. She had in-

herited the white skin and delicate Roman-Span-

ish profile of the Moragas, but there was an in-

telligent fire in her eyes, a sharp accentuation of

nostril, and a full mobility of mouth, childish, half-

developed as that feature still was, that betrayed

a strong cross-current forcing the placid maternal

flow into rugged and unexplored channels, while

assimilating its fine qualities of pride and high

breeding. Gervasio and Santiago resembled their

sister in coloring and profile, but lacked her subtle

quality of personality and divine innocence. Luis

was more the mother's son than the father's--sav-

ing his olive skin; a grandee, modified by the sim-

plicities of a soldier's life, amiable and upright.

Dona Ignacia recognized in Concha the quintes-

sence of the two opposing streams, and had long

since ceased to impose upon a girl who had little

else but her liberties, the conventional restrictions

of the Spanish maiden. Concha had already re-

ceived many offers of marriage and regarded men

as mere swingers of incense. Moreover, her cul-

tivated mind was filled with ideals and ideas far

beyond anything California would yield in her day.

As Rezanov, upon Dona Ignacia's retreat,

walked directly over to her, she smilingly seated

herself on a sofa and swept aside her voluminous

white skirts. She was not sure that she liked him,

but in no doubt whatever of her delight at his

advent.

Her manners were very simple and artless, as

are the manners of most women whom Nature has

gifted with complexity and depth.

"It is now two years and more that we have

been excited over the prospect of this visit," she

said. "But if you will tell me what you have been

doing all this time, I, at least, will forgive you;

for you will never be able to imagine, senor, how

I long to hear of the great world. I stare at the

map, then at the few pictures we have. I know

many books of travel by heart; but I am afraid

my imagination is a poor one, for I cannot con-

jure up great cities filled with people--thousands

of people! DIOS DE MI ALMA! A world where

there is something besides mountains and water,

grain fields, orchards, forests, earthquakes, and

climate? Will you, senor?"

"For quite as many hours as you will listen to

me. I propose a compact. You shall improve my

Spanish. I will impart all I know of Europe--

and of Asia--if your curiosity reaches that far."

"Even of Japan?" There was a wicked spark

in her eye.

"I see you already have some knowledge of the

cause of my delay." His voice was even, but a

wound smarted. "It is quite true, senorita, that

the first embassy to Japan, from which we hoped

so much, was a humiliating failure, and that I was

played with for six months by a people whom we

had regarded as a nation of monkeys. When my

health began to suffer from the long confinement

on shipboard--we had previously been fourteen

months at sea--and I asked to be permitted to

live on shore while my claims to an audience were

under consideration, I was removed with my suite

to a cage on a strip of land nearly surrounded with

water, where I had less liberty and exercise than on

shipboard. Finally, I had a ridiculous interview

with a 'great man,' in which I accomplished nothing

but the preservation of what personal dignity a man

may while sitting on his heels; the superb presents

of the Tsar were returned to me, and I was politely

told to leave. Japan wanted neither the friendship

of Russia nor her gimcracks. That, senorita, is the

history of the first Russian Embassy--for the tenta-

tive visit of Adam Lanxmann, twelve years before,

can be dignified by no such title--to Oriental waters.

It is to be hoped that Count Golofkin, who was to

undertake a similar mission to China, has met with

a better fate."

Underneath the polished armour of a man who

was a courtier when he chose and the dominating

spirit always, he was hot and quick of temper. His

light cold eyes glowed with resentment at the danc-

ing lights in hers, as he cynically gave her a bald

abstract of the unfortunate mission. He reflected

that commonly he would have fitted a different

mask to the ugly skull of fact, but this young bar-

barian, as he chose to regard her, excited the ele-

mental truth in him, defying him to appear at his

worst. He was astonished to see her eyes suddenly

soften and her mouth tremble.

"It must have been a hateful experience--hate-

ful!" Her voice, beginning on its usual low soft

note, rose to a hoarse pitch of indignation. "I

should have killed somebody! To be a man, and

strong, and caressed all one's life by fortune--and

to be as helpless as an Indian! Madre de dios!"

"I shall take my revenge," said Rezanov shortly;

but the wound closed, and once more he became

aware of the poignant sweetness of Castilian roses.

Concha wore one in her soft dusky hair, and an-

other where the little round jacket of white linen,

gaily embroidered with pink, met on her bosom.

But if sentiment tempted him he was quickly poised

by her next remarks. She uttered them in a low

tone, although the animated conversation of the rest

of the party would have permitted the two on the

sofa to exchange the vows of love unheard.

"But what a practice for your diplomatic talents,

Excellency! Poor California! At least let me be

the first to hear what you have come for?" Her

voice dropped to a soft cooing note, although her

eyes twinkled. "For the love of God, senor! I am

so bored in this life on the edge of the world! To

see the seams and ravelings of a diplomatic in-

trigue! I have read and heard of many, but never

had I hoped to link my finger in anything subtler

than a quarrel between priest and Governor, or the

jealousy of Los Angeles for Monterey. I even will

help you--if you mean no harm to my father or my

country. And I am not a friend to scorn, senor,

for my blessed father is as wax in my hands, the

dear old Governor adores me, and even Padre

Abella, who thinks himself a great diplomat, and

is watching us out of the corner of his eye, while

I make him believe you pay me so many compli-

ments my poor little head turns round--Bueno

senor!" As she raised her voice she plucked the

rose from her dress and tossed it to Rezanov. Then

she lifted her chin and pouted her childish lips at

the ironical smile of the priest.

Rezanov was close to betraying his surprise; but

as he cherished a belief that the souls of all pretty

women went to school to the devil before entering

upon earthly enterprise, he wondered that he had

been open to the illusion of complete ingenuousness

in a descendant of one of the oldest and subtlest

civilizations of earth. Within that luminous shell

of youth there were, no doubt, whispering memories

of men and women steeped in court intrigue from

birth, of triumphant beauties that had lived for love

and their power over the passions of men as ardent

as himself. It was quite possible that she might be

as useful as she desired. But his impulses were in

leash. He merely looked and murmured his ad-

miration.

"Better ask, what chance have I, a defenceless

man, who has not seen a charming woman for three

years, against such practised art? If you can hood-

wink a Spanish priest, and manipulate a Governor

who has won the confidence of the most suspicious

court in Europe, what fortune for a barbarian of

the north? Less than with Japan, I should think."

He divested the rose of its thorns and many

tight little buds, and thrust the stem underneath the

star of St. Ann. She lifted her chin again and

tossed her head.

"You do not trust me, but you will. I fancy it

will be before long--for it is quite true that the

Californians are not so easily outwitted. And--

even did I not help you, I would not--I vow, senor!

--betray you. Is it true that Russia is at war with

Spain?"

"What?"

"Have you not heard? It was for that we were

all so excited this morning. We thought your ship

might be the first of a fleet."

"I have heard no such rumor, and you may dis-

miss it. Russia is too much occupied with Napo-

leon Bonaparte, who has had himself crowned Em-

peror, and by this time is probably at war with

half Europe--"

She interrupted him with flashing eye. The pink

in her cheeks had turned red. The thin nostrils of

her pretty Roman nose fluttered like paper. "Ah!"

she exclaimed, again with that note of hoarseness

in her voice. "There is a great man, not a mere

king on a throne his ancestors made for him. Papa

hates him because he has seized a throne. AY YI!

DIOS, but you should hear the words fly when we go

to war together. But I do not care that"--she

snapped her firm white fingers--"for all the Bour-

bons that are in Europe. Bonaparte! Do you know

him? Have you seen him?"

"I have seen him insult poor Markov, our ambas-

sador to France, when I can assure you that he

looked like neither a demi-god nor a gentleman.

When you have improved my Spanish I will tell you

many anecdotes of him. Meanwhile, am I to as-

sume that you reserve your admiration for the man

that carves his career in defiance of the rusty old

machinery?"

"I do! I do! My father was of the people, a

poor boy. He has risen to be the most powerful of

all Californians, although the King he adores never

makes him Gobernador Proprietario. I tell him he

should be the first to recognize the genius and the

ambitions of a Bonaparte. The mere thought hor-

rifies him. But in me that same strong plebeian

blood makes another cry, and if my father had but

enough men at his back, and the will to make him-

self King of the Californias--Madre de Dios! how

I should help him!"

"At least I know her better than she knows me,"

thought Rezanov, as the inner door was thrown

open and another bare room with a long table laden

with savory food on a superb silver service was re-

vealed. "And if I know anything of women, I can

trust her--for as long as she may be necessary, at

all events."

III

"Santiago!" whispered Concha. "Do not go

down to the ship. Take me for a walk. I have

much to say."

Santiago, who had not been asked to form one of

the escort upon the return of the Russians to the

Juno for the night, felt injured and sulky and

deigned no reply.

"If you do not, I'll not braid your hair to-mor-

row," said his sister, giving his arm a little shake;

and he succumbed. The luxuriant tresses of the

male Arguellos were combed and braided and tied

with a ribbon every morning by the women of the

family, and Concha's fingers were the gentlest and

deftest. And Concha and Santiago were more inti-

mate than even the rest of that united family. They

had studied and read together, were equally dis-

satisfied with their narrow existence, ambitious for

a wider experience. Santiago consoled himself with

cards and training roosters for battle, and otherwise

as a man may. He was but fifteen, this haughty,

severe-looking young hidalgo, but while in some re-

spects many years older than his sister, in others

he was younger, for he possessed none of her

illuminating instinct.

She led him through a postern gate, round the

first of the dunes, and they were alone in a waste of

sand. She demanded abruptly:

"What do you think of our illustrious visitor?"

"I like him. He would wring your neck if you

got in his way, but has a kind heart for those that

call him master. I like that sort of a man. I wish

he would take me away with him."

"He shall--one of these days. Santiago mio, let

me whisper--" She pulled his ear down to her

lips. "He will marry me. I feel it. I know it.

He has talked to me the whole day. He has told

me grave secrets. Not even to you would I reveal

them. So many have loved me--why should not

he? I shall live in St. Petersburg, and see all

Europe!--thousands of people--Dios mio! Dios

mio!"

"Indeed!" Santiago, still unamiable, responded

to this confidence with a sneer. "You aspire very

high for a little girl of the wilderness, without for-

tune, and only half a coat-of-arms, so to speak. Do

you know that this Rezanov--Dr. Langsdorff has

told us all about him--is a great noble, one of the

ten barons of Russia, and a Chamberlain in accord-

ance with a decree of Peter the Great that court

titles should be bestowed as a reward for distin-

guished services alone? He got a fortune in his

youth by marriage with a daughter of Shelikov--

that Siberian who founded the Russian colonies in

America. The wife died almost immediately, but

the Baron's influence remained with Shelikov--for

his influence at court was even greater--and after

the older man's death, with his mother-in-law, who

is uncommonly clever. Shelikov's schemes were

but little sketches beside Rezanov's, who from merely a

courtier and a gay blood about town developed into

a great man of business, with an ambition to corre-

spond. It was he who got the Imperial ukase that

gave the Russian-American Company its power to

squeeze all the other fur hunters and traders out of

the northeast, and made Rezanov and everybody

belonging to it so rich your head would swim if I

told you the number of doubloons they spend in a

year. Nobody has ever been so clever at managing

those old beasts of autocrats as he. They think him

merely the accomplished courtier, a brilliant dilet-

tante, a condescending patron of art and letters, a

devotee of pleasure, and all the time he is pulling

their befuddled old brains about to suit himself.

The Tsar Paul was a lunatic and they murdered

him, but meanwhile he signed the ukase. The Tsar

Alexander, who is not so bad nor so silly as the

others, thinks there is no man so clever as Rezanov,

who addresses him personally when sending home

his reports. Do you know what all that means?

Your plenipotentiary is not only a Chamberlain at

court, a Privy Councillor, and the Tsar himself on

this side of the world, but when his inspections and

reforms are concluded, and he is one of the wealth-

iest men in Russia, he will return to St. Petersburg

and become so high and mighty that a princess

would snap at him. And you aspire! I never

heard such nonsense."

"His excellency told me much of this," replied

Concha imperturbably. "And I am sure that he

cares nothing for princesses and will marry whom

he most admires. He would not say, but I know

he cared nothing for that poor little wife, dead so

long ago. It was a mariage de convenance, such

as all the great world is accustomed to. He will

love me more than all the fine ladies he has ever

seen. I feel it. I know it! And I am quite happy."

"Do you love him?" asked Santiago, looking

curiously at his sister's flushed and glowing face.

It seemed to him that she had never looked so

young. "Many have loved you. I had begun to

think you had no heart for men, no wish for any-

thing but admiration. And now you give your

heart in a day to this Russian--who must be nearly

forty--unasked."

"I have not thought of my heart at all. But I

could love him, of course. He is so handsome, so

kind, so grand, so gay! But love is for men and

wives--has not my mother said so? Now I think

only of St. Petersburg! of Paris! of London! of

the beautiful gowns and jewels I shall wear at court

--a red velvet train as long as a queen's, and all

embroidered with gold, a white veil spangled with

gold, a head-dress a foot high studded with jewels,

ropes of diamonds and pearls--I made him tell me

how the great ladies dressed. Ah! there is the

pleasure of being a girl--to think and dream of all

those beautiful things, not of when the wife must

live always for the husband and children. That

comes soon enough. And why should I not have

all!--there is so little in life for the girl. It seems

to me now that I have had nothing. When he asks

me to marry him he will tell me of the fine things

I shall have and the great sights I shall witness--

the ceremonies at court, the winter streets--with

snow--snow, Santiago!--where the great nobles

drive four horses through the drifts like little hills,

and are wrapped in furs like bears! The grand

military parades--how I shall laugh when I think

of our poor little Presidios with their dozen officers

strutting about--" She stopped abruptly and

bursting wildly into tears flung herself into her

brother's arms. "But I never could leave you! And

my father! my mother! all! all! Ay, Dios de mi

alma! what an ingrate I am! I should die of home-

sickness! My Santiago! My Santiago!"

Santiago patted her philosophically. "You are

not going to-morrow," he reminded her. "Don't

cross your bridges until you come to them. That is

a good proverb for maids and men. You might

take us all with you, or spend every third year or so

in California. No doubt you would need the rest.

And meanwhile remember that the high and mighty

Chamberlain has not yet asked for the honor of an

alliance with the house of Arguello, and that your

brother will match his best fighting cock against

your new white lace mantilla from Mexico, that

he is not meditating any project so detrimental to

his fortunes. Console yourself with the reflection

that if he were, our father and the priests, and the

Governor himself, would die of apoplexy. He is a

heretic--a member of the Greek Church! Hast thou

lost thy reason, Conchita? Dry your eyes and

come home to sleep, and let us hear no more of

marriage with a man who is not only a barbarian of

the north and a heretic, but so proud he does not

think a Californian good enough to wash his

decks."

It was long before Rezanov slept that night. The

usual chill had come in from the Pacific as the sun

went down, and the distinguished visitor had inti-

mated to his hosts that he should like to exercise

on shore until ready for his detested quarters; but

Arguello dared not, in the absence of his father, in-

vite the foreigner even to sleep in the house so

lavishly offered in the morning; although he had

sent such an abundance of provisions to the ship

that the poor sailors were deep in sleep, gorged like

boa-constrictors; and he could safely promise that

while the Juno remained in port her larder should

never be empty. He shared the evening bowl of

punch in the cabin, then went his way lamenting

that he could not take his new friends with him.

Rezanov paced the little deck of the Juno to keep

his blood in stir. There was no moon. The islands

and promontories on the great sheet of water were

black save for the occasional glow of an Indian

camp-fire. There was not a sound but the lapping

of the waves, the roar of distant breakers. The

great silver stars and the little green stars looked

down upon a solitude that was almost primeval, yet

mysteriously disturbed by the restless currents in

the brain of a man who had little in common with

primal forces.

Rezanov was uneasy on more scores than one.

He was annoyed and mortified at the discovery--

made over the punch bowl--that the girl he had

taken to be twenty was but sixteen. It was by no

means his first experience of the quick maturity of

southern women--but sixteen! He had never

wasted a moment on a chit before, and although he

was a man of imagination, and notwithstanding

her intelligence and dignity, he could not reconcile

properties so conflicting with any sort of feminine

ideal.

And the pressing half of his mission he had con-

fided to her! No man knew better than he the

value of a tactful and witty woman in the political

dilemmas of life; more than one had given him

devoted service, nor ever yet had he made a mistake.

After several hours spent in the society of this clever,

politic, dissatisfied girl he had come to the conclu-

sion that he could trust her, and had told her of the

lamentable condition of the creatures in the employ

of the Russian-American Company; of their chronic

state of semi-starvation, of the scurvy that made

them apathetic of brain and body, and eventually

would exterminate them unless he could establish

reciprocal trade relations with California and obtain

regular supplies of farinaceous food; acknowl-

edged that he had brought a cargo of Russian and

Boston goods necessary to the well-being of the Mis-

sions and Presidios, and that he would not return

to the wretched people of Sitka, at least, without a

generous exchange of breadstuffs, dried meats, peas,

beans, barley and tallow. Not only had he no long-

er the courage to witness their misery, but his for-

tune and his career were at stake. His entire capi-

tal was invested in the Company he had founded,

and he had failed in his embassy to Japan--to the

keen mortification of the Tsar and the jubilation of

his enemies. If he left the Emperor's northeastern

dominions unreclaimed and failed to rescue the

Company from its precarious condition, he hardly

should care to return to St. Petersburg.

Dona Concha had listened to this eloquent

harangue--they sat alone at one end of the long

sala while Luis at the other toiled over letters to the

Governor and his father advising them of the for-

midable honor of the Russian's visit--in exactly

the temper he would have chosen. Her fine eyes

had melted and run over at the moving tale of the

sufferings of the servants of the Company--until

his own had softened in response and he had im-

pulsively kissed her hand; they had dilated and

flashed as he spoke of his personal apprehensions;

and when he had given her a practical explanation

of his reasons for coming to California she had

given him advice as practical in return.

He must withhold from her father and the Gov-

ernor the fact of his pressing need; they were high

officials with an inflexible sense of duty, and did all

they could to enforce the law against trading with

foreigners. He was to maintain the fiction of belt-

ing the globe, but admit that he had indulged in a

dream of commercial relations--for a benefit strictly

mutual--between neighbors as close as the Spanish

and Russians in America. This would interest

them--what would not, on the edge of the world?

--and they would agree to lay the matter, rein-

forced by a strong personal plea, before the Viceroy

of Mexico; who in turn would send it to the Cab-

inet and King at Madrid. Meanwhile, he was to

confide in the priests at the Mission. Not only

would their sympathies be enlisted, but they did

much trading under the very nose of the govern-

ment. Not for personal gain--they were vowed to

a life of poverty; but for their Indian converts;

and as there were twelve hundred at the Mission of

San Francisco, they would wink at many things con-

demnable in the abstract. He had engaged to visit

them on the morrow, and he must take presents to

tempt their impersonal cupidity, and invite them to

inspect the rest of his wares--which the Governor

would be informed his Excellency had been forced

to buy with the Juno from the Yankee skipper,

D'Wolf, and would rid himself of did opportunity

offer.

Rezanov had never received sounder advice, and

had promptly accepted it. Now, as he reflected that

it had been given by a girl of sixteen, he was divided

between admiration of her precocity and fear lest

she prove to be too young to keep a secret. More-

over, there were other considerations.

Rezanov, although in his earlier years he had so

far sacrificed his interests and played into the hands

of his enemies, in avoiding the too embarrassing par-

tiality of Catherine the Great, had nevertheless held

a high place at court by right of birth, and been a

man of the world always; rarely absent from St.

Petersburg during the last and least susceptible part

of the imperial courtesan's life, the brief reign of

Paul, and the two years between the accession of

Alexander and the sailing of the Nadeshda. More-

over, there was hardly another court of importance

in Europe with which he was not familiar, and few

men had had a more complete experience of life.

And the life of a courtier, a diplomat, a traveller,

noble, wealthy, agreeable to women by divine right,

with active enemies and a horde of flatterers, in

daily contact with the meaner and more disin-

genuous corners of human nature, is not conducive

to a broad optimism and a sweet and immutable

Christianity. Rezanov inevitably was more or less

cynical and blase', and too long versed in the ways

of courts and courtiers to retain more than a whim-

sical tolerance of the naked truth and an apprecia-

tion of its excellence as a diplomatic manoeuvre.

Nevertheless, he was by nature too impetuous ever

to become under any provocation a dishonest man,

and too normally a gentleman to deviate from a

certain personal code of honor. He might come to

California with fair words and a very definite in-

tention of annexing it to Russia at the first oppor-

tunity, but he was incapable of abusing the hospi-

tality of the Arguellos by making love to their six-

teen-year-old daughter. Had she been of the years

he had assumed, he would have had less scruple in

embarking upon a flirtation, both for the pastime

and the use he might make of her. A Spanish

beauty of twenty, still unmarried, would be more

than his match. But a child, however precocious,

inevitably would fall in love with the first uncom-

mon stranger she met; and Rezanov, less vain than

most men of his kind, and with a fundamental hu-

manity that was the chief cause in his efforts to im-

prove the condition of his wretched promuschleniki,

had no taste for the role of heart-breaker.

But the girl had proved her timeliness; would, if

trustworthy, be of further use in inclining her

father and the Governor toward such of his de-

signs as he had any intentions of revealing; and,

weighing carefully his conversations with her, he

was disposed to believe that she would screen and

abet him through vanity and love of intrigue. After

the dinner, in the seclusion of the sala, he had taken

pains to explore for the causes of her mental ma-

turity. Concha had told him of Don Jose Arguello's

ambition that his children in their youth should have

the education he had been forced to acquire in his

manhood; he had taught them himself, and not-

withstanding his piety and the disapproval of the

priests, had permitted them to read the histories,

travels, and biographies he received once a year

from the City of Mexico. Rezanov had met

Madame de Stael and other bas bleus, and given

them no more of his society than politeness de-

manded, but although astonished at the amount of

information this young girl had assimilated, he

found nothing in her manner of wearing her intel-

lectual crown to offend his fastidious taste. She

was wholly artless in her love of books and of dis-

cussing them; and nothing in their contents had dis-

turbed the sweetest innocence he had ever met. Of

the little arts of coquetry she was mistress by inheri-

tance and much provocation, but her unawakened

inner life breathed the simplicity and purity of the

elemental roses that hovered about her in his

thoughts. Her very unsusceptibility made the game

more dangerous; if it piqued him--and he aspired

to be no more than human--he either should have

to marry her, or nurse a sore spot in his conscience

for the rest of his life; and for neither alternative

had he the least relish.

He dismissed the subject at last with an impatient

shrug. Perhaps he was a conceited ass, as his Eng-

lish friends would say; perhaps the Governor would

be more amenable than she had represented. No

man could forecast events. It was enough to be

forearmed.

But his thoughts swung to a theme as little dis-

burdening. His needs, as he had confided to Con-

cha, were very pressing. The dry or frozen fish,

the sea dogs, the fat of whales, upon which the em-

ployees of the Company were forced to subsist in

the least hospitable of climes, had ravaged them

with scorbutic diseases until their numbers were so

reduced by death and desertion that there was dan-

ger of depopulation and the consequent bankruptcy

of the Company. Since June of the preceding year

until his departure from New Archangel in the pre-

vious month, he had been actively engaged in inspec-

tion of the Company's holdings from Kamchatka

to Sitka: reforming abuses, establishing schools

and libraries, conceiving measures to protect the

fur-bearing animals from reckless slaughter both

by the promuschleniki and marauding foreigners;

punishing and banishing the worst offenders against

the Company's laws; encouraging the faithful, and

sharing hardships with them that sent memories of

former luxuries and pleasures scurrying off to the

realms of fantasy. But his rule would be incom-

plete and his efforts end in failure if the miserable

Russians and natives in the employ of the Com-

pany were not vitalized by proper food and cheered

with the hope of its permanence.

In Santiago's story of the Russian visitor's

achievements and status there was the common

mingling of truth and fiction the exalted never fail

to inspire. Rezanov, although he had accomplished

great ends against greater odds, was too little of a

courtier at heart ever to have been a prime favorite

in St. Petersburg until the accession of a ruler with

whom he had something in common. A dissolute

woman and a crack-brained despot were the last to

appreciate an original and independent mind, and

the seclusion of Alexander had been so complete

during the lifetime of his father that Rezanov barely

had known him by sight. But the Tsarovitz, en-

thusiastic for reform and a passionate admirer of

enterprise, knew of Rezanov, and no sooner did he

mount his gory throne than he confirmed the Cham-

berlain in his enterprise, and two years later made

him a Privy Counsellor, invested him with the order

of St. Ann, and chose him for the critical embassy

to the verdant realm with the blind and gateless

walls.

Rezanov had conquered so far in life even less by

address than by the demonstration of abilities very

singular in a man of his birth and education. When

he met Shelikov, during the Siberian merchant-

trader's visit to St. Petersburg in 1788, he was a

young man with little interest in life outside of its

pleasures, and a patrimony that enabled him to

command them to no great extent and barely to

maintain the dignity of his rank. Shelikov's plan

to obtain a monopoly of the fur trade in the islands

and territories added by his Company to Russia,

possibly throughout the entire possession, thus pre-

venting the destruction of sables, seals, otters, and

foxes by small traders and foreigners, interested

him at once; or possibly he was merely fascinated

at first by the shrewd and dauntless representative

of a class with which he had never before come

in contact. The accidental acquaintance ripened

into intimacy, Rezanov became a partner in the

Shelikov-Golikov Company, and married the daugh-

ter of his new friend. After the death of his

father-in-law, in 1795, his ambitions and business

abilities, now fully awake, prompted him to obtain

for himself and his partners rights analogous to

those granted by England to the East India Com-

pany. Shelikov had won little more than half the

power and privileges he had solicited of Catherine,

although he had amalgamated the two leading com-

panies, drawn in several others, and built ships and

factories and forts to protect them. And if the

regnant merchants made large fortunes, the enter-

prise in general suffered from the rivalries between

the various companies, and above all from lack of

imperial support.

Rezanov, his plans made, brought to bear all the

considerable influence he was able to command,

called upon all his resources of brain and address,

and brought Catherine to the point of consenting

to sign the charter he needed. Before it was ready

for the imperial signature she died. Rezanov was

forced to begin again with her ill-balanced and in-

tractable son. Natalie Shelikov, his famous mother-

in-law, the old shareholders of the Company, and

the many new ones that had subscribed to Rezanov's

ambitious project, gave themselves up to despair.

For a time the outlook was dark. The personal

enemies of Rezanov and the bitter and persistent

opponents of the companies threw themselves eager-

ly into the scale with tales of brutality of the mer-

chants and the threatened extirpation of the fur-

bearing animals. Paul announced his attention to

abolish all the companies and close the colonies to

traders big and little.

But the enemy had a very subtle antagonist in

Rezanov. Apparently dismissing the subject, he ap-

plied himself to gaining a personal ascendancy over

the erratic but impressionable Tsar. No one in the

opposing camp could compare with him in that fine

balance of charm and brain which was his peculiar

gift, or in the adroit manipulation of a mind pro-

pelled mainly by vanity. He studied Paul's moods

and character, discovered that after some senseless

act of oppression he suffered from a corresponding

remorse, and was susceptible to any plan that would

increase his power and add lustre to his name. The

commercial and historic advantages of prosperous

northeastern possessions were artfully instilled. At

the opportune moment Rezanov laid before him a

scheme, mature in every detail, for a great com-

pany that would add to the wealth of Russia, and

convince Europe of the sound commercial sense and

immortal wisdom of its sovereign. Without more

ado he obtained his charter.

This momentous instrument granted to the "Rus-

sian-American Company under our Highest Protec-

tion," "full privileges, for a period of twenty years

on the coast of northwestern America, beginning

from latitude 55 degrees north, and including the

chain of islands extending from Kamchatka north-

ward, and southward to Japan; the exclusive right

to all enterprises, whether hunting, trading, or build-

ing, and to new discoveries; with strict prohibition

from profiting from any of these pursuits, not only

to all parties who might engage in them on their

own responsibility, but also to those who formerly

had ships and establishments there, except those who

have united with the new Company." All private

traders who refused to join the Company were to

be allowed to sell their property and depart in

peace.

Thus was formed the first of the Trusts in

America; and the United States never has had so

formidable a menace to her territorial greatness as

this Russian nobleman who paced that night the

wretched deck of the little ship he had bought from

one of her skippers. Perturbed in mind at his re-

cent failures and immediate prospects, he was no

less determined to take California from the Span-

iards either by absorption or force.

On his way from New Archangel to San Fran-

cisco he had met with his second failure since leav-

ing St. Petersburg. It was his intention to move

the Sitkan colony down to the mouth of the Colum-

bia River; not only pressed by the need of a more

beneficent soil, but as a first insidious advance upon

San Francisco Bay. Upon this trip it would be

enough to make a survey of the ground and bury a

copper plate inscribed: "Possession of the Rus-

sian Empire." The Juno had encountered terrific

storms. After three desperate attempts to reach

the mouth of the river, Rezanov had been forced to

relinquish the enterprise for the moment and hasten

with his diseased and almost useless crew to the

nearest port. It was true that the attempt could be

made again later, but Rezanov, sanguine of tem-

perament, was correspondingly depressed by failure

and disposed to regard it as an ill-omen.

An ambassador inspired by heaven could have

accomplished no more with the Japanese at that

mediaeval stage of their development than he had

done, and the most indomitable of men cannot yet

control the winds of heaven; but sovereigns are

rarely governed by logic, and frequently by the fav-

orite at hand. The privilege of writing personally

to the Tsar, in his case, meant more and less than

appeared on the surface. It was a measure to keep

the reports of the Company out of the hands of the

Admiralty College, its bitterest enemy, and always

jealous of the Civil Service. Nevertheless, Rezanov

knew that he had no immediate reason to apprehend

the loss of Alexander's friendship and esteem; and

if he placed the Company, in which all the imperial

family had bought shares, on a sounder basis than

ever before, and doubled its earnings by insuring the

health of its employees, he would meet, when in St.

Petersburg again, with practically no opposition to

his highest ambitions. These ambitions he delib-

erately kept in a fluid state for the present.

Whether he should aspire to great authority in the

government, or choose to rule with the absolute

powers of the Tsar himself these already vast pos-

sessions on the Pacific--to be extended indefinitely

--would be decided by events. All his inherited and

cultivated instincts yearned for the brilliant and

complex civilizations of Europe, but the new world

had taken a firm hold upon his humaner and

appealed more insidiously to his despotic. More-

over, Europe, torn up by that human earthquake,

Napoleon Bonaparte, must lose the greater half of

its sweetness and savor. All that, however, could

be determined upon his return to St. Petersburg in

the autumn.

But meanwhile he must succeed with these Cali-

fornians, or they might prove, toy soldiers as they

were, more perilous to his fortunes than enemies at

court. He could not afford another failure; and

news of this attempt and an exposition of all that

depended upon it were already on the road to the

capital of Russia.

He had known, of course, of the law that forbade

the Spanish colonies to trade with foreign ships,

but he had relied partly upon the use he could make

of the orders given by the Spanish King at the

request of the Tsar regarding the expedition under

Krusenstern, partly upon his own wit and address.

But although the royal order had insured him imme-

diate hospitality and saved him many wearisome

formalities, he had already discovered that the

Spanish on the far rim of their empire had lost

nothing of their connate suspicion. Rather, their

isolation made them the more wary. Although they

little appreciated the richness and variousness of

California's soil, and not at all this wonderful bay

that would accommodate the combined navies of the

world, pocketing several, the pious zeal of the clergy

in behalf of the Indians, and the general policy of

Spain to hold all of the western hemisphere that

disintegrating forces would permit, made her as

tenacious of this vast territory she had so sparsely

populated as had she been aware that its founda-

tions were of gold, conceived that its climate and

soil were a more enduring source of wealth than

ever she would command again. If Rezanov was

not gifted with the prospector's sense for ores--

although he had taken note of Arguello's casual ref-

erence to a vein of silver and lead in the Monterey

hills--no man ever more thoroughly appreciated the

visible resources of California than he. Baranhov,

chief-manager of the Company, had talked with

American and British skippers for twenty years, and

every item he had accumulated Rezanov had

extracted. To-day he had drawn further informa-

tion from Concha and her brothers; and their art-

less descriptions as well as this incomparable bay

had filled him with enthusiasm. What a gift to

Russia! What an achievement to his immortal

credit! The fog rolled in from the Pacific in great

white waves and stealthily enfolded him, obliterated

the sea and the land. But he did not see it. Appre-

hension left him. Once more he fell to dreaming.

In the course of a few years the Company would

attract a large population to the mouth of the

Columbia River, be strong enough to make use of

any favorable turn in European politics and sweep

down upon California. The geographical position

of Mexico, the arid and desolate, herbless and

waterless wastes intervening, would prohibit her

sending any considerable assistance overland; and,

all powerful at court by that time, he would take

care that the Russian navy inspired Spain with a

distaste for remote Pacific waters. He had long

since recovered from the disappointment induced

by the orders compelling him to remain in the col-

onies. The great Company he had heretofore re-

garded merely as a source of income and a means of

advancing his ambitions, he now loved as his child.

Even during the marches over frozen swamps and

mountains, during the terrible winter in Sitka when

he had become familiar with illness and even with

hunger, his ardor had grown, as well as his deter-

mination to force Russia into the front rank of

Commercial Europe. The United States he barely

considered. He respected the new country for

the independent spirit and military genius that

had routed so powerful a nation as Great Britain,

but he thought of her only as a new and tentative

civilization on the far shores of the Atlantic. After

some experience of travel in Siberia, and knowing

the immensity and primeval conditions of north-

western America, he did not think it probable that

the little cluster of states, barely able to walk alone,

would indulge in dreams of expansion for many

years to come. He had heard of the projected ex-

pedition of Lewis and Clarke to the mouth of the

Columbia, but--perhaps he was too Russian--he

did not take any adventure seriously that had not

a mighty nation at its back. And as it was almost

the half of a century from that night before the

American flag flew over the Custom House of Mon-

terey, there is reason to believe that Russian aggres-

sion under the leadership of so energetic and re-

sourceful a spirit as Nicolai Petrovich de Rezanov

was in a fair way to make history first in the New

Albion of Drake and the California of the incompe-

tent Spaniard.

The Russians were to call at the house of the Com-

mandante on their way to the Mission, and Concha

herself made the chocolate with which they were

to be detained for another hour. It was another spark-

ling morning, one of the few that came between

winter and summer, summer and winter, and made

even this bleak peninsula a land of enchantment be-

fore the cold winds took the sand hills up by their

foundations and drove them down to Yerba Buena,

submerging the battery and every green thing by

the way; or the great fogs rolled down from the

tule lands of the north and in from the sea, making

the shivering San Franciscan forget that not ten

miles away the sun was as prodigal as youth. For

a few weeks San Francisco had her springtime,

when the days were warm and the air of a wonder-

ful lightness and brightness, the atmosphere so clear

that the flowers might be seen on the islands, when

man walked with wings on his feet and a song in his

heart; when the past was done with, the future

mattered not, the present with its ever changing

hues on bay and hill, its cool electrical breezes stir-

ring imagination and pulse, was all in all.

And it was in San Francisco's springtime that

Concha Arguello made chocolate for the Russian

to whom she was to give a niche in the history of

her land; and sang at her task. She whirled the

molinillo in each cup as it was filled, whipping the

fragrant liquid to froth; pausing only to scold when

her servant stained one of the dainty saucers or

cups. Poor Rosa did not sing, although the spring

attuned her broken spirit to a gentler melancholy

than when the winds howled and the fog was cold

in her marrow. She had been sentenced by the last

Governor, the wise Borica, to eight years of domes-

tic servitude in the house of Don Jose Arguello for

abetting her lover in the murder of his wife. Con-

cha, thoughtless in many things, did what she could

to exorcise the terror and despair that stared from

the eyes of the Indian and puzzled her deeply. Rosa

adored her young mistress and exulted even when

Concha's voice rose in wrath; for was not she

noticed by the loveliest senorita in all the Cali-

fornias, while others, envious and spiteful to a poor

girl no worse than themselves, were ignored?

Concha's cheeks were as pink as the Castilian

roses that grew even before the kitchen door and

were quivering at the moment under the impas-

sioned carolling of a choir of larks. Her black eyes

were full of dancing lights, like the imprisoned sum-

flecks under the rose bush, and never had indolent

Spanish hands moved so quickly.

"Mira! Mira!" she cried to the luckless Rosa.

"That is the third time thou hast spilt the chocolate.

Thy hands are of wood when they should be of

air. A soft bit of linen to clean them, not that

coarse rag. Dios de mi alma! I shall send for

Malia."

"For the love of Mary, senorita, have pity!"

wailed Rosa. "There--see--thanks to the Virgin I

have poured three cups without spilling a drop. And

this rag is of soft linen. Look, Dona Concha, is it

not true?"

"Bueno; take care thou leavest not one drop on

a saucer and I will forgive thee--do not kiss my

hand now, foolish one! How can I whirl the moli-

nillo? Be always good and I will burn a candle for

thee every time I go to the Mission. The Russians

go to the Mission this morning. Hast thou seen the

Russians, Rosa?"

"I have seen them, senorita. Did I not serve at

table yesterday?"

"True; I had forgotten. What didst thou think

of them?"

"What matters it to such great folk what a poor

Indian girl thinks of them? They are very fair,

which may be the fashion in their country; but I

am not accustomed to it; and I like not beards."

"His excellency wore no beard--he who sat on

my mother's right and opposite to me."

"He is very grand, senorita; more grand than the

Governor, who after all has red hair and is old. He

is even grander than Don Jose, whom may the

saints preserve; or than the padres at the mission.

Perhaps he is a king, like our King and natural

lord in spain. (El rey nuestro y senor natural.)

Is he a king, senorita?"

"No, but he should be. Rosa, thou mayest have

my red cloak that came from Mexico--last year.

I have a new one and that is too small. I had

intended to give it to Ana Paula, but thou art a

good girl and should have a gay mantle for Sunday,

like the other girls. I have also a red ribbon for

thy hair--"

Rosa spilt half the contents of the chocolate pot

on the floor and Concha gave her a sound box on

the ear. However, she did not dismiss her, a sen-

tence for which the trembling girl prepared herself.

"Make more--quickly!" cried the lady of caprice.

"They come. I hear them. But this is enough for

the first. Make the rest and beat with the molinillo

as I have done, and Malia will bring all to the cor-

ridor."

She ran to her room and her mirror. Both were

small, the room little more luxurious than the cell

of a nun. But the roses hung over the window,

the birds had built in the eaves, and over the wall

the sun shone in. In one corner was an altar and

a crucifix. If the walls were rough and white,

they were spotless as the hands that shook out and

then twisted high the fine dusky masses of hair.

When a fold had been drawn over either ear, in

the modest fashion of the California maid and wife,

and the tall shell comb had fastened the rest, Con-

cha instead of finishing the headdress with her long

Spanish pins, divested the stems of two half-blown

roses of their thorns and thrust them obliquely

through the knot. Her dress was of simple white

linen made with a very full skirt and little round

jacket, but embroidered by her own deft fingers

with the color she loved best. She patted her frock,

rolled down her sleeves, and went out to the "corri-

dor" to stand demurely behind her mother as the

Russians, escorted by Father Ramon Abella, rode

into the square.

Rezanov had intended merely to pay a call of

ceremony upon the hospitable Arguellos, but after

he had dismounted and kissed the hands of the

smiling senora and her beautiful daughter he was

nothing loath to linger over a cup of chocolate.

It was served out there in the shade of the vines.

Rezanov and Concha sat on the railing, and the

man stared over his cup at the girl with the roses

touching her cheeks and ruffling her hair.

"Do you like chocolate, senor?" asked Concha,

who was not in the intellectual mood of yesterday.

"I made it myself--I and my poor Rosa."

"It is the most delectable foam I have ever tasted.

I am interested to know that it has the solid founda-

tion of a name. What is the matter with your

Rosa?"

"She is an unfortunate. Her lover killed his

wife, and it is said that she is not innocent herself.

The lover serves in chains for eight years, and she

is with us that we may make her repent and keep

her from further sin. She is unhappy and will

marry the man when his punishment is over. I am

very sorry for her."

"Fancy you living close to a woman like that!

I find it detestable."

"Why?--if I can do her good--and make her

happy, sometimes?"

"Does she ever talk about her life--before she

came here?"

"Oh, no; she is far too sad. Once only, when I

told her I would pray for her in the Mission Church,

she asked me to burn a candle that her lover might

serve his sentence more quickly and come out and

marry her. Will you light one for her to-day,

senor?"

"With the greatest pleasure; if you really want

your maid to marry a man who no doubt will mur-

der her for the sake of some other woman."

"Oh, surely not! He loves her. I know that

many men love more than once, but when they are

punished like that, they must remember."

"Is it true that you are only sixteen? Is that an

impertinent question? I cannot help it. Those

years are so few, and so much wisdom has gone

into that little head."

"Sixteen is quite old." Concha drew herself up

with an air of offended dignity. "Elena Castro,

who lives on the other side, is but eighteen and she

has three little ones. The Virgin brought them in

the night and left them in the big rosebush you see

before the door--one at a time, of course. Only

the old nurse knew; the Virgin whispered it while

she was saying a prayer for Elena; and early in the

morning she came and found the dear little baby

and put it in Elena's arms. I am the godmother of

the first--Conchitita. In Santa Barbara, where we

lived for some years, Anita Amanda Carillo, the

friend of Ana Paula, is married, although she is

but twelve and sits on the floor all day and plays

with her dolls. She prays every night to the Virgin

to bring her a real baby, but she is not old enough

to take care of it and must wait. Twelve is too

young to marry." Concha shook her head. Her

eyes were wise, and Rezanov noted anew that her

mouth alone was as young as her years. "My father

would not permit such a thing. I am glad he is not

anxious we should marry soon. I should love to

have the babies, though; they are so sweet to play

with and make little dresses for. But my mother

says the Virgin does not bring the little ones to

good girls--poor Rosa had one but it died--until

their parents find them a husband first. I have

never wanted a husband--" Concha darted a

swift glance over her shoulder, but Santiago was in

the clutches of the learned doctor and wishing that

he knew no Latin; "so I go every day and play with

Elena's babies, which is well enough."

Rezanov listened to this innocent revelation with

the utmost gravity, but for the first time in many

years he was conscious of a novel fascination in a

sex to which he had paid no niggard's tribute. In

his world the married woman reigned; it was doubt-

ful if he had ever had ten minutes' conversation

with a young girl before, never with one whose face

and form were as arresting as her crystal purity.

He was fascinated, but more than ever on his guard.

As he rode over the sand hills to the Mission she

clung fast to his thoughts and he speculated upon

the woman hidden away in the depths of that lovely

shell like the deep color within the tight Castilian

buds that opened so slowly. He recalled the per-

sonalities of the young officers that surrounded her.

They were charming fellows, gay, kindly, honest;

but he felt sure that not one of them was fit to hold

the cup of life to the exquisite young lips of Concha

Arguello. The very thought disposed him to twist

their necks.

The Mission San Francisco de Assisi stood at the

head of a great valley about a league from the

Presidio and facing the eastern hills. Behind it,

yet not too close, for the priests were ever on their

guard against Indians more lustful of loot than sal-

vation, was a long irregular chain of hills, break-

ing into twin peaks on its highest ridge, with a

lone mountain outstanding. It was an imposing

but forbidding mass, as steep and bare as the walls

of a fortress; but in the distance, north and south,

as the range curved in a tapering arc that gave

the valley the appearance of a colossal stadium,

the outlines were soft in a haze of pale color. The

sheltered valley between the western heights and

the sand hills far down the bay where it turned to

the south, was green with wheat fields, and a small

herd of cattle grazed on the lower slopes. The

beauty of this superbly proportioned valley was

further enhanced by groves of oaks and bay trees,

and by a lagoon, communicating with an arm of the

bay, which the priests had named for their Lady

of Sorrows--Nuestra Senora de los Dolores. The

little sheet of water was almost round, very green

and set in a thicket of willows that were green, too,

in the springtime, and golden in summer. Near

its banks, or closer to the protecting Mission--on

whose land grant they were built--were the com-

fortable adobe homes of the few Spanish pioneers

that preferred the bracing north to the monotonous

warmth of the south. Some of these houses were

long and rambling, others built about a court; all

were surrounded by a high wall, enclosing a gar-

den where the Castilian roses grew even more lux-

uriantly than at the Presidio. The walls, like the

houses, were white, and on those of Don Juan

Moraga, a cousin of Dona Ignacia Arguello, the

roses had been trained to form a border along the

top in a fashion that reminded Rezanov of the pink

edged walls of Fiesole.

The white red-tiled church and the long line of

rooms adjoining were built of adobe with no effort

at grandeur, but with a certain noble simplicity of

outline that harmonized not only with the lofty re-

serve of the hills but with the innocent hope of creat-

ing a soul in the lowest of human bipeds. The

Indians of San Francisco were as immedicable as

they were hideous; but the fathers belabored them

with sticks and heaven with prayer, and had so far

succeeded that if as yet they had sown piety no

higher than the knees, they had trained some twelve

hundred pairs of hands to useful service.

On the right was a graveyard, with little in it as

yet but rose trees; behind the church and the many

spacious rooms built for the consolation of virtue

in the wilderness was a large building surrounding

a court. Girls and young widows occupied the cells

on the north side, and the work rooms on the east,

while the youths, under the sharp eye of a lay

brother, were opposite. All lived a life of unwill-

ing industry: cleaning and combing wool, spinning,

weaving, manufacturing chocolate, grinding corn

between stones, making shoes, fashioning the simple

garments worn by priest and Indian. Between the

main group of buildings and the natural rampart

of the "San Bruno Mountains" was the Rancheria,

where the Indian families lived in eight long rows

of isolated huts.

In spite of vigilance an Indian escaped now and

again to the mountains, where he could lie naked in

the sun and curse the fetich of civilization. As the

Russians approached, a friar, with deer-skin armor

over his cassock, was tugging at a recalcitrant mule,

while a body-guard of four Indians stood ready to

attend him down the coast in search of an enviable

brother. The mule, as if in sympathy with the

fugitive, had planted his four feet in the earth and

lifted his voice in derision, while the young friar, a

recruit at the Mission, and far from enamored of

his task, strained at the rope, and an Indian pelted

the hindquarters with stones. Suddenly, the mule

flung out his heels, the enemy in the rear sprawled,

the rope flew loose, the beast with a loud bray fled

toward the willows of Dolores. But the young

priest was both agile and angry. With a flying leap

he reached the heaving back. The mule acknowl-

edged himself conquered. The body-guard trotted

on their own feet, and the party disappeared round

a bend of the hills.

Rezanov laughed heartily and even the glum vis-

age of Father Abella relaxed.

"It is a common sight, Excellency," he said. "We

are thankful to have a younger friar for such

fatiguing work. Many a time have I belabored

stubborn mules and bestrode bucking mustangs

while searching for one of these ungrateful but no

doubt chosen creatures. It is the will of God, and

we make no complaint; but we are very willing,

Father Landaeta and I, that youth should cool its

ardor in so certain a fashion while we attend to the

more reasonable duties at home."

They were dismounted at the door of the church.

The horses were led off by waiting Indians. The

soldiers on guard saluted and stepped aside, and

the party entered. Two priests in handsome vest-

ments stood before the altar, but the long dim nave

was empty. The Russians had been told that a

mass would be said in their honor, and they

marched down the church and bent their knees

with as much ceremony as had they been of the

faith of their hosts. When the short mass was

over, Rezanov bethought himself of Concha's re-

quest, and whispering its purport to Father Abella

was led to a double iron hoop stuck with tallow dips

in various stages of petition. Rezanov lit a candle

and fastened it in an empty socket. Then with a

whimsical twist of his mouth he lit and adjusted

another.

"No doubt she has some fervent wish, like all

children," he thought apologetically. "And whether

this will help her to realize it or not, at least it will

be interesting to watch her eyes--and mouth--

when I tell her. Will she melt, or flash, or receive

my offering at her shrine as a matter of course?

I'll surprise her to-night in the middle of a dance."

He deposited a gold piece among the candles on

the table and followed Father Abella through a side

door. A corridor ran behind the long line of rooms

designed not only for priests but for travellers al-

ways sure of a welcome at these hospitable Mis-

sions. Father Abella shuffled ahead, halted on the

threshold of a large room, and ceremoniously in-

vited his guests to enter. Two other priests stood

before a table set with wine and delicate confec-

tions, their hands concealed in their wide brown

sleeves, but their unmatched physiognomies--the one

lean and jovial, the other plump and resigned--

alight with the same smile of welcome. Father

Abella mentioned them as his coadjutor Father

Martin Landaeta, and their guest Father Jose Uria

of San Jose; and then the three, with the scant rites

of genuine hospitality, applied themselves to the tick-

ling of palates long unused to ambrosial living. Re-

sponding ingenuously to the glow of their home-

made wines, they begged Rezanov to accept the Mis-

sion, burn it, plunder it, above all, to plan his own

day.

"I hope that I am to see every detail of your great

work," replied the diplomatic guest of honor. "But

at your own leisure. Meanwhile, I beg that you

will order one of your Indians to bring in the little

presents I venture to offer as a token of my respect.

You may have heard that the presents of his Im-

perial Majesty were refused by the Mikado of

Japan. I reserved many of them for possible use in

our own possessions, particularly a piece of cloth of

gold. This I had intended for our church at New

Archangel, but finding the priests there more in

need of punishment than reward, I concluded to

bring it here and offer it as a manifest of my ad-

miration for what the great Franciscan Order of

the Most Holy Church of Rome has accomplished

in the Californias. Have I been too presump-

tuous?"

The priests all wore the eager expressions of chil-

dren.

"Could we not see them first?" asked Father Lan-

daeta of his superior; and Father Abella sent a ser-

vant with an order to unload the horse and bring in

the presents.

Not a vestige of reserve lingered. Priests and

guests sat about the table eating and drinking and

chatting as were they old friends reunited, and

Rezanov extracted much of the information he de-

sired. The white population--"gente de razon"--

of Alta California, the peculiar province of the

Franciscans--the Jesuits having been the first to

invade Baja California, and with little success--

numbered about two thousand, the Christianized

Indians about twenty thousand. There were nine-

teen Missions and four Presidial districts--San

Diego, close to the border of Baja California, Santa

Barbara, Monterey, and San Francisco. Each Mis-

sion had an immense grant of land, or rancho--

generally fifteen miles square--for the raising of

live stock, agricultural necessities, and the grape.

At the Presidio of San Francisco there were some

seventy men, including invalids; and the number

varied little at the other military centres, Rezanov

inferred, although there was a natural effort to im-

press the foreigner with the casual inferiority of

the armed force within his ken. Cattle and horses

increased so rapidly that every few years there was

a wholesale slaughter, although the agricultural

yield was enormous. What the Missions were un-

able to manufacture was sent them from Mexico,

and disposed of the small salaries of the priests;

the "Pious Fund of California" in the city of

Mexico being systematically embezzled. The first

Presidio and Mission were founded at San Diego

in July of 1769; the last at San Francisco in Sep-

tember and October of 1776.

Rezanov's polite interest in the virgin country

was cut short by the entrance of two Indians carry-

ing heavy bundles, which they opened upon the floor

without further delay.

The cloth of gold was magnificent, and the padres

handled it as rapturously as had their souls and fin-

gers been of the sex symbolized while exalted by the

essence of maternity, in whose service it would be

anointed. Rezanov looked on with an amused

sigh, yet conscious of being more comprehending

and sympathetic than if he had journeyed straight

from Europe to California. It was not the first time

he had felt a passing gratitude for his uncomfort-

able but illuminating sojourn so close to the springs

of nature.

The priests were as well pleased with the pieces

of fine English cloth; and as their own homespun

robes rasped like hair shirts, they silently but uni-

formly congratulated themselves that the color was

brown.

Father Abella turned to Rezanov, his saturnine

features relaxed.

"We are deeply grateful to your excellency, and

our prayers shall follow you always. Never have

we received presents so timely and so magnificent.

And be sure we shall not forget the brave officers

that have brought you safely to our distant shores,

nor the distinguished scholar who guards your ex-

cellency's health." He turned to Langsdorff and

repeated himself in Latin. The naturalist, whose

sharp nose was always lifted as if in protest against

oversight and ready to pounce upon and penetrate

the least of mysteries, bowed with his hand on his

heart, and translated for the benefit of the officers.

"Humph!" said Davidov in Russian. "Much the

Chamberlain will care for the prayers of the Cath-

olic Church if he has to go home with his cargo.

But he has a fine opportunity here for the display

of his diplomatic talents. I fancy they will avail him

more than they did at Nagasaki--where I am told

he swore more than once when he should have kow-

towed and grinned."

"I shouldn't like to see him grin," replied Khos-

tov, as they finally started for the outbuildings. "If

he could go as far as that he would be the most

terrible man living. Were it not for the fire in him

that melts the iron just so often he would be crafty

and cruel instead of subtle and firm. He is a for-

tunate man! There were many fairies at his cradle!

I have always envied him, and now he is going to

win that beautiful Dona Concha. She will look at

none of us."

"We will doubtless meet others as beautiful at

the ball to-night," said Davidov philosophically.

"You are not in love with a girl who has barely

spoken to you, I suppose."

"She had almost given me a rose this morning,

when Rezanov, who was flattering the good Dona

Ignacia with a moment of his attention, turned too

soon. I might have been air. She looked straight

through me. Such eyes! Such teeth! Such a form!

She is the most enchanting girl I have ever seen.

And he will monopolize her without troubling to

notice whether we even admire her or not. Pray

heaven he does not break her heart."

"He is honorable. One must admit that, if he

does fancy his own will was a personal gift from

the Almighty. Perhaps she will break his. I never

saw a more accomplished flirt."

"I know women," replied the shrewder Khos-

tov. When men like Rezanov make an effort to

please--" He shrugged his shoulders. "Some

men are the offspring of Mars and Venus and most

of us are not. We can at least be philosophers.

Let us hope the dinner will be excellent."

VII

It proved to be the most delicate and savory repast

that had excited their appetites this side of Europe.

The friars had their consolations, and even Dona

Ignacia Arguello was less gastronomic than Father

Landaeta. Rezanov, whose epicurianism had sur-

vived a year of dried fish and the coarse luxuries

of his managers, suddenly saw all life in the light of

the humorist, and told so many amusing versions of

his adventures in the wilderness, and even of his

misadventure with Japan, that the priests choked

over their wine, and Langsdorff, who had not a

grain of humor, swelled with pride in his chance

relationship to a man who seemed able to manip-

ulate every string in the human network.

"He will succeed," he said to Davidov. "He will

succeed. I almost hoped he would not, he is so in-

different--I might almost say so hostile--to my

own scientific adventures. But when he is in this

mood, when those cold eyes brim with laughter and

ordinary humanity, I am nothing better than his

slave."

Rezanov, in reply to an entreaty from Father

Uria to tell them more of his mission and of the

strange picture-book country they had never hoped

to hear of at first hand, assumed a tone of great

frankness and intimacy. "We were, with astound-

ing cleverness, treated from the first like an audi-

ence in a new theatre. After we had solemnly been

towed by a string of boats to anchor, under the

Papen mountains, all Nagasaki appeared to turn

out, men, women and children. Thousands of little

boats, decorated with flags by day and colored lan-

terns by night, and filled with people in gala attire,

swarmed about us, gazed at us through telescopes,

were so thick on the bay one could have traversed

it on foot. The imperial sailors were distinguished

by their uniforms of a large blue and white check,

suggesting the pinafores of a brobdingnagian baby.

The barges of the imperial princes were covered

with blue and white awnings and towed to the sound

of kettledrums and the loud measured cries of the

boatmen. At night the thousands of illuminated

lanterns, of every color and shade, the waving of

fans, the incessant chattering, and the more har-

monious noise that rose unceasingly above, made up

a scene as brilliant as it was juvenile and absurd.

In the daytime it was more interesting, with the

background of hills cultivated to their crests in the

form of terraces, varied with rice fields, hamlets,

groves, and paper villas encircled with little gardens

as glowing and various of color as the night lan-

terns. When, at last, I was graciously permitted to

have a residence on a point of land called Megasaki,

I was conveyed thither in the pleasure barge of the

Prince of Fisi. There was place for sixty oarsmen,

but as one of the few tokens of respect, I was en-

abled to record for the comfort of the mighty sov-

ereign whose representative I was, the barge was

towed by a long line of boats, decorated with flags,

the voices of the rowers rising and falling in meas-

ured cadence as they announced to all Japan the

honor about to be conferred upon her. I sat on a

chair of state in the central compartment of the

barge, and quite alone; my suite standing on a

raised deck beyond. Before me on a table, mar-

vellously inlaid, were my credentials. I was sur-

rounded by curtains of sky-blue silk and panels of

polished lacquer inwrought with the Imperial arms

in gold. The awning of blue and white silk was

lined with a delicate and beautiful tapestry, and the

reverse sides of the silken partitions were of canvas

painted by the masters of the country. The pol-

ished floor was covered by a magnificent carpet

woven with alarming dragons whose jaws pointed

directly at my chair of state. And such an escort

and such a reception, both of ceremony and of

curiosity, no Russian had ever boasted before.

Flags waved, kettledrums beat, fans were flung into

my very lap to autograph. The bay, the hills, were

a blaze of color and a confusion of sound. The

barracks were hung with tapestries and gay silks. I,

with my arms folded and in full uniform, my fea-

tures composed to the impassivity of one of their

own wooden gods, was the central figure of this

magnificent farce; and it may be placed to the ever-

lasting credit of the discipline of courts that not

one of my staff smiled. They stood with their arms

folded and their eyes on the inlaid devices at their

feet.

"When this first act was over and I was locked

in for the night and felt myself able to kick my way

through the flimsy walls, yet as completely a pris-

oner as if they had been of stone, I will confess

that I fell into a most undiplomatical rage; and

when I found myself played with from month to

month by a people I scorned as a grotesque mix-

ture of barbarian and mannikin, I was alternately

infuriated, and consumed with laughter at the van-

ity of men and nations."

His voice dropped from its light ironical note,

and became harsh and abrupt with reminiscent dis-

gust. "And the end of it all was failure. The

superb presents of the Tsar were rejected. These

presents: coats of black fox and ermine, vases of

fossil ivory and of marble, muskets, pistols, sabers,

magnificent lustres, table services of crystal and

porcelain, tapestries and carpets, immense mirrors,

a clock in the form of an elephant, and set with

precious stones, a portrait of the Tsar by Madame

le Brun, damasks, furs, velvets, printed cotton,

cloths, brocades of gold and silver, microscopes,

gold and silver watches, a complete electrical ma-

chine--presents in all, of the value of three hundred

thousand roubles, were returned with scant cere-

mony to the Nadeshda and I was politely told to

leave.

"But the mortification was the least of my wor-

ries. The object of the embassy was to establish not

only good will and friendship between Russia and

Japan, for which we cared little, but commercial

intercourse between this fertile country and our

northeastern and barren possessions. It would have

been greatly to the advantage of the Japanese, and

God knows it would have meant much to us."

Then Rezanov having tickled the imaginations

and delighted the curiosity of the priests, began to

play upon their heartstrings. His own voice

vibrated as he related the sufferings of the servants

of the Company, and while avoiding the nomen-

clature and details of their bodily afflictions, gave

so thrilling a hint of their terrible condition that his

audience gasped with sympathy while experiencing

no qualms in their own more fortunate stomachs.

He led their disarmed understandings as far

down the vale of tears as he deemed wise, then per-

mitted himself a magnificent burst of spontaneity.

"I must tell you the object of my mission to

California, my kind friends!" he cried, "although I

beg you will not betray me to the other powers until

I think it wise to speak myself. But I must have

your sympathy and advice. It has long been my

desire to establish relations between Russia and

Spain that should be of mutual benefit to the col-

onies of both in this part of the western hemis-

phere. I have told you of the horrible condition

and needs of my men. They must have a share in

the superfluities of this most prodigal land. But I

make no appeal to your mercy. Trade is not

founded on charity. You well know we have much

you are in daily need of. There should be a bi-

yearly interchange." He paused and looked from

one staring face to the other. He had been wise

in his appeal. They were deeply gratified at being

taken into his confidence and virtually asked to out-

wit the military authorities they detested.

Rezanov continued:

"I have brought the Juno heavy laden, my

fathers, and for the deliberate purpose of barter.

She is full of Russian and Boston goods. I shall

do my utmost to persuade your Governor to give

me of his corn and other farinaceous foods in ex-

change. It may be against your laws, and I am well

aware that for the treaty I must wait, but I beg

you in the name of humanity to point out to his ex-

cellency a way in which he can at the same time

relieve our necessities and placate his conscience."

"We will! We will!" cried Father Abella.

"Would that you had come in the disguise of a

common sea-captain, for we have hoodwinked the

commandantes more than once. But aside from the

suspicion and distrust in which Spain holds Russia

--with so distinguished a visitor as your excellency,

it would be impossible to traffic undetected. But

there must be a way out. There shall be! And will

your excellency kindly let us see the cargo? I am

sure there is much we sadly need: cloth, linen, cot-

ton, boots, shoes, casks, bottles, glasses, plates,

shears, axes, implements of husbandry, saws, sheep-

shears, iron wares--have you any of these things,

Excellency?"

"All and more. Will you come to-morrow?"

"We will! and one way or another they shall be

ours and you shall have breadstuffs for your pitiable

subjects. We have as much need of Europe as you

can have of California, for Mexico is dilatory and

often disregards our orders altogether. One way

or another--we have your promise, Excellency?"

"I shall not leave California without accomplish-

ing what I came for," said Rezanov.

VIII

Concha boxed Rosa's ears twice while being

dressed for the ball that evening. It was true that

excitement had reigned throughout the Presidio all

day, for never had a ball been so hastily planned.

Don Luis had demurred when Concha proposed it

at breakfast; officially to entertain strangers not yet

officially received exceeded his authority. Concha,

waxing stubborn with opposition, vowed that she

would give the ball herself if he did not. Business

immediately afterward took the Commandante ad.

in. down to the Battery at Yerba Buena. Before

he left he gave orders that the large hall in the bar-

racks, where balls usually were held, should be

locked and the key given up to no one but himself.

He returned in the afternoon to find that Concha

had outwitted him. The sala of the Commandante's

house was very large. The furniture had been re-

moved and the walls hung with flags, those of

Spain on three sides, the Russian, borrowed by San-

tiago from the ship, at the head of the room. Con-

cha laughed gaily as Luis stormed about the sala

rasping his spurs on the bare floor.

"Whitewashed walls for guests from St. Peters-

burg!" she jeered, as Luis menaced the flags. "We

have little enough to offer. Besides--what more

wise than to flaunt our flag in the face of the Rus-

sian bear? Their flag, of course, is a mere idle

compliment. Let me tell you two things, Luis mio:

this morning I invited the Russians to dance to-

night, and told Padre Abella to ask all our neigh-

bors of the Mission besides; and Rafaella Sal

helped me to drape every one of those flags.

When I told her you might tear them down, she

vowed that if you did she would dance all night

with the Bostonian."

Luis lifted his shoulders and mustache to express

an attitude of contemptuous resignation, but his face

darkened, and a moment later he left the room and

strolled up the square to the grating of Rafaella Sal.

Concha well knew that the frank gray eyes of the

Bostonian--all citizens of the United States were

Bostonians in that part of the world, for only Bos-

ton skippers had the enterprise to venture so far--

were for no one but herself. But his face was

bony and freckled, and his figure less in height and

vigor than her own. He was rich and well-born,

but shy and very modest. Concha Arguello, La

Favorita of California, was for some such dashing

caballero as Don Antonio Castro of Monterey, or

Ignacio Sal, the most adventurous rider of the

north. Meanwhile he could look at her and adore

her in secret, and Dona Rafaella Sal was very kind

and danced as well as himself. He never dreamed

that he was being used as a stalking horse to keep

alive in the best match in the Californias the jealous

desire for exclusive possession that had animated

him in 1800 when he had applied through the Vice-

roy of Mexico for royal consent to his marriage

with the Favorita of her year. That was six years

ago and never a word had come from Madrid. Luis

was faithful, but men were men, and girls grew

older every day. So the wise Rafaella was alter-

nately indifferent and alluring, the object of more

admiration than a maid could always repel, yet with

wells of sentiment that only one man could dis-

cover. And the American was patient, and even

had he known, would not in the least have minded

the use she made of him. He still could look at

Concha Arguello.

William Sturgis had sailed in one of his father's

ships, now six years ago, from Boston in search of

health. The ship in a dense fog had gone on the

rocks in the straits between the Farallones and

the Bay of San Francisco. He alone, and after

long hours of struggle with the wicked currents,

not even knowing in what direction land might be,

was flung, senseless, on the shore below the Fort.

For the next month he was an invalid in the house

of the Commandante. Fortunately, his papers and

money were sewn in an oilskin belt and his father's

name was well known in California. Moreover,

there never was a more likable youth. His illness

interested all the matrons and maids of the Presidio

in his fate; when he recovered, his good dancing

and unselfishness gave him a permanent place in the

regard of the women, while his entire absence of

beauty, and his ability to hold his own in the mess

room, established his position with the men.

In due course word of his plight reached Boston,

and a ship was immediately despatched, not only to

bring the castaway home, but with the fine ward-

robe necessary to a young gentleman of his station.

But the same ship brought word of his father's

death--his mother had gone long since--and as

there were brothers enamored of the business he

hated, he decided to remain in the country that had

won his heart and given him health. For some time

there was demur on the part of the authorities;

Spain welcomed no foreigners in her colonies.

But Sturgis swore a mighty oath that he would

never despatch a letter uninspected by the Com-

mandante, that he would make no excursions into

the heart of the country, that he would neither en-

gage in traffic nor interfere in politics. Then hav-

ing already won the affections of the Governor, he

was permitted to remain, even to rent an acre of

land from the Church in the sheltered Mission val-

ley, and build himself a house. Here he raised

fruit and vegetables for his own hospitable table,

chickens and game cocks. Books and other lux-

uries came by every ship from Boston; until for a

long interval ships came no more. One of these

days, when the power of the priests had abated, and

the jealousy which would keep all Californians land-

less but themselves was counterbalanced by a great

increase in population, he meant to have a ranch

down in the south where the sun shone all the year

round and he could ride half the day with his

vaqueros after the finest cattle in the country. He

should never marry because he could not marry

Concha Arguello, but he could think of her, see her

sometimes; and in a land where a man was neither

frozen in winter nor grilled in summer, where life

could be led in the open, and the tendency was to

idle and dream, domestic happiness called on a

feebler note than in less equable climes. In his

heart he was desperately jealous of Concha's fav-

ored cavaliers, but it was a jealousy without hatred,

and his kind, earnest, often humorous eyes, were

always assuring his lady of an imperishable desire

to serve her without reward. Of course Concha

treated him with as little consideration as so humble

a swain deserved; but in her heart she liked him bet-

ter than either Castro or Sal, for he talked to her

of something besides rodeos and balls, racing and

cock-fights; he had taught her English and lent her

many books. Moreover, he neither sighed nor lan-

guished, nor ever had sung at her grating. But

she regarded him merely as an intelligence, a well

of refreshment in her stagnant life, never as a man.

"Rose," she said, as she caught her hair into a

high golden comb that had been worn in Spain by

many a beauty of the house of Moraga, and spiked

the knot with two long pins globed at the end with

gold, while the maid fastened her slippers and

smoothed the pink silk stockings over the thin in-

step above; "what is a lover like? Is it like meet-

ing one of the saints of heaven?"

"No, senorita."

"Like what, then?"

"Like--like nothing but himself, senorita. You

would not have him otherwise."

"Oh, stupid one! Hast thou no imagination?

Fancy any man being well enough as he is! For

instance, there is Don Antonio, who is so hand-

some and fiery, and Don Ignacio, who can sing and

dance and ride as no one else in all the Californias,

and Don Weeliam Sturgis, who is very clever and

true. If I could roll them into one--a tamale of

corn and chicken and peppers--there would be a

man almost to my liking. But even then--not

quite. And one man--what nonsense! I have too

much color to-night, Rosa."

"No, senorita, you have never been so beautiful.

When the lover comes and you love him, senorita,

you will think him greater than our natural king

and lord, and all other men poor Indians."

"But how shall I know?"

"Your heart will tell you, senorita."

"My heart? My father and my mother will

choose for me a husband whom I shall love as all

other women love their husbands--just enough and

no more. Then--I suppose--I shall never know?"

"Would you marry at your parents' bidding, like

a child, senorita? I do not think you would."

Concha looked at the girl in astonishment, but

with a greater astonishment she suddenly realized

that she would not. Even her little fingers stiffened

in a rush of personality, of passionate resentment

against the shackles bound by the ages about the

feminine ego. Her individuality, long budding,

burst into flower; her eyes gazed far beyond her

radiant image in the mirror with a look of terrified

but dauntless insight; then moved slowly to the girl

that sat weeping on the floor.

"I know not what thy sin was," she said musingly.

"But I have heard it said thou didst obey no law

but thine own will--and his. Why should the pun-

ishment have been so terrible? Thou hast sworn to

me thou didst not help to murder the woman."

"I cannot tell you, senorita. You will never

know anything of sin; but of love--yes, I think you

will know that, and before very long."

"Before long?" Concha's lips parted and the ner-

vous color she had deprecated left her cheeks.

"What meanest thou, Rosa?" Her voice rose

hoarsely.

And the Indian, with the insight of her own

tragedy, replied: "The Russian has come for you,

senorita. You will go with him, far away to the

north and the snow. These others never could win

your heart; but this man who looks like a king, and

as if many women had loved him, and he had cared

little-- Oh, senorita, Carlos was only a poor In-

dian, but the men that women love all have some-

thing that makes them brothers--the Great Rus-

sian and the poor man who goes mad for a moment

and kills one woman that he may live with another

forever. The great Russian is free, but he is the

same, senorita--he too could kill for love, and such

are the men we women die for!"

Concha, ambitious and romantic, eager for the

brilliant life the advent of this Russian nobleman

seemed to herald, had assured Santiago that he

would love her; but they had been the empty words

of the Favorita of many conquests; of love and pas-

sion she had known, suspected, nothing. As she

watched Rosa, huddled and convulsed, little pointed

arrows flew into her brain. Girls in those old Span-

ish days went to the altar with a serene faith in

miracles, and it was a matter of honor among those

that preceded their friends to abet the parents in a

custom which assuredly did not err on the side of

ugliness. Concha had a larger vocabulary than

other Californians of her sex, for she had read

many books, and if never a novel, she knew some-

thing of poetry. Sturgis had filled the sala with

the sonorous roll of his favorite masters and it had

pleased her ear; but the language of passion had

been so many beautiful words, neither vibrating nor

lingering in her consciousness. But the rude expres-

sion of the miserable woman at her feet, whose

sobs grew more uncontrollable every moment, made

it forever impossible that she should prattle again

as she had to Santiago and Rezanov in the last day

and night; and although she felt as if straining her

eyes in the dark, her cheeks burned once more, and

she rose uneasily and walked to the window.

She returned in a moment and stood over Rosa,

but her voice when she spoke had lost its hoarseness

and was cold and irritated.

"Control thyself," she said. "And go and bathe

thine eyes. Wouldst look like a tomato when it is

time to pass the dulces and wines? And think no

more of thy lover until he can come out of prison

and marry thee." She drew herself away as the

woman attempted to clutch her skirts. "Go," she

said. "The musicians are tuning."

"The sash, Excellency?" Jon longed to see his

master in full regalia once more, and after all, was

not this an embassy of a sort? But Rezanov, who

already regarded his reflection with some humor,

shook his head.

"I'll go as far as decency permits, for no one is

so impressed by external magnificence as the Span-

iard. But full dress uniform and orders are enough;

an ambassador's sash and they might suspect I took

them for the children they are. Children are not

always fools. My stock is too tight. Remember

that I am to dance, and am too tall for most wom-

men's pretty little ears. And I doubt if an ear is

less thirsty for being so provocatively screened."

Jon, a "prince" whose family had fallen upon evil

days long since, but whose thin, clever fingers were

no mean inheritance, unwound and readjusted the

folds of soft batiste, that most becoming neck ves-

ture man has ever worn. He fain would have

pressed the matter of the sash, but Rezanov, most

indulgent of masters to this devoted servant, was

never patient of insistence. Jon also regretted the

powdered wig and queue, which he privately thought

more befitting a fine gentleman than his own hair,

even though the latter were thick and bright. He

said tentatively:

"I notice these Californians still wear the hair

long; and with their gay ribbons and showy hats

look much better no doubt than if they followed a

fashion of which it would seem they had not heard

--and perhaps do not admire. I ventured to pack

two of your excellency's wigs when we were leav-

ing St. Petersburg--"

"Good heavens, no!" cried Rezanov, rising to his

feet and casting a last impatient glance at the mir-

ror. "When a man has escaped from a furnace

does he run back of his own accord? My brain

would cook under a wig in this climate, and I need

all my wits--for more reasons than one." And he

went up on deck.

There, while awaiting his horses and escort, he

had another glimpse of the happy Arcadian life of

the Californians. Over the sand hills through

which he had floundered twice that day rode young

men in gala attire, a maiden, her attire as brilliant

as the sunset along the western summits, on the

saddle before them. These saddles were heavy with

silver, the blanket beneath was embroidered with

both silver and gold. Gay light laughter floated out

on the cool evening breeze to the little ship in the

harbor.

"It has been a good day," thought Rezanov, low-

ering his glass. "It is like her to arrange so charm-

ing a finale."

When he arrived at the Presidio the guitars were

tinkling and the sala was full of eager and somber

faces. The Californians had come early, deter-

mined to witness the arrival of the Russians. Very

pretty most of the girls were, and by no means a

bevy of brunettes. There was hair of every shade

of brown, looped over the ears, drawn high and

confined by the high comb and the long pins; and

Rafaella Sal, with her red hair and gray eyes, was

still celebrated as a beauty, although no longer in

her first youth--she was twenty-two, and should

have been a matron and mother long since! But

she looked very handsome and coquettish in her

daring yellow frock that no other red head would

have dared to wear, and she displayed three ropes

of Baja California pearls; one strand being the com-

mon possession. The matrons, young and old, wore

heavy satins or brocades, either red or yellow, but

the maids were in flowered silks, sometimes with

coquettish little jacket, generally with long pointed

bodice and full flowing skirt. Concha's frock was

made in this fashion, but quite different otherwise;

an aunt in the City of Mexico being mindful at

whiles of the cravings of relatives in exile. It was

of a soft shimmering white stuff covered with gold

spangles and cut to reveal her young neck and arms.

She stood at the head of the room with her mother

as Rezanov entered, and he noticed for the first

time how tall she was. She held herself proudly;

mischievous twinkle, nor child-like trust, nor flashing

coquetry possessed her eyes; these, even more star-

like than usual, nevertheless looked upon her guests

with a dignified composure. Her lips, her skin,

were luminous. In this well-cut evening gown he

saw that her figure was superb; and that she could

command stateliness as well as vivacity moved her

toward a pedestal in his regard that had been occu-

pied by few and never for long.

Rezanov, in his splendid uniform and blazing

orders, filled the sala with his presence as he walked

past the rows of bright critical eyes toward his

hostesses. The young lips of the maids parted with

delight and the men frowned. For the first time

William Sturgis felt the sickness of jealousy instead

of its not unagreeable pain. Davidov and Khostov,

both handsome and well-bred young men, were also

in full naval uniform, and by no means ignored;

while Langsdorff, in the severe black of the scholar,

was an admirable foil.

Rezanov, wondering at the subtle change in

Concha, bowed ceremoniously and murmured:

"You will give me the first dance, senorita?"

"Certainly, Excellency. Are you not the guest

of honor?"

She motioned to the Indian musicians, fiddles

and guitars fairly leaped to position, and in a mo-

ment Rezanov enjoyed the novel delusion of en-

circling a girl's floating wraith.

"We can waltz, you see! Are you not sur-

prised?"

"It is but one accomplishment the more. I feared

a preference for your native dances, but ventured

to hope you would teach me."

"They are easy to learn. You will watch us

dance the contra-danza after this."

"With whom do you dance it?"

Her black eyelashes were very thick; he barely

caught the glance she shot him.

"The Russian bear growls," she said lightly.

"Did you expect to dance every dance with me?"

"I came for no other purpose."

"You would have several duels to fight to-mor-

row."

"I have no objection."

"You have fought others, then?" Her voice was

the softer with the effort to turn its edge.

"No more than most men, I suppose. May I ask

how many have been fought for you?"

"My memory is no better than yours. Why

should I burden it with trifles?"

"True. It doubtless is charged with matters far

more serious than the desires of mere men. Tell

me, senorita, what is your dearest wish?" He had

bent his head and fixed his powerful gaze on her

stubborn lashes. As he hoped, she raised startled

eyes in which an angry glitter dawned.

"My dearest wish? If I had one should I tell

you? Why do you ask me such a question?"

"Because I lit a candle at the Mission to-day that

you might realize it," he answered, smiling.

To his surprise he saw a flash of terror in her

eyes before she dropped them, and felt her shiver.

But she answered coldly:

"You have wasted a candle, senor. I have never

had a wish that was not instantly gratified. But I

thank you for the kind thought. Will you finish

this waltz with my friend, and the fiancee of Luis,

Rafaella Sal? She has quarrelled with Luis, I see;

Don Weeliam is dancing with Carolina Xime'no, and

she cares to waltz with no one else. Pardon me if

I say that no one has ever waltzed as well as your

excellency, and I must not be selfish."

"I will release you if you are tired, but otherwise

I shall do myself the honor to waltz with your

friend later."

"I must look after my other guests," she said

coldly; and he was led with what grace he could

summon to the fair but sulky Rafaella.

"How am I to help flirting with that girl?" he

thought as he mechanically guided another light and

graceful partner through the crowded room. "If

she were one girl I might resist. But since eleven

o'clock yesterday morning she has been three. And

if she was twenty yesterday, twelve this morning,

she is twenty-eight to-night, and this might be a

court ball in Madrid. I shall leave the day after I

bring the Governor to terms."

He sat beside Dona Ignacia during the contra-

danza and found the scene remarkably brilliant and

animated considering the primitive conditions. In

addition to the bright flags on the wall and the vivid

colors of the women, the officers of the Presidio and

forts wore full dress uniform, either white coats

with red velvet vest, red pantaloons and sash, or

white trousers and scarlet coat and waistcoat faced

with green. The young men from the Mission wore

small clothes of a black silk, fastened at the knee

with silver buckles, and white silk stockings; two

gentlemen from Monterey wore the evening costume

of the capital, dove-colored small clothes, with white

silk waistcoat and stockings, and much fine lawn

and lace. The room was well lighted by many

wicks stuck in lumps of tallow. The Indian musi-

cians, soldiers recruited from a superior tribe in

the Santa Clara valley, were clad almost entirely

in scarlet, and danced sometimes as they played;

and Indian girls, in short red skirts and snow-white

smocks open at the throat, their long hair decorated

with flowers and ribbons, already passed about wine

and dulces. The windows were open. The sweet

night air blew in.

The contra-danza was not unlike the square

dances of England except that it was far more

graceful, and the men rivalled the women in their

supple glidings and bendings, doublings and sway-

ings. Concha danced with Ignacio Sal, Rafaella

with William Sturgis; their pliant grace, as facile

as grain rippling before the wind, would have put the

best ballet in Europe to the blush. Concha's skirts

swept Rezanov's feet, her little slippers twinkled

before his admiring eyes, and he lost no sinuous

turn or undulation of her beautiful figure; but she

never vouchsafed him a glance.

When the dance finished his host introduced him

to the prettiest of the girls and he paid them as many

compliments as their heads would stand. He even

took some trouble to talk to them, if only to fathom

the sources of their unlikeness to Concha Arguello.

He concluded that the gulf that separated her from

these charming, vivacious, shallow young girls was

not dug by education alone. Individualities were

rare enough in Europe; out here, in earthly, but

sparsely settled paradises, they must be rarer still;

but that one had wandered into the lovely shell of

Concha Arguello he no longer doubted. The fact

that it had developed haphazardly, with little or no

help from her sentience, and was still fluid and un-

certain, but multiplied her in interest and charm.

The women to whom he was accustomed knew

themselves, consequently were no riddle to a man of

his experience, but here he had an odd sense of hav-

ing entered into a compact in the dark with a girl

who might one day symbolize some high and im-

passioned ideal he had cherished in the days before

ideals had been cast aside with the negative virtues

that bred them.

As he coolly studied the good looks of the young

caballeros and the plain intellectual face and slight

little figure of the Bostonian, noted the utter in-

difference with which they were treated by the

Favorita of Presidio and Mission, he felt a sudden

rush of arrogance, a youthful tingling of nerves,

the same prophetic sense of imminent happiness and

power that his first contact with the light electrical

air and the beauty of the country had induced.

After all, he was but forty-two. Life on the whole

had been very kind to him. And, although he did

not realize it as yet, his frame, blighted by the rigors

of the past three years, was already sensible to a

renewal of juice and sap. He admitted that he was

more interested than he had been for many years,

and that if he was not in love, he tingled with a

very natural masculine desire for an adventure with

a pretty girl.

But he was by no means a weak man, and his

mind counted the cost even while his imagination

hummed. He had almost decided to bid Dona

Ignacia an abrupt good-night, pleading fatigue,

which his pallor indorsed, when the door of the din-

ing-room was thrown open to the liveliest of

fiddling, and a white hand with a singular sugges-

tion of tenacity both in appearance and clasp took

possession of his arm.

"My mother has gone to Gertrudis Rudisinda,

who is crying," said Concha. "It is my pleasure to

lead your excellency in to supper."

They sat side by side at the head of the long

table almost covered by the massive service of sil-

ver and loaded with evidences of Dona Ignacia's

generosity and skill; chickens in red rice and gravy,

oysters, tamales, dulces, pastries, fruits and pleasant

drinks. Luis, with Rafaella Sal dimpling and

sparkling at his side, and now quite resigned to the

semi-official nature of the ball, rose and drank the

health of the distinguished guest in long and flow-

ery praises. Rezanov responded in briefer but no

less felicitous vein, and concluded by remarking

that the only rift in the lute of his present enchant-

ing experience was the fear that whereas he had

nearly died of starvation several times during the

past three years, he was now threatened with a far

more ignominious end, so delicious and irresistible

were the temptations that beset the wayfarer in this

most hospitable land. Both speeches were gaily ap-

plauded, the conversation became animated and gen-

eral, and Concha dropped her voice to the attentive

ear beside her.

"You were very successful to-day at the Mission,

Excellency."

"May I ask how you know?"

"I never saw anything so serenely--arrogantly,

perhaps would be a truer description--triumphant

as your bearing when you walked down our humble

sala to-night. You looked like Caesar returned from

Gaul; but I suppose that all great conquests are

merely the sum of many small ones."

"I do not regard the friendship of so shrewd a

man as Father Abella a trifling conquest. And ac-

cording to yourself, dear senorita, it is essential to

the success of a mission upon which many lives and

my own honor depend."

"Is it really so serious?" she asked with a faint

sneer.

He drew himself up stiffly and his light eyes

glowed with anger. "It is a subject I never should

have thought of introducing at a festivity like this,"

he said suavely. "May I be permitted to compli-

ment you, senorita, upon your marvellous grace in

the contra-danza? It quite turned my head, and I

am delighted to hear that you will dance alone after

supper."

Her face had flushed hotly. She dropped her

eyes and her voice trembled as she replied: "You

humiliate me, senor, and I deserve it. I--my poor

Rosa told me something of her great tragedy while

dressing me, and for the moment other things

seemed unimportant. What is hunger and court

favor beside a broken heart and a desolate life?

But that of course is the attitude of an ignorant

girl." She raised her eyes. They were soft, and

her voice was softer. "I beg that you will forgive

me, senor. And be sure that I take an even deeper

interest in your great mission than yesterday. I

have thought much about it, and while I have told

my mother nothing, I have expressed certain peev-

ish hopes that a ship would not come all the way

from Sitka without taking a hint more than one

Boston skipper must have given, and brought us

many things we need. She is quite excited over

the prospect of a new shawl for herself, and of send-

ing several as presents to the south; besides many

other things: cotton, shoes, kitchen utensils. Have

you any of these things, Excellency?"

Rezanov stared at her face, barely tinted with

color, dully wondering why it should be so different

from the one roguish, pathetically innocent, that

had haunted him all day. He asked abruptly:

"Which is the friend whose little ones you envy?

You have made me wish to see them and her?"

"That is Elena--beside Gervasio." She indicated

a young woman with soft, patient, brown eyes, the

dignity of her race and the sweetness of young

motherhood, who would have looked little older

than herself had it not been for an already shape-

less figure. "I can take you to-morrow to see them

if you wish."

She had cast down her eyes and her face was

white. Still he groped on.

"Pardon me if I say that I am surprised your

parents should permit such a woman as this Rosa

to attend you. Why should your happy life be dis-

turbed by the lamentations of an abandoned crea-

ture--who can do you no good, and possibly much

harm?"

Still Concha did not raise her eyes. "I do not

think poor Rosa would do anyone harm. But per-

haps it were as well she went elsewhere. We have

had her long enough. I have taken a dislike to her.

I reproach myself bitterly, but I cannot help it. I

should like never to see her again."

"What has she told you?" Concha glanced up

swiftly. His eyes were blazing. She felt quite cer-

tain that he rolled a Russian oath under his tongue,

and she made a slight involuntary motion toward

him, her lips trembling apart.

"Nothing," she murmured. "I do not know--I

do not know. But I no longer wish her near me.

She--life is very strange and terrible, senor. You

know it well--I, so little."

Rezanov felt his breath short and his hands cold.

For a moment he made no reply. Then he smiled

charmingly and said in the conventional tone that

was ever at his command: "Of course you know

little of life in this Arcadia. One who hopes to be

numbered among the best of your friends prays

that you never may. Yes, senorita, life is strange

--strangely commonplace and disillusionizing--but

sometimes picturesque. Believe me when I say that

nothing stranger has ever befallen me than to find

out here on the lonely brink of a continent nearly

twenty thousand versts from Europe, a girl of six-

teen with the grand manner, and an intellect with-

out the detestable idiosyncrasies of the fashionable

bas bleus I have hitherto had the misfortune to en-

counter."

She was tapping the table slowly with her fork,

and he noted that her soft, childish mouth was set.

"No doubt you are quite right to put me off," she

said finally, and in a voice as even as his own. "And

my intellect would do me little good if it did not

teach me to ignore mysteries I can never hope to

fathom. There is no such thing as life in your sense

in this forgotten corner of the world, nor ever will

be in my time. If you come back and visit us

twenty years hence you will find me fat and worn

like Elena, and busy every minute like my mother

--unless, indeed, I marry Don Weeliam Sturgis

and become a great lady in Boston. It would not be

so mean a fate."

Rezanov darted a look of angry contempt at the

pale young man who was eating little and miser-

ably watching the handsome pair at the head of the

table. "You will not marry him!" he said briefly.

"I could do far worse." Concha's lashes framed

an adorable glance that sent the blood to the hair

of the sensitive youth. "You have no idea how

clever and good he is. And--Madre de Dios!--

I am so tired of California."

"But you are a part of it--the very symbol of its

future, it seems to me. I wish I had a sculptor in

my suite. I should make him model you, label the

statue 'California,' and erect it on the peak of that

big island out there."

"That is very poetical, but after all, you are only

saying that I am a pretty savage with an education

that will be more common in the next generation.

It is little consolation for an existence where the

most exciting event in a lifetime is the arrival of a

foreign ship or the inauguration of a governor."

And once more she smiled at Sturgis. He raised

his glass impulsively, and she hers in gay response. A

moment later she gave the signal to leave the table.

Rezanov followed her back to the sala chewing the

cud of many reflections.

Concha had eaten no supper. As she entered the

sala she clapped her hands, the guests ranged

themselves against the wall, the musicians, livelier

than ever, flew to their instruments; with the drift-

ing, swaying movement she could assume at will,

she went slowly, absently, to the middle of the room.

Then she let her head drop backward, as if with

the weight of her hair, and Rezanov, vaguely angry,

expected one of those appeals to the senses for

which Spanish women of another sort were

notorious. But Concha, after tapping the floor

alternately with the points and the wooden heels of

her slippers, for a few moments, suddenly made

an imperious gesture to Ignacio Sal. He sprang to

her side, took her hand, and once more there was

the same monotonous tapping of toes and heels.

Then they whirled apart, bent their lithe backs until

their brows almost touched the floor in a salute of

mock admiration, and danced to and from each

other, coquetry in the very tilt of her eyebrows, the

bare semblance of masculine indulgence on his eager,

passionate face. Suddenly to the surprise of all, she

snapped her fingers directly under his nose, waved

her hand, turned her back, and made a peremptory

gesture to that other enamoured young swain, Cap-

tain Antonio Castro of Monterey. Don Ignacio,

surprised and discomfited, retired amidst the jeers

of his friends, and Concha, with her most vivacious

and gracious manner, met Castro half way, and, tak-

ing his hand, danced up and down the sala, slowly

and with many improvisations. Then, as they re-

turned to the center of the room and stepped lightly

apart before joining in a gay whirl, she snapped her

fingers under HIS nose, made a gesture of dismissal

over her shoulder, and fluttered an uplifted hand

in the direction of Sturgis. Again there was a de-

lighted laughter, again a discomforted knight and

a triumphant partner.

"Concha always gives us something we do not

expect," said Santiago to Rezanov, whose eyes were

twinkling. "The other girls dance El Son and La

Jota very gracefully--yes. But Conchita dances

with her head, and the musicians and the partner,

when she takes one, have all they can do to follow.

She will choose you, next, senor."

Rezanov turned cold, and measured the distance

to the door. "I hope not!" he said. "I should hate

nothing so much as to make an exhibition of myself.

The dances I know--that is all very well--but to

improvise--for the love of heaven help me to get

out!"

But Santiago, who was watching his sister in-

tently, replied: "Wait a moment, Excellency. I do

not think she will choose another. I know by her

feet that she intends to dance El Son--in her own

way, of course--after all."

Concha circled about the room twice with Sturgis,

lifted him to the seventh heaven of expectancy, dis-

missed him as abruptly as the others. Lifting her

chin with an expression of supreme disdain for all

his sex, she stood a moment, swaying, her arms

hanging at her sides.

"I am glad she will not dance with Weeliam,"

muttered Santiago. "I love him--yes; but the

Spanish dance is not for the Bostonian."

Rezanov awaited her performance with an in-

terest that caused him some cynical amusement.

But in a moment he had surrendered to her once

more as a creature of inexhaustible surprise. The

musicians, watching her, began to play more slowly.

Concha, her arms still supine, her head lifted, her

eyes half veiled, began to dance in a stately and

measured fashion that seemed to powder her hair

and dissolve the partitions before an endless vista

of rooms. Rezanov had a sudden vision of the Hall

of the Ambassadors in the royal palace at Madrid,

where, when a young man on his travels, he had

attended a state ball. There he had seen the most

dignified beauties of Europe dance at the most for-

mal of its courts. But Concha created the illusion

of having stepped down from the throne in some

bygone fashion to dance alone for her subjects and

adorers.

She raised her arms, barely budding at the top,

with a gesture that was not only the poetry of

grace but as though bestowing some royal favor;

when she curved and swayed her body, again it was

with the lofty sweetness of one too highly placed

to descend to mere seductiveness. She glided up and

down, back and forth, with a dreamy revealing mo-

tion as if assisting to shape some vague impas-

sioned image in the brain of a poet. She lifted her

little feet in a manner that transformed boards into

clouds. There were moments when she seemed

actually to soar.

"She is a little genius!" thought Rezanov en-

thusiastically. "Anything could be made of a

woman like that."

It was not her dancing alone that interested him,

but its effect on her audience. The young men had

begun with audible expressions of approval. They

were now shouting and stamping and clapping.

Suddenly, as once more she danced back to the very

center of the room, her bosom heaving, her eyes

like stars, her red lips parted, Don Ignacio, long

since recovered from his spleen, invaded his pocket

and flung a handful of silver at her feet. It was a

signal. Gold and silver coins, chains, watches,

jewels, bounced over the floor, to be laughingly

ignored. Rezanov looked on in amazement, won-

dering if this were a part of the performance and

if he should follow suit. But after a glance at the

faces of the young men, lost to everything but their

passionate admiration for the unique and beautiful

dancing of their Favorita, and when Sturgis, after

wildly searching in his pockets, tore a large pearl

from the lace of his stock, he doubted no longer--

nor hesitated. Fastened by a blue ribbon to the

fourth button of his closely fitting coat was a golden

key, the outward symbol of his rank at court. He

detached it, then made a sudden gesture that caught

her attention. For a moment their eyes met. He

tossed her the bauble, and mechanically she lifted

her hand and caught it. Then she laughed con-

fusedly, shrugged her shoulders, bowed graciously

to her audience, and signalled to the musicians to

stop. Rezanov was at her side in a moment.

"You must be tired," he said. "I insist that you

come out on the veranda and rest."

"Very well," she said indifferently; "it is quite

time we all went out to the air. Santiago mio, wilt

thou bring my reboso--the white one?"

Santiago, more flushed than his sister at her

triumphs, fetched the long strip of silk, and Rez-

anov detached her from her eager court and led her

without. Elena Castro followed closely, yet with

a cavalier of her own that her friend might talk

freely with this interesting stranger. The night air

was cool and stimulating. The hills were black

under the sparks of white fire in the high arch of the

California sky. In the Presidio square were long

blue shadows that might have been reflections of

the smoldering blue beyond the stars. Rezanov

and Concha sat on the railing at the end of the

"corridor."

"It is a custom--all that very material admira-

tion?" he asked.

"A very old one, but not too often followed.

Otherwise we should not prize it. But when some

Favorita outdoes herself then she receives the

greatest reward that man can think of--gold and

silver jewels. We do not dare to return the tributes

in common fashion, but they have a way of appear-

ing where they belong as soon as their owners are

supposed to have forgotten the incident. As you

are not a Californian, senor, I take the liberty of re-

turning this without any foolish subterfuge." She

handed him his contribution. "I thank you all the

same. It was a spontaneous act, and I am very

proud."

He accepted the key awkwardly, not daring to

press it upon her, with the obvious banalities. But

he felt a sudden desire to give her something, and,

nothing better offering, he gathered half a dozen

roses and laid them on her lap.

"I was disappointed that you did not wear your

roses to-night," he said. "I associate them with you

in my thoughts. Will you put one in your hair?"

She found a place for two and thrust another in

the neck of her gown. The rest she held closely in

her hands. Then he noticed that she was very

white, and again she shivered.

"You are cold and tired," he murmured, his eyes

melting to hers. "It was entrancing, but I hope

never to see you give so much of yourself to others

again." His hand in arranging the reboso touched

hers. It lingered, and she stared up at him, help-

lessly, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She reminded

him of a rabbit caught in a trap, and he had a sud-

den and violent revulsion of feeling. He rose and

offered his arm. "I should be a brute if I kept you

talking out here. Slip off and go to bed. I shall

start the guests, for I am very tired myself."

He did not talk with her again for several days. He

called in state, but remained only a few moments.

His officers went to several impromptu dances at

the Presidio and Mission, but he pleaded fatigue,

natural in the damaged state of his constitution,

and left the ship only for a gallop over the hills or

down the coast with Luis Arguello.

But he had never felt better. At the end of a

week his pallor had gone, his skin was tanned and

fresh. Even his wretched crew were different men.

They were given much leave on shore, and already

might be seen escorting the serving-women over

the hills in the late afternoon. Rezanov gave them

a long rope, although he knew they must be ger-

minating with a mutinous distaste of the Russian

north; he kept strict watch over them and would

have given a deserter his due without an instant's

pause.

The estafette that had gone with Luis' letters to

Monterey had taken one from Rezanov as well, ask-

ing permission to pay a visit of ceremony to the

Governor. Five days later the plenipotentiary re-

ceived a polite welcome to California, and protest

against another long journey; the humble servant

of the King of Spain would himself go to San

Francisco at once and offer the hospitality of Cali-

fornia to the illustrious representative of the Em-

peror of all the Russias.

Rezanov was not only annoyed at the Governor's

evident determination that he should see as little

as possible of the insignificant military equipment of

California, but at the delay to his own plans for ex-

ploration. He knew that Luis would dare take him

upon no expedition into the heart of the country

without the consent of the Governor, and he began

to doubt this consent would be given. But he was

determined to see the bay, at least, and he no sooner

read the diplomatic epistle from Monterey than he

decided to accomplish this part of his purpose before

the arrival of the Governor or Don Jose. He knew

the material he had to deal with at the moment,

but nothing of that already, no doubt, on its way to

the north.

Early in the morning after the return of the

courier he wrote an informal note to Dona Ignacia,

asking her to give him the honor of entertaining

her for a day on the Juno, and to bring all the young

people she would. As the weather was so fine, he

hoped to see them in time for chocolate at nine

o'clock. He knew that Luis, who was pressingly

included in the invitation, had left at daybreak for

his father's rancho, some thirty miles to the south.

There was a flutter at the Presidio when the invi-

tation of the Chamberlain was made known. The

compliment was not unexpected, but there had been

a lively speculation as to what form the Russian's

return of hospitality would take. Concha, whose

tides had thundered and ebbed many times since the

night of her party, submerging the happy inconse-

quence of her sixteen years, but leaving her un-

shaken spirit with wide clarified vision, felt young

to-day from sheer reaction. She would listen to no

protest from her prudent mother and smothered her

with kisses and a torrent of words.

"But, my Conchita," gasped Dona Ignacia, "I

have much to do. Thy father and his excellency

come in two days. And perhaps they would not

approve--before they are here!--to go on the for-

eign ship! If Luis were not gone! Ay yi! Ay yi!"

"We go, we go, madre mia! And his excellency

will give you a shawl. I feel it! I know it! And

if we go now we disobey no law. Have they ever

said we could not visit a foreign ship when they

were not here? We are light-headed, irresponsible

women. And if they should not let us go! If the

Governor and the Russian should disagree! Now

we have the opportunity for such a day as we never

have had before. We should be imbeciles. We go,

madre mia, we go!"

So it proved. At a few minutes before nine the

Senora Arguello, clad in her best black skirt and

jacket, a red shawl embroidered with yellow draped

over her bust with unconquerable grace, and a black

reboso folded about her fine proud head, rode down

to the beach with Ana Paula on the aquera behind

and Gertrudis Rudisinda on her arm. The boys

howled on the corridor, but the good senora felt

she could not too liberally construe the kind invita-

tion of a chamberlain of the Russian Court.

Behind her rode Concha, in white with a pink

reboso; Rafaella Sal, Carolina Xime'no, Herminia

Lopez, Delfina Rivera, the only other girls at the

Presidio old enough to grace such an occasion;

Sturgis, who happened to have spent the night at

the Presidio, Gervasio, Santiago and Lieutenant

Rivera. Castro had returned to Monterey, Sal was

officer of the day, and the other young men had

sulkily declined to be the guests of a man who looked

as haughty as the Tsar himself and betrayed no dis-

position to recognize in Spain the first nation of

Europe. But no one missed them. The girls, in

their flowered muslins and bright rebosos, the men

in gay serapes and embroidered botas, looked a

fine mass of color as they galloped down to the

beach and laughed and chattered as youth must on

so glorious a morning. Even Sturgis, always care-

ful to be as nearly one with these people as his dif-

ferent appearance and temperament would permit,

wore clothes of green linen, a ruffled shirt, deer-skin

botas and sombrero.

Three of the ship's canoes awaited the guests, and

as not one of the women had ever set foot in a boat,

there was a chorus of shrieks. Dona Ignacia mur-

mured an audible prayer, and clutched Gertrudis

Rudisinda to her breast.

"Madre de Dios! The water! I cannot!" she

muttered. But Santiago took her firmly by one

elbow, Sturgis by the other, Davidov caught up the

children with a reassuring laugh, and in a moment

she was trembling in the middle of the canoe. Con-

cha had already leaped into the second and waved a

careless little salutation to the Juno. Her eyes

sparkled. Her nostrils fluttered. She felt indif-

ferent to everything but the certain pleasure of the

day. Rezanov was sure to be charming. What

mattered the morrow, and possible nights of doubt,

despair, hatred of life and wondering self-contempt?

Rezanov awaited the canoes in the prow of the

ship. He wore undress uniform and a cap instead

of the cocked hat of ceremony which had excited

their awe. He too tingled with a sense of youthful

gaiety and adventure. As he helped his guests up

the side of the vessel and listened to the delightful

laughter of the girls, saw the dancing eyes of even

the haughty and reserved Santiago, he also dismissed

the morrow from his thoughts.

As Dona Ignacia was hauled to the deck, uttering

embarrassed apologies for bringing the two little

girls, Rezanov protested that he adored children,

patted their heads and told off a young sailor to

amuse them.

Four tables on the deck were set with coffee,

chocolate, Russian tea, and strange sweets that the

cook had fashioned from ingredients to which his

skilful fingers had long been strangers.

Dona Ignacia sat beside the host, and when she

had tried both the tea and the coffee and had de-

manded the recipe of the sweets, he said casually:

"After breakfast I shall ask you to go down to the

cabin for a few moments. I bought the cargo with

the Juno, and find there are several articles which I

shall beg as a great favor to present to my kindest

hostesses and the young girls she has been good

enough to bring to my ship. Shawls and ells of

cotton and all that sort of thing are of no use to a

bachelor, and I hope you will rid me of some of

them."

Dona Ignacia lost all interest in the breakfast,

and presently, murmuring an excuse, was escorted

by Langsdorff down to the cabin. When the light

repast was over, Rezanov made a signal to several

sailors who awaited commands, and they sprang to

the anchor and sails.

"We are going to have a cruise," announced the

host to his guests. "The bay is very smooth, there

is a fine breeze, we shall neither be becalmed nor

otherwise the sport of inclement waters. I know

that most of you have never seen this beautiful bay

and that you will enjoy its scenery as much as I

shall."

He moved to Concha's side and dropped his voice.

"This is for you, senorita," he said. "You want

change, variety, and I have planned to give you all

that I can in one day. I expect you to be happy."

"I shall be," she said dryly, "if only in watching

a diplomat get his way. You will see every corner

of our bay, and I shall have the delightful sensation

of doing something for which I cannot be held re-

sponsible."

He laughed. "I am quite willing that you should

understand me," he said. "But it is true that I

thought as much of you as of myself."

In a few moments the ship was under way. San-

tiago and Sturgis had gone down to the cabin to

reassure Dona Ignacia, who uttered a loud cry as

the Juno gave a preliminary lurch. Gervasio and

Rivera had opened their eyes as Rezanov abruptly

unfolded his plan, but dropped them sleepily before

the delight of the girls. After all, it was none of

their affair, and what was a bay? If they requested

him, as a point of honor, to refrain from examining

the battery of Yerba Buena with his glass, their con-

sciences would be as light as their hearts.

As Rezanov stood alone with Concha in the prow

of the ship and alternately cast softened eyes on her

intense, rapt face, and shrewd glances on the rami-

fications of the bay, he congratulated himself upon

his precipitate action and the collusion of nature.

They were sailing east, and would turn to the north

in a moment. The mountain range bent abruptly

at the entrance to the bay, encircling the immense

sheet of water in a chain of every altitude and form:

a long hard undulating line against the bright blue

sky; smooth and dimpled slopes as round as cones,

bare but for the green of their grasses; lofty ridges

tapering to hills in the curve at the north but with

blue peaks multiplying beyond. There were dense

forests in deep canyons on the mountainside, bare

and jagged heights, the graceful sweep of valleys,

promontories leaping out from the mainland like

mammoth crocodiles guarding the bay. The view

of the main waters was broken by the largest of

the islands, but far away were the hills of the east

and the soft blue peaks behind. And over all, hills

and valley and canyon and mountain, was a bright

opalescent mist. Green, pink, and other pale col-

ors gleamed as behind a thin layer of crystal.

Where the sun shone through a low white cloud

upon a distant slope there might have been a great

globe of iridescent glass illuminated within. The

water was a light, soft, filmy yet translucent blue.

Concha gazed with parted lips.

"I never knew before how wonderful it was,"

she murmured. "I have been taught to believe that

only the south is beautiful, and when we had to

come here again from Santa Barbara it was exile.

But now I am glad I was born in the north."

"I have watched the light on these hills and

islands, and what I could see of the fine lines of the

mountains ever since I came, and were there but

villas and castles, these waters would be far more

beautiful than the Lake of Como or the Bay of

Naples. But I am glad to see trees again. From

our anchorage I had but a bare glimpse of two or

three. They seem to hide from the western winds.

Are they so strong, then?"

"We have terrible winds, senor. I do not wonder

the trees crouch to the east. But I must tell you

our names." She pointed to the largest of the

islands, a great bare mass that looked as had it been,

when viscid, flung out in long folds from a central

peak, concaving here and there with its own weight.

Its southern point was on a line with a point of

mainland far to the west, and its northern, from

their vantage looking to be but a continuation of

the curve of the mainland, finished an arc of almost

perfect proportions, whose deep curve was a tumbled

mass of hills and one great mountain. "That is

Nuestra Senora de los Angeles, and it opens a triple

jaw, Luis has told me, at Point Tiburon--you will

soon see the straits between. The big rock over

there is Alcatraz, and farther away still is Yerba

Buena--that looks like a camel on its knees."

But Rezanov was examining the scene before

him. The lines of this bay within a bay were

superb, and in its wide embrace, slanting from Point

Tiburon toward an inner point two miles opposite

was another island, as steep as Alcatraz, but long

and waving of outline, with a glimpse of trees on

its crest. Rezanov, while he lost nothing of the pic-

turesque beauty surrounding him, was more deeply

interested in noting the many foundations, sheltered

and solid, for fortifications that would hold these

rich lands against the fleets of the world. Never

had he seen so many strategic advantages on one

sheet of water. The islands farther south he had

examined through his glass from the deck of the

Juno until he knew every convolution they turned

to the west.

Concha was directing his attention to the tremen-

dous angular peak rising above the tumbled hills.

"That is Mount Tamalpais--the mountain of peace.

It was named by the Indians, not by us. Sometimes

it is like a great purple shadow, and at others the

clouds fight about it like the ghosts of big sea gulls."

They were sailing past the rounded end of the

western inner point of the little bay. It was almost

detached from the bare ridge behind and half cov-

ered with oaks and willow trees. "That is Point

Sausalito. I have often looked at it through the

glass and longed for a merienda in the deep shade."

She turned to Rezanov with lips apart. "Could we

not--oh, senor!--have our dinner on shore?"

"It is only for you to select the spot. We can

sail many miles before it is time for dinner, and you

may find a place even more to your liking. I fancy

we can not go far here. It looks swampy and shal-

low. Nothing could be less romantic than to stick

in the mud."

"May I ask," said Concha demurely, "how you

dare to run the risks of an unknown sheet of water?

I have heard it said that there is more than one rock

and shoal in this bay."

"I am not as rash as I may appear," replied Reza-

nov dryly, but smiling. "In 1789 there was a chart

of this bay, taken from a Spanish MSS., published

in London; and I bought it there when I ran up

from the Nadeshda--anchored at Falmouth--three

years ago. Davidov, who, you may observe, is

steering, oblivious to the charms of even Dona Caro-

lina, knows every sounding by heart."

"Oh!" Concha shrugged her shoulders. "The

Governor, too, is very clever. It will be a drawn

battle. Perhaps I shall remain neutral after all. It

would be more amusing." The ship was turning,

and she waved her hand to the island between the

deep arc of the hilly coast. "I have heard so much

of the beauty of that island," she said, "that I have

called it La Bellissima, but I never hoped to see

anything but the back of its head, from which the

wind has blown all the hair. And now I shall. How

kind of you, senor!"

"How easily you are made happy!" he said, with

a sigh. "You look like a child."

"To-day I shall be one; and you the kind fairy

god-father," she added, with some malice. "How

old are you, senor?"

"Forty-two."

"That is twenty-six years older than myself. But

your excellency might pass for thirty-five," she

added politely. "We have all said it. And now

that you are not so pale you will soon look younger

--and even more triumphant than when you came."

"I have never felt so triumphant as on this morn-

ing, dear senorita. I had not hoped to give you

so much pleasure."

Her cheeks were as pink as her reboso, her great

black eyes were dancing. Her hands strained at

the railing. "I shall see La Bellissima! La Bellis-

sima!" she cried.

They rounded the low broken point of the island,

sailed through the racing currents between the lower

end of La Bellissima and "Our Lady of the An-

gels," more slowly past what looked to be a per-

pendicular forest. From water to crest the gulches

and converging spurs of this hillside in the sea were

a dense mass of oaks, bays, underbrush; here and

there a tall slender tree with a bark like red kid and

a flirting polished leaf, at which Concha clapped her

hands as at sight of an old friend and called "El

Madrono." It was a primeval bit of nature, but

sweet and silent and peaceful; there was no sugges-

tion either of gloom or of discourteous beast.

"We shall have our dinner here, Excellency.

There on that little beach; and afterward we shall

climb to the top. See, there are trails! The In-

dians have been here."

They stood out through the straits between Point

Tiburon and the Isle of the Angels, where the tide

ran fast. Then, for the first time, was Rezanov able

to form a definite idea of the size and shape of this

great natural harbor. To the south it extended be-

yond the peninsula in an unbroken sheet for some

forty English miles. Ten miles to the north there

was a gateway between the lower hills which Luis

had alluded to as leading into the bay of Saint

Pablo, another large body of tidewater, but inferior

in depth and beauty to the Bay of San Francisco.

The mist had dissolved. The greens were vivid

where the sun shone on island and hill. The woods

of Bellissima, the groves of Point Sausalito, the for-

ests in the northern canyons, deepened to purple like

that of the great bare sweep of Tamalpais. Only

the farther peaks remained a pale misty blue, and

were of an indescribable floating delicacy.

Concha pointed to the eastern double cone. "That

is Monte del Diablo. Once they say it spouted fire,

but that was long ago, and all our volcanoes are

dead. But perhaps not so long ago. The Indians

tell the strange story that their grandfathers remem-

bered when this bay was a valley covered with oak

trees, and the rivers of the north flowed through

and emptied into Lake Merced and a rift by the

Fort. Then came a tremendous earthquake and

rent the mountains apart where you came through

--we call it the Mouth of the Gulf of the Faral-

lones--the valley sank, the sea flowed in, only these

hills that are islands now keeping their heads above

the flood. Perhaps it is true, for Drake was close

to this bay for a long while and never saw it, and

it would have given him a better shelter than the

little harbor he found a few miles higher on the

coast. I believe it was not here. Madre de Dios,

I hope California shakes no more. She would--is

it not true, Excellency?--be the most perfect coun-

try in all the world did she not have the devil in

her."

"Are you afraid of earthquakes?" asked Rezanov,

who once more had transferred his comprehensive

gaze from battery sites to her face.

"I cross myself. It is like feeling your grave

turn over. But I fancy the poor old earth is like

the people on her; she gets tired of being good and

is all the naughtier for having been sober too long.

Don Vincente Rivera is an example; he is cold,

haughty, solemn, stern to others and himself, as

you see him; but once in a while--Madre de Dios!

The Presidio does not sleep for three nights!"

Rezanov laughed heartily, then turned abruptly

away. "Come," he said. "I had almost forgotten.

Will you ask the others to go to the cabin, while I

give orders that dinner shall be served on your

island?"

In the cabin, Concha forgot him for a few mo-

ments. Her mother, her eyes dwelling fondly upon

several shawls she hoped were intended for herself

alone, was hushing the baby to sleep in the deep

chair of his excellency. Ana Paula was playing

with an Alaskan doll she had appropriated without

ceremony. Rezanov came in when his guests were

assembled, and he had a gift for each; curious ob-

jects of Alaskan workmanship for the men, minia-

ture totem poles and fur-bordered moccasins; but

silk and cotton, linen, shawls, and find handker-

chiefs for senora and maiden.

"They are trifles," he said, in response to an en-

thusiastic chorus. "The cargo I was obliged to

take over was a very large one. You must not

protest. I shall never miss these things." And he

knew that he had sown the seeds of a rapacity simi-

lar to that implanted in the worthy bosoms of the

priests when they had paid him their promised visit.

If the Governor were insensible to diplomacy he

would have pressure brought to bear upon his offi-

cial integrity from more quarters than one.

"There are also many of the presents rejected by

the Mikado, somewhere," he added carelessly. "But

I could not find them. They must have found their

way to the bottom of the hold during one of the

storms we encountered on our way from Sitka."

He certainly looked the fairy godfather, and

quite impartial as he distributed his offerings with

a chosen word to each; his memory for little char-

acteristics was as remarkable as for names and faces.

He had taken off his cap on deck, and the breeze had

ruffled his thick fair hair, brought the blood to his

thin cheeks. The lines of his face, cut by privation

and anxiety and illness, had almost disappeared with

the renewed elasticity of the flesh, and his blue eyes

were wide open, and sparkling in sympathy with

the pleasure of his guests and the success of his own

strategy. These few insignificant Spaniards dis-

lodged, a half-dozen forts in this harbor, and the

combined navies of the world might be defied; while

a great chain of hungry settlements fattened and

prospered exceedingly on the beneficence of the most

fertile land in all the Americas.

XII

The eastern mountains looked very close from the

crest of La Bellissima and of a singular transpar-

ency and variety of hue. It was as if the white

masses of cloud sailing low overhead flung down

great splashes of color from prismatic stores stolen

from the sun. There was a vivid pale green on the

long sweep of a rounding slope, deep violet and

pale purple in dimple and hollow, red showing

through green on a tongue of land running down

from the north; and on the lower ridges and little

islands, pale and dark blue, and the most exquisite

fields of lavender. This last tint was reflected in

the water immediately below the ridge, and farther

out there were lakelets of pale green, as if the

islands, too, had the power to mirror themselves

when the sea itself was glass.

Santiago, Davidov, Carolina Xime'no, Delfina Ri-

vera, Concha and Rezanov, had climbed to the ridge.

The other young people had given out halfway up

the steep and tangled ascent and returned to the

beach. Dona Ignacia immediately after dinner had

frankly asked her host for the hospitality of his

stateroom. She and her little ones must have their

siesta, and the good lady was convinced that so

high and mighty a personage as the Russian Cham-

berlain was all the chaperon the proprieties de-

manded.

Four of the party strayed along the crest in search

of the first wild pansies. Rezanov and Concha

looked under the sloping roof of brittle leaves into

dim falling vistas, arches, arbors, caverns, a forest

in miniature with natural terraces breaking the pre-

cipitous wall of the island.

"I should like to live here," said Concha defi-

nitely.

"It would make a fine estate for summer life--or

for a honeymoon." He smiled down upon his com-

panion, who stood very tall and straight and proud

beside him. "If you conclude to marry your little

Bostonian no doubt he will buy it for you," he said.

If he had hoped to see a look of blank dismay

after his hours of devotion he was disappointed.

She made a little face.

"I do not think I could stand a desert island with

the good Weeliam. For that I should prefer one

of my own sort--Ignacio, or Fernando. Better

still, I could come here and be a hermit."

"A hermit?"

"In some ways that would suit me very well. All

human beings become tiresome, I find. I shall have

a little hut just below the crest where I can look

from my window right into the woods that are so

quiet and green and beautiful. That is a thought

that has always fascinated me. And when I walk

on the crest I can see all the beauty of mountain

and bay. What more could I want? What more

have you in your world when you know it too well,

senor?"

"Nothing; but you might tire, too, of this."

"What of it? It would be the gentle sad ennui

of peace, not of disillusion, senor. How I wish you

would tell me all you know of life!"

"God forbid. And do not remind me of ennui and

disillusions. I have forgotten both in California.

Perhaps, after all, I shall not return to St. Peters-

burg. There is a vast empire here--"

"But it is not yours or Russia's to rule, Excel-

lency," she interrupted him softly.

He did not color nor start, but met her eyes with

his deep amused glance. "I, too, can dream, seno-

rita. Of a great and wonderful kingdom--that

never will exist, perhaps. I have always been called

a dreamer, but the habit has grown since I came

to this lovely unreal land of yours."

"Have you the intention to take it from us, Ex-

cellency?" she asked quietly.

"Would you betray me if you thought I had?"

Her eyes responded for a moment to the mag-

netism of his, and then she drew herself up.

"No, senor, I could not betray a man who had

been our guest, and Spain needs no assistance from

a weak girl to hold her own against Russia."

"Well said! I kiss your hands, as they say in

Vienna. But we must sail again. I told them to be

ready at three o'clock."

Dalliance with the most alluring girl he had ever

known was all very well, but the day's work was

not yet done. When they returned to the ship he

deliberately engaged all the Spaniards in a game of

cards, ordered cigarettes and a bowl of punch for

their refreshment, and then the Juno steered south.

They sailed swiftly past Nuestra Senorita de los

Angeles and the eastern side of Alcatraz, Rezanov

sweeping every inch with his glass; more slowly

past the peninsula where it came down in a succes-

sion of rough hills almost in a straight line from

the Presidio, ascending to a high outpost of solid

rock, whence it turned abruptly to the south in a

waving line of steep irregular cliffs, harsh, barren,

intersected with gullies. Then the land became sud-

denly as flat as the sea, save for the shifting dunes:

the desert porch of the great fertile valley hidden

from the water by the waves of sand, but indicated

by its rampart of mountains. The shallow water

curved abruptly inward between the rocky mass on

the right and a gentler incline and point two miles

below. At its head was the "Battery of Yerba

Buena," facing the island from which it took its

name. Rezanov scrupulously kept his word and did

not raise his glass, but one contemptuous glance

satisfied his curiosity. His eye rolled over the steep

hills that were designed to bristle with forts, and,

as sometimes happened, when he spoke again to

Concha, whom he kept close to his side, for the other

girls bored him, his words did not express the work-

ings of his mind.

"Athens has no finer site than this," he said. "I

should like to see a white marble city on these hills,

and on that plain, when all the sand dunes are

leveled. Not in our time, perhaps! But, as I told

you, I have surrendered myself to the habit of

dreaming."

Concha shrugged her shoulders and made no re-

ply at the moment. As they sailed toward the east

before turning south again, she pointed across the

great silvery sheet of water melting into the misty

southern horizon, to a high ridge of mountains that

looked to be a continuation of the San Bruno range

behind the Mission, but slanting farther west with

the coast line.

"Those are behind our rancho, senor--Rancho El

Pilar, or Las Pulgas, as some prefer. Perhaps my

father will take you there. I hope so, for we love to

go, and may not too often; my father is very busy

here. He is one of the few that has received a large

grant of land, and it is because the clergy love him

so much they oppose his wish in nothing. Do you

see those sharp points against the sky? They are

the tops of lofty trees, like the masts of giant ships,

and with many rigid arms spiked like the pines.

You saw a few of them in the hollow below Tamal-

pais, but up on those mountains there are miles and

miles of mighty forests. No white man has ever

penetrated them, nor ever will, perhaps. We have

no use for them, and even if you made this your

kingdom, senor, I suppose not many would come

with you. Far, far down where the water stops

are the Mission of Santa Clara and the pueblo of

San Jose; but I have heard you cannot approach

within many miles of the land in a boat."

When they had sailed south for a few moments

the boat came about sharply. Concha laughed. "I

had forgotten the chart. I rather hoped you would

run on a shoal."

But as they approached the cove of Yerba Buena

again she caught his arm suddenly, unconscious of

the act, and the little dancing lights of humor in

her eyes went out. "Your white city, senor! Ay,

Dios! what a city of dreams that can never come

true!"

The soft white fog that sometimes, even at this

season, came in from the sea, was rolling over the

hills between the Battery and the Presidio, wreath-

ing about the rocky heights and slopes. It broke

into domes and cupolas, spires and minarets. Great

waves rolled over the sand dunes and beat upon

the cliffs with the phantoms clinging to its sides.

Then the sun struggled with a thousand colors.

The sun conquered, the mist shimmered into sun-

light, and once more the hills were gray and bare.

Rezanov laughed, but his eyes glowed down upon

her. "I am not sure it was there," he said. "I

have an idea your imagination and touch acted as

a sort of enchanter's wand. The others evidently

saw nothing."

"The others saw only fog and shivered. But it

was there, senor! We have had a vision. A Rus-

sian city! Ay, yi!"

But Rezanov had forgotten the city. Her reboso

had fallen and a strand of her hair blew across his

face. His lips caught it and his eyes burned. They

rounded a headland and the world looked green

and young.

"Concha!" he whispered.

Her eyes flashed and melted, she lifted her chin;

then burst into a merry ripple of laughter.

"Senor!" she said, "if you make love to me, I

shall have to compare you with many others, and I

might not like the Russian fashion. You are much

better as you are--very grand seigneur, iron-

handed and absolute, haughty and arrogant, but the

most charming person in the world, with ends to

gain, even from such humble folk as a handful of

stranded Californians. But to sigh! to languish

with the eye! to sing at the grating! I fear that

the lightest headed of the caballeros you despise

could transcend you in all."

"Very likely! I have not the least intention of

sighing or languishing or singing at gratings. But

if we were alone I certainly should kiss you."

But her eyes did not melt again at the vision.

She flushed hotly with annoyance. "I am a child

to you! Were it not that I have read a few books,

you would find me but a year older than Ana

Paula. Well! Regard me as a child and do not

attempt to flirt with me again. Shall it be so?"

"As you wish!" Rezanov looked at her half in

resentment, half wistfully, then shrugged his

shoulders, and called to Davidov to steer for the

anchorage. She was quite right; and on the whole

he was grateful to her.

XIII

"Concha," said Sturgis abruptly, "will you marry me?"

Concha, who was sitting in the shade of the rose

vines on the corridor making a dress for Gertrudis

Rudisinda, ran the needle into her finger.

"Madre de Dios!" she cried angrily. "Who

would have expected such foolish words from you?

and now I have pricked my finger and stained my

little frock. It will have to be washed before worn,

and is never so pretty after."

"I am sorry," said Sturgis humbly. "But it seems

to me that if a man wishes to marry a maid he

should ask her in a straightforward manner, with

no preliminary sighs and hints and serenades--and

all sorts of insincere stage play.

"He should at least address her parents first."

"True. I was wholly the American for the mo-

ment. May I speak to Don Jose and Dona Ignacia,

Concha?"

"How can I prevent? No, I will not coquet with

you, Weeliam. But I am angry that you have

thought of such nonsense. Such friends as we

were! We have talked and read together by the

hour, and my parents have thought no more of it

than if it had been Santiago. There! You have a

new book in your pocket. Why did you not read it

to me instead of making love? Let me see it."

"I brought it to read later if you wished, but I

came to ask you to marry me and to receive your

answer. I never expected to ask you--but--lately

--things have changed--life seems, somehow, more

real. The thought of losing you has suddenly be-

come terrible."

"You have been drinking Russian tea," said Con-

cha, stitching quietly but flashing him a glance of

amusement, not wholly without malice.

"It is true," he replied. "I suppose I never really

believed you would marry Raimundo or Ignacio or

any of the caballeros. They think and talk of noth-

ing but horse-racing, gambling, cock-fighting, love

and cigaritos. I thought of you always here, where

at least I could look at you or read with you. But

one must admit that this Russian is no ordinary

man. I hate him, yet like him more than any I have

ever met. Last night I stayed to punch with him,

and we talked English for an hour. That is to say,

he did; I could have listened to him till morning.

Langsdorff says that he has the greatest possible

command of his native tongue, but he speaks Eng-

lish well enough. I wish I could despise him, but

I do not believe I even hate him."

"Well?" demanded Concha. She kept her eyes on

her work (and the delight that rose in her breast

from her voice).

"Well?"

"Why should you hate him?"

"Do you ask me that, Concha, when he makes a

fence of himself about you, and his fine eyes--prac-

tised is nearer the mark--look at no one else?"

"But why should that cause you jealousy? He

is a man of the world, accustomed to make himself

agreeable, and I am the daughter of the Com-

mandante."

"He is more in love with you than he knows."

"Do you think so, Weeliam?" Still her voice was

innocent and even, although the color rose above

the inner commotion. "But even so, what of it?

Have not many loved me? Am I to be won by the

first stranger?"

"I do not know."

The tumult in Concha turned to wrath, and she

lifted flashing eyes to his moody face. "Do you

presume to say you are jealous because you think

I love him--a stranger I have known but a week--

who looks upon me as a child--who has never--

never thought--" But her dignity, flying to the

rescue, assumed control. Her upper lip curled, her

body stiffened for a moment, and she went on with

her stitching. "You deserve I should rap your silly

little skull with my thimble. You are no better

than Ignacio and Fernando. Such scenes as I have

had with them! They wanted to fight the Russian!

How he would laugh at them! I have threatened

they shall both be sent to San Diego if there is any

more nonsense." Then curiosity overcame her.

"You never had the least, least reason to think I

would marry you, and now, according to your own

words, you think you have less. Then why, pray,

did you address me?"

"Because I am a man, I suppose. I could not

sit tamely down and see you go."

She looked at him with a slight access of interest.

A man? Perhaps he was, after all. And his well-

bred, bony face looked very determined, albeit the

eyes were wistful. Suddenly she felt sorry for

him; and she had never experienced a pang of sym-

pathy for a suitor before. She leaned forward and

patted his hand.

"I cannot marry you, dear Weeliam," she said,

and never had he seen her so sweet and adorable,

although he noted with a pang that her mouth was

already drawn with a firmer line. "But what mat-

ter? I shall never marry at all. For many years--

forty, fifty perhaps--I shall sit here on the veranda,

and you shall read to me."

And then she shivered violently. But she set her

mouth until it was almost straight, and picked up

the little dress. "Not that, perhaps," she said

quietly in a moment. "I sometimes think I should

like to be a nun, that, after all, it is my vocation.

Not a cloistered one, for that is but a selfish life.

But to teach, to do good, to forget myself. There

are no convents in California, but I could join the

Third Order of the Franciscans, and wear the gray

habit, and be set aside by the world as one that only

lived to make it a little better. To forget oneself!

That, after all, may be the secret of happiness. I

envy none of my friends that are married. They

have the dear children, it is true. But the children

grow up and go away, and then one is fat and eats

many dulces and the siesta grows longer and longer

and the face very brown. That is life in California.

I should prefer to work and pray, and"--with a

flash of insight that made her drop her work again

and stare through the rose-vines--"to dream always

of some beautiful thing that youth promised but

never gave, and that given might have ended in dull

routine and a brain so choked with little things that

memory too held nothing else."

"But Concha," cried Sturgis eagerly, "I could

give you far better than that. I could take you

away from here--to Boston, to Europe. You

should see--live your life--in the great cities you

have dreamed of--that you hardly believe in--that

were made to enjoy. I have told you of the theater,

the opera--you should go to the finest in the world.

You should wear the most beautiful gowns and

jewels, go to courts, see the great works of art--I

am not trying to bribe you," he stammered, flushing

miserably. "God forbid that I should stoop to any-

thing as mean as that. But it all rushed upon me

suddenly that I could give you so much that you

were made for, with this worthless money of mine.

And what happiness to be in Europe with you--

what--what--"

His voice trembled and broke, and he dared not

look at her. Again she stared through the vines.

A splendid and thrilling panorama rose beyond

them, her bosom heaved, her lips parted. She saw

herself in it, and not alone. And not, alas, with

the honest youth whose words had inspired it. In

a moment she shook her head and turned her eyes

on the flushed, averted face of her suitor.

"I shall never see Europe," she said gently, "and

I shall never marry."

"Not if this Russian asks you?" cried Sturgis, in

his jealous misery.

But Concha's anger did not rise again. "He has

no intention of asking a little California girl to

share the honors of one of the most brilliant careers

in Europe," she said calmly. "Set your mind at

rest. He has paid me no more attention than is due

my position as the daughter of the Commandante,

and perhaps of La Favorita. If I flirt a little and

he flirts in response, that is nothing. Is he not then

a man? But he will forget me in a month. The

world, his world, is full of pretty girls."

"A week ago you would not have said that," said

Sturgis shrewdly. "There has been nothing in your

life to make you so humble."

"I cannot explain, but he seems to have brought

the great world with him. I know, I understand

so many things that I had not dreamed of a week

ago. A week! Madre de Dios!"

And Sturgis, who after all was a gallant gentle-

man, made no comment.

XIV

Governor Arrillaga, Commandante Arguello,

and Chamberlain Rezanov sat in the familiar sala

at the Presidio content in body after a culinary

achievement worthy of Padre Landaeta, but per-

turbed and alert of mind. Upon the arrival of the

two California dignitaries in the morning, Rezanov

had sent Davidov and Langsdorff on shore to assure

them of his gratitude and deep appreciation of the

hospitality shown himself, his officers and men. The

Governor had replied with a fulsome apology for

not repairing at once to the Juno to welcome his dis-

tinguished guest in person, and, pleading his age

and the one hundred and seventy-five English miles

he had ridden from Monterey, begged him as a

younger man to waive informality, and dine at the

house of the Commandante that very day. Rezanov

had complied as a matter of course, and now he was

alone with the men who held his fate in their hands.

The dark worn rugged face of Don Jose, who had

been skilfully prepared by his oldest daughter to

think well of the Russian, beamed with good-will

and interest, in spite of lingering doubts; but the

lank, wiry figure of the Governor, who was as digni-

fied as only a blond Spaniard can be, was fairly

rigid with the severe formality he reserved for occa-

sions of ceremony--being a gentleman who loved

good company and cheer--and his sharp gray eyes

were almost shut in the effort to penetrate the de-

signs of this deputy, this symbol, this index in cipher,

of a dreaded race. Rezanov smoked calmly, made

himself comfortable on the slippery horse-hair chair,

though with no loss of dignity, and beat about the

bush with the others until the Governor betrayed

himself at last by a chance remark:

"What you say of the neighborly instincts of the

Russian colonists for the Spanish on this coast in-

terests me deeply, Excellency, but if Russia is at

war with Spain--"

"Russia is not at war with Spain," said Rezanov,

with a flash of amusement in his half-closed eyes.

"Napoleon Bonaparte is encamped about half way

between the two countries. They could not get at

each other if they wished. While that man is at

large, Europe will be at war with him, no two na-

tions with each other."

"Ah!" exclaimed Arrillaga. "That is a manner

of reasoning that had not occurred to me."

The Commandante had spat at the mention of the

usurper's name and muttered "Chinchosa!" and

Rezanov, recalling his first conversation with Con-

cha, looked into the honest eyes of the monarchist

with a direct and hearty sympathy.

"No better epithet for him," he said. "And the

sooner Europe combines to get rid of him the bet-

ter. But until it does, count upon a common griev-

ance to unite your country and mine."

"Good!" muttered the Governor. "Good! I am

glad that nightmare has lifted its bat's wings from

our poor California. Captain O'Cain's raid two

years ago made me apprehensive, for he took away

some eleven hundred of our otter skins and his

hunters were Aleutians--subjects of the Tsar. A

negro that deserted gave the information that they

were furnished the Bostonian by the chief manager

of your Company--Baranhov--whose reputation we

know well enough!--for the deliberate purpose of

raiding our coast."

Rezanov shrugged his shoulders and replied indif-

ferently: "I will ask Baranhov when I return to

Sitka, and write you the particulars. It is more

likely that the Aleutians were deserters. This

O'Cain would not be the first shrewd Bostonian to

tempt them, for they are admirable hunters and

ready for any change. They make a greater de-

mand upon the Company for variety of diet than

we are always prepared to meet, so many are the

difficulties of transportation across Siberia. When,

therefore, the time arrived that I could continue my

voyage, I determined to come here and see if some

arrangement could not be made for a bi-yearly

exchange of commodities. We need farinaceous

stuffs of every sort. I will not pay so poor a com-

pliment to your knowledge of the northern settle-

ments as to enlarge upon the advantages California

would reap from such a treaty."

The Governor, who had permitted himself to

touch the back of his chair after the dispersal of

the war cloud, stiffened again. "Ah!" he said.

"Ah!" He looked significantly at the Com-

mandante, who nodded. "You come on a semi-

official mission, after all, then?"

"It is entirely my own idea," said Rezanov care-

lessly. "The young Tsar is too much occupied with

Bonaparte to give more than a passing thought to

his colonies. But I have a free hand. Can I arrange

the preliminaries of a treaty, I have only to return

to St. Petersburg to receive his signature and highest

approval. It would be a great feather in my cap I

can assure your excellencies," he added, with a quick

human glance and a sudden curve of his somewhat

cynical mouth.

"Um!" said the Governor. "Um!"

But Arguello's stern face had further relaxed.

After all, he was but eleven years older than the

Russian, and, although early struggles and heavy

responsibilities and many disappointments had de-

prived life of much of its early savor, what was left

of youth in him responded to the ambition he divined

in this interesting stranger. Moreover, the idea of

a friendly bond with another race on the lonely

coast of the Pacific appealed to him irresistibly. He

turned eagerly to the Governor.

"It is a fine idea, Excellency. We need much

that they have, and it pleases me to think we should

be able to supply the wants of others. Fancy any

one wanting aught of California, except hides, to

be sure. I did not think our existence was known

save to an occasional British or Boston skipper. It

is true we are here only to Christianize savages, but

even they have need of much that cannot be manu-

factured in this God-forsaken land. And we our-

selves could be more comfortable--God in heaven,

yes! It is well to think it over, Excellency. Who

knows?--we might have a trip to the north once

in a while. Life is more excellent with something

to look forward to."

"You should have a royal welcome. Baranhov is

the most hospitable man in Russia, and I might have

the happiness to be there myself. I see, by the way,

that you have not engaged in shipbuilding. I need

not say that we should supply the ships of com-

merce, with no diminution of your profits. We build

at Okhotsk, Petropaulovski, Kadiak, and Sitka.

Moreover, as the Bostonians visit us frequently, and

as your laws prohibit you from trading with them,

we would see that you always got such of their com-

modities as you needed. They come to us for furs,

and generally bring much for which we have no

use. Captain D'Wolf, from whom I bought the

Juno, had a cargo I was forced to take over. I

unloaded what was needed at Sitka, but as there

was no boat going for some months to the other

islands, I brought the rest with me, and you are wel-

come to it, if in exchange you will ballast the Juno

with samples of your agricultural products; while

the treaty is pending, I can experiment in our col-

onies and make sure which are the most adaptable

to the market.

"Um!" said the Governor. "Um!"

Rezanov did not remove his cool direct gaze from

the snapping eyes opposite.

"I have not the least objection to making a trade

that would fill my promuschleniki with joy; but that

was by no means the first object of my voyage;

which was partly inspired by a desire to see as much

of this globe as a man may in one short life, partly

to arrange a treaty that would be of incalculable

benefit to both colonies and greatly redound to my

own glory. I make no pretence of being disinter-

ested. I look forward to a career of ever increasing

influence and power in St. Petersburg, and I wish

to take back as many credits as possible."

"I understand, I understand!" The Governor

rested his lame back once more. "Your ambition is

the more laudable, Excellency, since you have

achieved so much already. I am not one to balk the

honest ambition of any man, particularly when he

does me the honor to take me into his confidence. I

like this suggested measure. I like it much. I be-

lieve it would redound to our mutual benefit and

reputation. Is it not so, Jose?"

The Commandante nodded vigorously. "I am

sure of it! I am sure of it! I like it--much,

much."

"I will write at once to the Viceroy of Mexico

and ask that he lay the matter before the Cabinet

and King. Without that high authority we can do

nothing. But I see no reason to doubt the issue when

we, who know the wants and needs of California,

approve and desire. We are doomed to failure in

this unwieldy land of worthless savages, but it is the

business of the wretched servants of a glorious mon-

arch to do the best they can."

Rezanov had an inspiration. "You might remind

the viceroy that Spain and the United States of

America have been on the verge of war for years,

and suggest the benefit of an alliance with Russia

in the case of the new country taking advantage of

the situation in Europe to extend its western

boundaries--"

Arrillaga had bounced to his feet, his small eyes

injected and blazing. "Those damned Bostonians!"

he shouted. "I distrusted them years ago. They

have too much calculation in their bluntness. They

cheated us, sold us short, traded under my very

nose, stole our otters, until I ordered them never to

drop an anchor in California waters again. If

their ridiculous upstart government dares to cast its

eyes on California we shall know how to meet them

--the sooner they march on Mexico and lose their

conceit the better. How they do brag! Faugh! It

is sickening. I shall remember all you say, Excel-

lency; and thank you for the hint."

Rezanov rose, and the Commandante solemnly

kissed him on either cheek. "Governor Arrillaga is

my guest, Excellency," he said. "I beg that you will

dine with us daily--unofficially--that you will re-

gard California as your own kingdom, and come

and go at your pleasure. And my daughter begs

me to remind you and your young officers that there

will be informal dancing every night."

"So far so good," thought Rezanov, as he

mounted his horse to return to the Juno. "But

what of my cargo? I fancy there will be more diffi-

culty in that quarter."

The Chamberlain was in a towering bad humor.

As he made his appearance at least two hours earlier

than he was expected, he found the decks of the

Juno covered with the skins of sea-dogs, foxes, and

birds. He had heard Langsdorff go to his cabin

later than usual the night before, and that his pet

aversion was the cause of a fresh grievance, but

hastened the eruption of his smouldering resentment

toward life in general.

"What does this mean?" he roared to the sailor

on watch. "Clear them off--overboard, every one

of them. What are you staring at?"

The sailor, who was a "Bostonian," an inheri-

tance with the ship, opened his mouth in favor of

the unfortunate professor, but like his mates, he

stood in much awe of a master whose indulgence

demanded implicit obedience in return. Without

further ado, he flung the skins into the sea.

Rezanov, to do him justice, would not have acted

otherwise had he risen in the best of tempers. He

had inflicted himself with the society of the learned

doctor that he might always have a physician and

surgeon at hand, as well as an interpreter where

Latin was the one door of communication. He

should pay him handsomely, make him a present in

addition to the sum agreed upon, but he had not the

least intention of giving up any of the Juno's

precious space to the vagaries of a scientist, nor to

submit to the pollution of her atmosphere. Langs-

dorff was his creature, and the sooner he realized

the fact the better.

"Remember," he said to the sailor, "no more of

this, or it will be the worse for you-- What is

this?" He had come upon a pile of ducks, gulls,

pelicans, and other aquatic birds. "Are these the

cook's or the professor's?"

"The professor's, Excellency."

"Overboard." And the birds followed the skins.

Rezanov turned to confront the white and

trembling Langsdorff. The naturalist was enfolded

in a gorgeous Japanese dressing-gown, purple bro-

cade embroidered with gold, that he had surrepti-

tiously bought in the harbor of Nagasaki. To

Rezanov it was like a red rag to a bull; but the pro-

fessor was oblivious at the moment of the tactless

garment. His eyes were glaring and the extended

tip of his nose worked like a knife trying to leap

from its sheath. But although he occasionally ven-

tured upon a retort when goaded too far in conver-

sation, he was able to curb his just indignation when

the Chamberlain was in a bad temper. In that vague

gray under winking stars in their last watch, Rez-

anov seemed to tower six feet above him.

"Excellency," he murmured.

"Well?"

"My--my specimens."

"Your what?"

"The cause of science is very dear to me, Excel-

lency."

"So it is to me--in its proper place. Were those

skins yours?" His voice became very suave. "I am

sorry you should have fatigued yourself for noth-

ing, but I am forced to remind you that this is not

an expedition undertaken for the promotion of nat-

ural history. I am not violating my part in the con-

tract, I believe. Upon our arrival at Sitka you are

at liberty to remain as my guest and make use of

the first boat that sails for this colony; but for the

present I beg that you will limit yourself to the re-

quirements of your position on my staff."

He turned his back and ordered a canoe to be

lowered. Since the arrival of the Governor and

Commandante, now three days ago, all restrictions

on his liberty had been removed, and the phrases

of hospitality were a trifle less meaningless. He

had been asked to give his word to keep away from

the fortifications, and as he knew quite as much of

the military resources of the country as he desired,

he had merely suppressed a smile and given his

promise.

This morning he wanted nothing but a walk. He

had slept badly, the blood was in his head, his

nerves were on edge. He went rapidly along the

beach and over the steep hills that led to the north-

eastern point of the peninsula. But he had taken

the walk before and did not turn his head to look

at the great natural amphitheater formed by the

inner slopes of those barren heights, so uninterest-

ing of outline from the water. Once when Luis

had left him to go down with an order to the Bat-

tery of Yerba Buena, he had examined it critically

and concluded that never had there been so fine a

site for a great city. Nor a more beautiful, with

the broken line of the San Bruno mountains in the

distance and a glimpse of the Mission valley just

beyond this vast colosseum, whose steep imposing

lines were destined by nature to be set with palaces

and bazaars, minarets and towers and churches,

with a thousand gilded domes and slender crosses

glittering in the crystal air and sunlight. If not

another Moscow, then an Irkutsk in his day, at

least.

But he did not give the chosen site of his city a

glance to-day, although in this gray air before

dawn when mystery and imagination most closely

embrace, he might at another time have forgotten

himself in one of those fits of dreaming that slipped

him out of touch with realities, and sometimes pre-

cipitated action in a manner highly gratifying to

his enemies.

But much as he loved Russia, there were times

when he loved his own way more, and since the

arrival of Governor Arrillaga he was beginning to

feel as he had felt in the harbor of Nagasaki. Not

a word since that first interview had been said of

his cargo; nor even of the treaty, although nothing

could have been more natural than the discussion

of details. Whenever he had delicately broached

either subject, he had been met with a polite indif-

ference, that had little in common with the cor-

diality otherwise shown him. He foresaw that he

might be obliged to reveal the more pressing object

of his visit without further diplomacy, and the

thought irritated him beyond endurance.

Whether Concha were giving him her promised

aid he had no means of discovering, and herein lay

another cause of his general vexation. He had

dined every day at the Commandante's, danced

there every night. Concha had been vivacious,

friendly--impersonal. Not so much as a coquettish

lift of the brow betrayed that the distinguished

stranger eclipsed the caballeros for the moment; nor

a whispered word that he retained the friendship

she had offered him on the day of their meeting.

He had not, indeed, had a word with her alone.

But his interest and admiration had deepened. It

was evident that her father and the Governor adored

her, would deny her little. Her attitude to them

was alternately that of the petted child and the

chosen companion. As her mother was indisposed,

she occupied her place at the table, presiding with

dignity, guiding the conversation, revealing the rare

gift of making everyone appear at his best. In the

evening she had sometimes danced alone for a few

moments, but more often with her Russian guests,

and readily learning the English country dances

they were anxious to teach. Rezanov would have

found the gay informality of these evenings delight-

ful had his mind been at ease about his Sitkans, and

Concha a trifle more personal. He had begun by

suspecting that she was maneuvering for his scalp,

but he was forced to acquit her; for not only did

she show no provocative favor to another, but she

seemed to have gained in dignity and pride since his

arrival, actually to have kissed her hand in farewell

to the childhood he had been so slow in divining;

grown--he felt rather than analyzed--above the

pettiness of coquetry. Once more she had stirred

the dormant ideals of his early manhood; there

were moments when she floated before his inner

vision as the embodiment of the world's beauty.

Nor ever had there been a woman born more elab-

orately equipped for the position of a public man's

mate; nor more ingenerate, perhaps, with the power

to turn earth into heaven.

He had wondered humorously if he were fallen

in love, but, although he retained little faith in the

activities of the heart after youth, he was begin-

ning seriously to consider the expedience of marry-

ing Concha Arguello. He had not intended to

marry again, and it was this old and passionate

love of personal freedom that alone held him back,

for nothing would be so advantageous to the Russian

colonies in their present crisis as a strong individual

alliance with California. Concha Arguello was the

famous daughter of its first subject, and with the

powerful friends she would bring to her husband,

the consummation of ends dearer to his heart than

aught on earth would be a matter of months instead

of years. And he thrilled with pride as he thought

of Concha in St. Petersburg. Two years of court

life and she would be one of the greatest ladies in

Europe. That he could win her he believed, and

without undue vanity. He had much to offer an

ambitious girl conscious of her superiority to the

men of this province of Spain, and chafing at the

prospect of a lifetime in a bountiful desert. His

only hesitation lay in his own doubt if she were

worth the loss of his freedom, and all that word

involved to a man of his position and adventurous

spirit.

He shrugged his shoulders at this argument; he

had walked off some of his ill-humor, and reverted

willingly to a theme that alone had given him satis-

faction during the past few days. At the same time

he made a motion as if flinging aside an old burden.

"It is time for such nonsense to end," he thought

contemptuously. "And in truth these three years

should have wrought such changes in me I doubt I

should have patience for an hour of the old trifling.

My greatest need from this time on, I fancy, is

work. I could never be idle a month again. And

when a man is in love with work--and power--

and has passed forty--does he want a constant com-

panion? That is the point. At my time of life

power exercises the most irresistible and lasting of

all fascinations. A man that wins it has little left

for a woman."

He had reached the summit of the rocky outpost;

the highest of the hills where the peninsula turned

abruptly to the south, and, scrupulously refraining

from a downward glance at the Battery of Yerba

Buena, stood looking out over the bay to the eastern

mountains: dark, almost formless, wrapped in the

intense and menacing mystery of that last hour be-

fore dawn.

"Senor!" called a low cautious voice.

Rezanov stepped hastily back from the point of

the bluff and glanced about in wonder, his pulses

suddenly astir. But he could see no one.

This time the direction was unmistakable, and

he went to the edge of the plateau facing the south

and looked over. Halfway down a shallow and

almost perpendicular gully, he saw a girl forcing a

mustang up the harsh, loose path. The girl's white

and oval face looked from the folds of a black re-

boso like the moon emerging from clouds, and its

young beauty was out of place in that wild and for-

bidding setting. She reined in her horse as she

caught his eye and beckoned superfluously; then

guided her mustang to a little ledge where he could

plant his feet firmly, permitting her to reassume her

usual pride of carriage and averting the danger of

a sudden scramble or need of assistance.

As Rezanov reached her side, she gave him a

grave and friendly smile, but no opportunity to kiss

her hand.

"I have followed your excellency," she said. "I

saw you leave the Juno, and as I am often up at

this hour, and as no one else ever is, my father

ignores the fact that I sometimes ride alone. I have

never come as far as this before, but there is some-

thing I wish to say to you, and there is no oppor-

tunity at home. I asked Santiago to find me one

last night, but he was in a bad temper and would

not. Men! However--I suppose you have heard

nothing of the cargo?"

"I have not," said Rezanov grimly, although

acutely sensible that the subject suited neither his

mood nor the hour.

"But the Governor has! Madre de Dios! all the

women of the Presidio and the Mission have pes-

tered him. They are sick with jealousy at the

shawls you gave us that day--those that did not go

to the ship. How clever of your excellency to give

us just enough for ourselves and nothing for our

friends! And those that went want more and more.

They have called upon him--one, two, four, and

alone. They have wept and scolded and pleaded. I

did not know until yesterday that your commissary

had also shown the things to the priests from San

Jose--Father Jose Uria and Father Pedro de la

Cueva. They and the priests of San Francisco have

argued with the Governor not once but three times.

Dios! how his poor excellency swore yesterday. He

threatened to return at once to Monterey. I flew

into a great rage and threatened in turn to follow

with all the other girls and all the priests--vowed he

should not have one moment of peace until that

cargo was ours."

"Well?" asked Rezanov sharply, in spite of his

amusement.

Concha shook her head. "When he does not

swear, he answers only: 'Buy if you have the

money. I have never broken a law of Spain, and

I shall not begin in my old age.' He knows well

that we have no money to send out of New Spain;

but I have conceived a plan, senor. It is for you,

not for me, to suggest it. You will never betray

that I have been your friend, Excellency?"

"I will swear it if you wish," said Rezanov

frigidly.

"Pardon, senor. If I thought you could I should

not be here. One often says such things. This is

the plan: You shall suggest that we buy your wares,

and that you buy again with our money. The dear

Governor only wants to save his conscience an ache,

for we have driven him nearly distracted. I am

sure he will consent, for you will know how to put

it to him very diplomatically."

"But if he refused to understand, or his con-

science remained obdurate? I should then have

neither cargo nor ballast."

"He would never trick a guest, nor would he let

the money go out of the country. And he knows

well how much we need your cargo and longs to be

able to state in his reports that he sold you a hold

full of breadstuffs. Moreover, I think the time has

come to tell him of the distress at Sitka. He is very

soft-hearted and is now in that distracted state of

mind when only one more argument is required. I

hope I have given you good advice, Excellency. It

is the best I can think of. I have given it much

thought, and the terrible state of those miserable

creatures has kept me awake many nights. I must

return now. Will your excellency kindly remain

here until I am well on my way?--and then return

by the beach? I shall go as I came, through the

valley. Neither of us can be seen from the Bat-

tery."

"I will obey all your instructions," said Rezanov.

But he did not move, nor could the mustang. Con-

cha smiled and pointed to the other side of the

cleft, which was about as wide as a narrow street.

"Pardon, senor, I cannot turn."

For a moment Rezanov stared at her, through

her. Then his heavy eyes opened and flashed. It

seemed to him that for the first time he saw how

beautiful, how desirable she was, set in that gray

volcanic rock with the heavens gray above her, and

the stars fading out. It was not the bower he would

have imagined for the wooing of a mate, but neither

moonlight nor the romantic glades of La Bellissima

could have awakened in him a passion so sudden

and final. Her face between the black folds turned

whiter and she shrank back against the jagged wall:

and when his eyes flashed again with a wild eager

hope she involuntarily crossed herself. He threw

himself against the horse and snatched her down

and kissed her as he had kissed no woman yet,

recognizing her once for all.

When he finally held her at arm's length for a

moment he laughed confusedly.

"The Russian bear is no longer a figure of

speech," he said. "Forgive me. I forgot that you

are as tender as you are strong."

Her hands were tightly clasped against her

breast and the breath was short in her throat, but

she made no protest. Her eyes were radiant, her

mouth was the only color in that gray dawn. In a

moment she too laughed.

"Dios de mi alma! What will they say? A

heretic! If Tamalpais fell into the sea it would not

make so great a sensation in this California of ours

where civilized man exists but to drive heathen souls

into the one true church."

"Will it matter to you? Are you strong enough?

It will be only a question of time to win them over,

if you are."

She nodded emphatically. "I was born with

strength. Now--Dios!--now I can be stronger than

the King of Spain himself, than the Governor, my

parents and all the priests-- You would not be-

come a Catholic?" she asked abruptly.

He shook his head, although he still smiled at her.

"Not even for you."

"No," she said thoughtfully. "I will confess--

what matters it?--I often dreamed that this would

come just because I believed it would not. But why

should one control the imagination when it alone

can give us happiness for a little while? I gave it

rein, for I thought that one-half of my life was to

be passed in that unreal but by no means niggardly

world. And I thought of everything. To change

your religion would mean the ruin of your career;

moreover, it is not a possibility of your character.

Were it I think I should not love you so much. Nor

could I bear to think of any change in you. Only

it will be harder--longer." Then she stretched out

her hand, and closed and opened it slowly. The

most obtuse could not have failed to read the old

simile of the steel in the velvet. "I shall win be-

cause it is my nature--and my power--to hold what

I grasp."

"But if they persistently refuse--"

"Dios!" she interrupted him. "Do you think that

your love is greater than mine? I was born with a

thousand years of love in me and had you not come

I should have gone alone with my dreams to the

grave. I am all women in one, not merely Concha

Arguello, a girl of sixteen." She clasped her hands

high above her head, lifting her eyes to the ashen

vault so soon to yield to the gay brush of dawn.

"Before all that great mystery," she said solemnly,

"I give myself to you forever, how much or how

little that may mean here on earth. Forever."

XVI

The Commandante of the San Francisco Company

sat opposite Rezanov with his mouth open, the lines

of his strong face elongated and relaxed. It was

the hour of siesta, and they were alone in the sala.

"Mother of God!" he exclaimed. "Mother of

God! Are you mad, Excellency?"

"No man was ever saner," said Rezanov cheer-

fully. "What better proof would you have than

this final testimony to Dona Concha's perfections?"

"But it cannot be! Surely, Excellency, you

realize that? The priests! Ay yi! Ay yi!"

"I think I understand the priests. Persuade the

Governor to buy my cargo and they will look upon

me as an amicus humani generis to whom common

rules do not apply. And I have won their sincere

friendship."

"You have won mine, senor. But, though I say

it, there is no more devout Catholic in the Cali-

fornias than Jose Arguello. Do you know what

they call me? El santo. God knows I am not, but

it is not for want of the wish. Did I give my daugh-

ter to a heretic, not only should I become an outcast,

a pariah, but I should imperil my everlasting soul

and that of my best beloved child. It is impossible,

Excellency--unless, indeed, you embrace our faith."

"That is so impossible that the subject is not

worth the waste of a moment. But surely, Com-

mandante, in your excitement at this perfectly nat-

ural issue you are misrepresenting yourself. I do

not believe, devout Catholic as you are, that your

soul is steeped in fanaticism. You are known far

and wide as the first and most intelligent of His

Catholic Majesty's subjects in New Spain. When

you have my word of honor that your daughter's

faith shall never be disturbed, it is impossible you

should believe that marriage with me would ruin

her chances of happiness in the next world. But I

doubt if your soul and conscience will have the peace

you desire if you ruin her happiness in this. What

pleasure do you find in the thought of an old age

companioned by a heart-broken daughter?"

Don Jose turned pale and hitched his chair.

"Other maids have been balked when young, and

have forgotten. Concha is but sixteen--"

"She is also unique. She will marry me or no

one. Of that I am as certain as that she is the

woman of women for me."

"How can you be so certain?" asked the Com-

mandante sharply. "Surely you have had little talk

alone with her?"

"The heart has a language of its own. Recall

your own youth, senor."

"It is true," said Don Jose, with a heavy sigh, as

he had a fleeting vision of Dona Ignacia, slim and

lovely, at the grating, with a rose in her hair. "But

this tremendous passion of the heart--it passes,

senor, it passes. We love the good wife, but we

sometimes realize that we could have loved another

good wife as well."

"That is a bit of philosophy I should have uttered

myself, Commandante--yesterday. But there are

women and women, and your daughter is one of the

chosen few who take from the years what the years

take from others. I am not rushing into matri-

mony for the sake of a pair of black eyes and a fine

figure. I have outlived the possibility of making a

fool of myself if I would. Before I realized how

deeply I loved your daughter I had deliberately

chosen her out of all the women I have known, as

my friend and companion for the various and diffi-

cult ways of life which I shall be called upon to

follow. Your daughter will have a high place at

the Russian Court, and she will occupy it as nat-

urally as if I had found her in Madrid and you in

the great position to which your attainments and

services entitle you."

Don Jose, despite his consternation, titillated

agreeably. He privately thought no one in New

Spain good enough for his daughter, and his

weather-beaten self was not yet insensible to the

rare visitation of winged darts tipped with honey.

But the situation was one of the most embarrassing

he had ever been called upon to face, and perhaps

for the first time in his direct and honest life his

resolution was shaken in a crisis.

"Believe me, your excellency, I appreciate the

honor you have done my house, and I will add with

all my heart that never have I liked a man more.

But--Mother of God! Mother of God!"

Rezanov took out his cigarette case, a superb bit

of Russian enamel, graven with the Imperial arms,

and a parting gift from his Tsar. He passed it to

his host, who had developed a preference for Rus-

sian cigarettes.

"There are other things to consider besides the

happiness of your daughter and myself," he re-

marked. "This alliance would mean the consolida-

tion of Spanish and Russian interests on the Pacific

coast. It would mean the protection of California

in the almost certain event of 'American' aggres-

sion. And I hear that a courier brought word again

yesterday that the Russian and the Spanish fleets

had sailed for these waters. I do not believe a word

of it; but should it be true, I would remind you of

two things: that I have the powers of the Tsar him-

self in this part of the world, and that the Russian

fleet is likely to arrive first."

Again the Commandante moved uneasily. The

news from Mexico had kept himself and the Gov-

ernor awake the better part of the night. He fully

appreciated the importance of this powerful Rus-

sian's friendship. Nothing would bind and commit

him like taking a Californian to wife. If only he

had fallen in love with Carolina Xime'no or Delfina

Rivera! Don Jose had an uneasy suspicion that his

scruples as a Catholic might have gone down before

his sense of duty to this poor California. But a

heretic in his own family! He was justly renowned

for his piety. Aside from the wrath of the church,

the mere thought of one of his offspring in matri-

monial community beyond its pale made him sick

with repugnance. And yet--California! And he

would have selected Rezanov for his daughter out

of all men had he been of their faith. And he was

deeply conscious of the honor that had descended,

however unfruitfully, upon his house. Madre de

Dios! How would it end? Suddenly he felt him-

self inspired. In blissful ignorance of her subtle

feminine rule, he reminded himself that Concha's

mind was the child of his own. When she saw his

embarrassment, filial duty and woman's wit would

extricate them both with grace and avert the enmity

of the Russian even though the latter's more per-

sonal interest in California must die in his disap-

pointment. He would make her feel the weight of

the stern paternal hand, and then indicate the part

she had to play.

He rang a bell and directed the servant to sum-

mon his daughter, drew himself up to his full height,

and set his rugged face in hard lines. As Concha

entered he looked the Commandante, the stern disci-

plinarian, every inch of him.

There was no trace of the siesta in Concha's

cheeks. They were very white, but her eyes were

steady and her mouth indomitable as she walked

down the sala and took the chair Rezanov placed

for her. Except for her Castilian fairness, she

looked very like the martinet sitting on the other

side of the table. The Commandante regarded her

silently with brows drawn together. Dimly, he felt

apprehension, wondered, in a flash of insight, if girls

held fast to the parental recipe, or recombined with

tongue in cheek. The bare possibility of resistance

almost threw him into panic, but he controlled his

features until the effort injected his eyes and drew

in his nostrils. Concha regarded him calmly, al-

though her heart beat unevenly, for she dreaded the

long strain she foresaw.

"My daughter," said Don Jose finally, his tones

harsh with repressed misgiving, "do you suspect

why I have sent for you?"

"I think that his excellency wishes to marry me,"

replied Concha; and the Commandante was so stag-

gered by the calm assurance of her tone and manner

that his pent-up emotion exploded.

"Dios!" he roared. "What right have you to

know when a man wishes to marry you? What

manner of Spanish girl is this? Truly has his ex-

cellency said that you are not as other women. The

place for you is your room, with bread and water

for a week. Sixteen!"

"Ignacio was born when my mother was sixteen,"

said Concha coolly.

"What of that? She married whom and when

she was told to marry."

"I have heard that you serenaded nightly beneath

her grating--"

"So did others."

"I have heard that when of all her suitors her

father chose one more highly born, a gentleman of

the Viceroy's court, she pined until they gave their

consent to her marriage with you, lest she die."

"But I was a Catholic! The prejudice against my

birth was an unworthy one. I had distinguished

myself. And she had the support of the priests."

"It is my misfortune that M. de Rezanov is not

a Catholic, but it will make no difference. I shall

not fall ill, for I am like you, not like my dear

mother--and the education you have given me is

very different from hers. But I shall marry his

excellency or no one, and whether I marry him or

live alone with the thought of him until the end of

my mortal days, I do not believe that my soul will

be imperilled in the least."

"You do not!" shouted the irate Spaniard. "How

dare you presume to decide such a question for

yourself? What does a woman know of love until

she marries? It is nothing but a sickening imag-

ination before; and if the man goes, the doctor soon

comes."

"You may not have intended--but you have

taught me to think for myself. And I have seen

others besides M. de Rezanov--the flower of Cali-

fornia and more than one fine gentleman from

Mexico. I will have none of them. I will marry

the man of my choice or no one. It may be that I

know naught of love. If you wish, you may think

that my choice of a husband is determined by ambi-

tion, that I am dazzled with the thought of court

life in St. Petersburg, of being the consort of a

great and wealthy noble. It matters not. Love or

ambition, I shall marry this Russian or I shall never

marry at all."

"Mother of God! Mother of God!" Don Jose's

face was purple. The veins swelled in his neck. He

was the more wroth because he recognized his own

daughter and his own handiwork, because he saw

that he confronted a Toledo blade, not a woman's

brittle will. Concha regarded him calmly.

"If you refuse your consent you will lose me in

another way. I may not be able to marry as I wish,

but I will have no worldly alternative. I shall join

the Third Order of the Franciscans, and enter a

convent as soon as one is built in California. To

that you cannot withhold your consent, or they no

longer would call you El santo."

Don Jose leaped from his chair. "Go to your

room!" he thundered. "And do not dare to leave it

without my permission--"

But Concha sprang forward and flung herself

upon his neck. She rubbed her warm elastic cheek

against his own in the manner he loved, and softened

her voice. "Papacito mio, papacito mio," she

pleaded. "Thou wilt not refuse thy Concha the only

thing she has ever begged of thee. And I beg! I

beg! Papa mio! I love him! I love him!" And

she broke into wild weeping and kissed him franti-

cally, while Rezanov who had followed her plan of

attack and resistance in silent admiration, did not

know whether he should himself be moved to tears

or further admire.

Don Jose pushed her from him with a heavy sob

and hastily left the room, oblivious in the confusion

of his faculties of the boon he conferred on the

lovers. Concha dried her eyes, but her face was

deathly pale. It had not been all acting, by any

means, and she was beginning to feel the tyranny of

sleepless nights; and the joy and wonder of the

morning had left her with but a remnant of endur-

ance for the domestic battleground.

"Go," she whispered, as he took her in his arms.

"Return for the dance to-night as if nothing had

happened-- I forgot, there is to be a bull-bear

fight in the square. So much the better, for it is in

your honor, and you could not well remain away.

There is much trouble to come, but in the end we

shall win."

XVII

The muscles in Dona Ignacia's cheeks fell an inch

as she listened, dumbfounded, to the tale her husband

poured out. To her simple aristocratic soul Rez-

anov had loomed too great a personage to dream of

mating with a Californian; and as her sharp mater-

nal instinct had recognized his personal probity,

even his gallantries had seemed to her no more con-

sequent than the more catholic trifling of his officers.

"Holy Mary!" she whimpered, when her voice

came back. "Holy Mary! A heretic! And he

would take our Concha from us! And she would

go! To St. Petersburg! Ten thousand miles!

To the priests with her--now--this very day!"

Concha had thrown herself on her bed in belated

hope of siesta, when Malia (Rosa had been sent to

the house of Don Mario Sal in the valley) entered

with the message that she was to accompany her

parents to the Mission at once. She rose sullenly,

but in the manifold essentials of a girl's life she

had always yielded the implicit obedience exacted

by the Californian parent. In a few moments she

was riding out of the Presidio beside her father.

Dona Ignacia jolted behind in her carreta, a low and

clumsy vehicle, on solid wheels and springless,

drawn by oxen, and driven by a stable-boy on a

mustang. The journey was made in complete si-

lence save for the maledictions addressed to the oxen

by the boy, and an occasional "Ay yi!" "Madre de

Dios!" "Sainted Mary, but the sun bores a hole in

the head," from Dona Ignacia, whose increasing

discomfort banished wrath and apprehension for

the hour.

Don Jose did not even look at his daughter, but

his face was ten years older than in the morning.

He had begun dimly to appreciate that she was suf-

fering, and in a manner vastly different from the

passionate resentment he had seen her display when

the contents of a box from Mexico disappointed her,

or she was denied a visit to Monterey. That his

best-loved child should suffer tore his own heart,

but he merely cursed Rezanov and resolved to do

his best to persuade the Governor to yield to his

other demands, that California might be rid of him

the sooner.

Father Abella was walking down the long outer

corridor of the Mission reading his breviary, and

praying he might not be diverted from righteousness

by the comforting touch of his new habit, when he

looked up and saw the party from the presidio

floundering over the last of the sand hills. He

shuffled off to order refreshments, and returned in

time to disburden the carreta of Dona Ignacia--no

mean feat--volubly delighted in the visit and the

gossip it portended. But as he offered his arm to

lead her into the sala, she pushed him aside and

pointed to Concha, who had sprung to the ground

unassisted.

"She has come to confess, padre!" she exclaimed,

her mind, under the deep tiled roof of the corridor,

readjusting itself to tragedy. "I beg that you will

take her at once. Padre Landaeta can give us

chocolate and we will tell our terrible news to him

and receive advice and consolation."

Father Abella, not without a glimmering of the

truth, for better than any one he understood the

girl he had confessed many times, besides himself

having succumbed to the Russian, led the way to

the confessional in some perturbation of spirit. He

walked slowly, hoping that the long, cool church,

its narrow high windows admitting so scant a meed

of sunlight that no one of its worshippers had ever

read the legends on the walls, and even the stations

were but deeper bits of shade, would attune her

mind to holy things, and throw a mantle of un-

reality over those of the world.

He covered his face with his hand as she told her

story. This she did in a few words, disjointed, for

she was both tired and seething. For a few mo-

ments afterward there was a silence; the good priest

was increasingly disturbed and by no means certain

of his course. He was astonished to feel a tug at

his sleeve. Before he could reprove this impenitent

child for audacity she had raised herself that she

might approach her lips more closely to his ear.

"Mi padre!" she whispered hoarsely, "you will

take my part! You will not condemn me to a life of

misery! I am too proud to speak openly to others

--but I love this man more than my soul--more

than my immortal soul. Do you hear? I am in

danger of mortal sin. Perhaps I am already in that

state. You cannot save me if he goes. I will not

pray. I will not come to the church. I will be an

outcast. If I marry him, I will be a good Catholic

to the end of my days. If I marry him I can think

of other things besides--of my church, my father,

my mother, my sisters, brothers. If he goes, I shall

pass my life thinking of nothing but him, and if it

be true that heretics are doomed to hell, then I will

live so that I may go to hell with him."

In spite of his horror the priest was thrilled by

the intense passion in the voice so close to his ear.

Moreover, he knew women well, this good padre,

for even in California they differed little from those

that played ball with the world. So he dismissed the

horror and spoke soothingly.

"What you have said would be mortal sin, my

daughter, were it not that you are laboring under

strong and natural excitement; and I shall absolve

you freely when you have done the penance I must

impose. You have always been such a good child

that I am able to forgive you even in this terrible

moment. But, my daughter, surely you know that

this marriage can never take place--"

"It shall! It shall!"

"Control yourself, my daughter. You cannot

bring this man into the true church. His character

is long since formed and cast--it is iron. Even love

will not melt it. Were he younger--"

"I should hate him. All young men are insuffer-

able to me--always have been. I have found my

mate, and have him I will if I have to hide in the

hold of his ship. Ah, padre mio, I know not what

I say. But you will help me. Only you can. My

father thinks you as wise as a saint. And there

are other things--my head turns round--I can

hardly think--but you dare not lose the friendship

of this Russian. And my marriage to him would

be as much for the good of the Missions as for Cali-

fornia herself. Champion our course, point out

that not only would it be a great match for me, but

that many ends would be lost by ruining my life.

The Governor will find himself in a position to grant

your prayers for the cargo, particularly if you first

persuaded my father--so long they have been

friends, the Governor could not resist if he joined

our forces. What is one girl that she should be

held of greater account than the welfare of this

country to which you are devoting your life? The

happier are your converts, the more kindly will

they take to Christianity--which they do not love

as yet!--the more faithful and contented will they

be, in the prospect of the luxuries and the toys and

the trinkets of the Russian north. What is one girl

against the friendship of Russia for Spain? Who

am I that I should weigh a peseta in the scale?"

"You are Concha Arguello, the flower of all the

maidens in California, and the daughter of the best

of our men," replied Father Abella musingly. "And

until to-day there has been no Catholic more de-

vout--"

"It lies with you, mi padre, whether I continue

to be the best of Catholics or become the most

abandoned of heretics. You know me better than

anyone. You know that I will not weaken and

bend and submit, like a thousand other women. I

could be bad--bad--bad--and I will be! Do you

hear?" And she shook his arm violently, while her

hoarse voice filled the church.

"My child! My child! I have always believed

that you had it in you to become a saint. Yes, yes,

I feel the strength and maturity of your nature, I

know the lengths to which it might lead another;

but you could not be bad, Conchita. I have known

many women. In you alone have I perceived the

capacity for spiritual exaltation. You are the stuff

of which saints and martyrs are made. The vio-

lent will, the transcendent passions--they have

existed in the greatest of our saints, and been con-

quered."

"I will not conquer. I-- Oh, padre--for the

love of heaven--"

He left the box hastily and lifted her where she

had fallen and carried her into the room adjoining

the church. He laid her on the floor, and ran for

Dona Ignacia, who, refreshed with wine and

chocolate, came swiftly. But when Concha, under

practical administrations and maternal endearments,

finally opened her eyes, she pushed her mother

coldly aside, rose and steadied herself against the

wall for a moment, then returned to the church,

closing the door behind her.

When a woman has borne thirteen children in the

lost corners of the world, with scarce a thought in

thirty years for aught else save the husband and

his comforts, it is not to be expected that her wits

should be rapiers or her vocabulary distinguished.

But Dona Ignacia's unresting heart had an intelli-

gence of its own, and no inner convulsion could

alter the superb dignity of mien which Nature had

granted her. As she rose and confronted Father

Abella he moved forward with the instinct to kiss

her hand, as he had seen Rezanov do.

"Mi padre," she said, "Concha is the first of my

children to push me aside, and it is like a blow on

the heart; but I have neither anger nor resentment,

for it was not the act of a child to its parent, but

of one woman to another. Alas! this Russian, what

has he done, when her own mother can give her no

comfort? We all love when young, but this is more.

I loved Jose so much I thought I should die when

they would have compelled me to marry another.

But this is more. She will not die, nor even go to

bed and weep for days, but it is more. I should

not have died, I know that now, and in time I should

have married another, and been as happy as a wom-

an can be when the man is kind. Concha will love

but once, and she will suffer--suffer-- She may

be more than I, but I bore her and I know. And

she cannot marry him. A heretic! I no longer

think of the terrible separation. Were he a Cath-

olic I should not think of myself again. But it

cannot be. Oh, padre, what shall we do?"

They talked for a long while, and after further

consultation with Don Jose and Father Landaeta,

it was decided that Concha should remain for the

present in the house of Juan Moraga, where she

could receive the daily counsels of the priests, and

be beyond the reach of Rezanov. Meanwhile, all

influence would be brought to bear upon the Gov-

ernor that the Russian might be placated even while

made to realize that to loiter longer in California

waters would be but a waste of precious time.

XVIII

There was no performance after all in the Presidio

square that night, for the bear brought in from the

hills to do honor to the Russians died of excitement,

and it rained besides. Rezanov made the storm his

excuse for not dining and dancing as usual at the

house of the Commandante. But the relations be-

tween the Presidio and the Juno during the next

few days were by no means strained. Davidov and

Khostov were always with the Spanish officers,

drinking and card playing, or improving their danc-

ing and Spanish with the girls, whose guitars were

tuned for the waltz day and night. The dignitaries

met as usual and conversed on all topics save those

paramount in the minds of each. Nevertheless,

there were three significant facts as well known to

Rezanov as had they been aired to his liking.

He had sought an interview with Father Abella,

and tactfully ignoring the question of his marriage,

had persuaded that astute and influential priest to

make the proposition regarding his cargo that Con-

cha had suggested. The priest, backed by his three

coadjutors, had made it, and been repulsed with

fury. From another quarter Rezanov learned that

during his absence little else was discussed in the

house of the Commandante save his formidable mat-

rimonial project, and the supposed designs to his

country. Troops had been ordered from the south

to reinforce the San Francisco garrisons, and were

even now massed at Santa Clara, within a day's

march of the bay.

About a mile from the Presidio and almost oppo-

site the Juno's anchorage were six great stone tubs

sunken in the ground and filled by a spring of clear

water. Here, once a week, the linen, fine and

heavy, of Fort and Presidio was washed, the

stoutest serving women of households and barracks

meeting at dawn and scrubbing for half a day.

Rezanov had watched the bright picture they made

--for they wore a bit of every hue they could com-

mand--with a lazy interest, which quickened to

thirst when he heard that they were the most re-

liable newsmongers in the country. In every Pre-

sidial district was a similar institution, and the four

were known as the "Wash Tub Mail." Many of

the women were selected by the tyrants of the tubs

for their comeliness, and each had a lover in the

couriers that went regularly with mail and official

instructions from one end of the Californias to the

other. All important news was known first by these

women, and much was discussed over the tubs that

was long in reaching higher but no less interested

circles; and domestic bulletins were as eagerly

prized. The sailor that brought this information to

Rezanov was a good-looking and susceptible youth,

already the victim of an Indian maiden from the

handsome tribe in the Santa Clara Valley, and sister

of Dona Ignacia's Malia. Rezanov furnished him

with beads and other trinkets and was at no dis-

advantage thereafter.

There was nothing Rezanov would have liked

better than to see a Russian fleet sail through the

straits, but he also knew that nothing was less likely,

and that from such rumors he should only derive

further annoyance and delay. Two of his sailors

deserted at the prospect of war, and his hosts, if

neutral, were manifestly alert. Luis and Santiago

had been obliged to go to Monterey for a few days,

and there was no one at the Presidio in whom Rez-

anov could confide either his impatience to see Con-

cha or at the adjournment of his more prosaic but

no less pressing interests. These two young men

had been with him almost constantly since his

arrival, and demonstrated their friendship and even

affection unfailingly; but there was no love lost be-

tween himself and Gervasio. This young hidalgo

had the hauteur and intense family pride of San-

tiago without his younger brother's frank intelli-

gence and lingering ingenuousness. With all the

superiority and inferiority, he had made himself so

unpopular that his real kindness of heart atoned for

his absurdities only with those that knew him best.

Rezanov was not one of these nor aspired to be.

Like all highly seasoned men of the world, he had

no patience with the small vanities of the provincial,

and although diplomatically courteous to all, in his

present precarious position, he had taken too little

trouble to conciliate Gervasio to find him of use in

the absence of his friends.

At the end of three days Rezanov had forgotten

his cargo, and would have sent the Juno to the bot-

tom for ten minutes alone with Concha. He had

been on fire with love of her since the moment of

his actual surrender, and he was determined to have

her if there were no other recourse but elopement.

All his old and intense love of personal freedom

had melted out of form in the crucible of his lover's

imagination. That he should have doubted for a

moment that Concha was the woman for whom his

soul had held itself aloof and unshackled was a

matter for contemptuous wonder, and the pride he

had taken in his keen and swift perceptive faculties

suffered an eclipse. Mind and soul and body he

was a lover, a union unknown before.

On the fourth morning, his patience at an end,

he was about to leave the Juno to demand a formal

interview with Don Jose when he saw Luis and San-

tiago dismount at the beach and enter the canoe al-

ways in waiting. A few moments later they had

helped themselves to cigarettes from the gift of the

Tsar and were assuring Rezanov of their partisan-

ship and approval.

"We were somewhat taken aback at the first mo-

ment," Luis admitted. "But--well, we are both in

love--Santiago no less than I, although I have had

these six long years of waiting and am likely to

have another. And we love Concha as few men

love their sisters, for there is no one like her--is

it not so, Rezanov? And we quite understand why

she has chosen you, and why she stands firm, for

we know the strength of her character. We would

that you were a Catholic, but even so, we will not sit

by and see her life ruined, and we have called to

assure you that we shall use all our influence, every

adroit argument, to bring our parents to a more

reasonable frame of mind. They have already risen

above the first natural impulse of selfishness, and

would consent to the inevitable separation were you

only a Catholic. I have also talked with the Gov-

ernor--we arrived at midnight--and he flew into a

terrible temper--the poor man is already like a mad

bull at bay--but if my father yielded, he would--

on all points. This morning I shall ride over and

talk with Father Abella, who, I fancy, needs only

a little extra pressure--you may be sure Concha has

not been idle--to yield; and for more reasons than

one. I shall enlist Father Uria and Father de la

Cueva as well. They also have great influence

with my parents, and as they return to San Jose in

two days to prepare for the visit of the most estim-

able Dr. Langsdorff, there is no time to lose. I

shall go this morning. One more cigarito, senor,

and when that treaty is drawn remember the con-

version of your brother to Russian tobacco."

Rezanov thanked him so warmly, assured him

with so convincing an emphasis that with his fate

in such competent hands his mind was at peace, that

the ardent heart of the Californian exulted; Rez-

anov, with his splendid appearance, and typical of

the highest civilizations of Europe, had descended

upon his narrow sphere with the authority of a

demigod, and he not only thirsted to serve him, but

to fasten him to California with the surest of human

bonds.

As he dropped over the side of the ship, Rezanov's

hand fell lightly on the shoulder of Santiago.

"I can wait no longer to see your sister," he

whispered, mindful of the sterner responsibilities of

the older brother. "Do you think you could--"

Santiago nodded. "While Luis is at the Mission

I shall go to my cousin Juan Moraga's. You will

dine with us at the Presidio, and I shall escort you

back to the ship."

XIX

It was ten o'clock when Rezanov, who had supped

on the Juno, met Santiago in a sandy valley half a

mile from the Presidio and mounted the horse his

young friend himself had saddled and brought.

The long ride was a silent one. The youth was not

talkative at any time, and Rezanov was conscious of

little else save an overwhelming desire to see Con-

cha again. One secret of his success in life was his

gift of yielding to one energy at a time, oblivious

at the moment to aught that might distract or en-

feeble the will. To-night, as he rode toward the

Mission on as romantic a quest as ever came the

way of a lover, the diplomat, the anxious director

of a great Company, the representative of one of

the mighty potentates of earth, were submerged,

forgotten, in the thrilling anticipation of his hour

with the woman for whom every fiber of his being

yearned.

Nor ever was there more appropriate a setting

for one of those inaugural chapters in mating, half

appreciated at the time, that glimmer as a sort of

morning twilight on mountain tops over the mild

undulations of matrimony. The moon rode without

a masking cloud across the ambiguous night blue of

the California sky, a blue that looks like the fire of

strange elements, where the stars glow like silver

coals, and out of whose depths intense shadows of

blue and black fall; shadows in which all the terres-

trial world seems to float and recombine, where

houses are ghosts of ancient selves and men but the

eidola of forgotten dust. To-night the little estate

of Juan Moraga, the most isolated and eastern of

the settlement, surrounded by its high white wall,

looked as unreal and formless as the blue oval of

water and black trees behind it, but Rezanov knew

that it enfolded warm and palpitating womanhood

and was steeped in the sweetness of Castilian roses.

The riders, who had taken a path far to the east

of the Mission dismounted and tied their horses

among the willows, then, in their dark cloaks but a

part of the shadows, stole toward the wall designed

to impress hostile tribes rather than to resist on-

slaught; at the first warning the settlement invari-

ably fled to the church, where walls were massive

and windows high.

In three of Moraga's four walls was a grille, or

wicket of slender iron bars, whence the open could

be swept with glass, or gun at a pinch; and toward

the grille looking eastward went Rezanov as swiftly

as the uneven ground would permit. As Concha

watched him gather form in the moonlight and saw

him jerk his cloak off impatiently, she flung her

soft body against the wall and shook the bars with

her strong little hands. But when he faced her she

was erect and smiling; in a sudden uprush of spirits,

almost indifferent. She wore a white gown and a

rose in her hair. A rosebush as dense as an

arbor spread its prickly arms between herself and

the windows of the house.

"Good-evening," she whispered.

Rezanov gave the grill an angry shake. (San-

tiago had considerately retired.) "Come out," he

said peremptorily, "or let me in."

"There is but one gate, senor, and that is directly

in front of the house door, that stands open--"

"Then I shall get over the wall--"

"Madre de Dios! You would leave your fine

clothes and more on the thorns. My cousin planted

those roses not for ornament, but to let the blood of

defiant lovers. Not one has come twice--"

"Do you think I came here to talk to you through

a grating? I am no serenading Spaniard."

His eyes were blazing. Adobe is not stone.

Rezanov took the light bars in both hands and

wrenched them out; then, as Concha, divided be-

tween laughter and a sudden timidity, would have

retreated, he dexterously clasped her neck and drew

her head through the embrasure. As Santiago,

who had watched Rezanov from a distance with

some curiosity, saw his sister's beautiful face

emerge from the wall to disappear at once behind

another rampart, he turned abruptly on his heel and

could have wept as he thought of Pilar Ortego of

Santa Barbara. But there was a hope that he would

be a cadet of the Southern Company before the year

was out, and his parents and hers were indulgent.

Even as he sighed, his own impending happiness in-

fused him with an almost patronizing sympathy for

the twain with the wall between, and he concealed

himself among the willows that they might feel to

the full the blessed isolation of lovers. His Pilar

presented him with twenty-two hostages, and he

lived to enjoy an honorable and prosperous career,

but he never forgot that night and the part he had

played in one of the poignant and happy hours of

his sister's life.

Day and night a great silence reigned in the Mis-

sion valley, broken only by the hoot of the owl, the

singing of birds, the flight of horses across the

plain. Even the low huddle of Mission buildings

and the few homes beyond looked an anomaly in

that vast quiet valley asleep and unknown for so

many centuries in the wide embrace of the hills. Its

jewel oasis alone made it acceptable to the Spaniard,

but to Rezanov the sandy desert, with its close com-

panionable silences, its cool night air sweet with

the light chaste fragrance of the roses, the simple,

almost primitive, conditions environing the girl,

possessed a power to stir the depths of his emotions

as no artful reinforcement to passion had ever

done. He forgot the wall. His ego melted in a

sense of complete union and happiness. Even when

they returned to earth and discussed the dubious

future, he was conscious of an odd resignation,

very alien in his nature, not only to the barrier but

to all the strange conditions of his wooing. He

had felt something of this before, although less defi-

nitely, and to-night he concluded that she had the

gift of clothing the inevitable with the semblance

and the sweetness of choice; and wondered how

long it would be able to skirt the arid steppes of

philosophy.

She told him that she had talked daily with

Father Abella. "He will say nothing to admit he is

weakening, but I feel sure he has realized not only

that our marriage will be for the best interests of

California, but that to forbid it would wreck my

life; and from this responsibility he shrinks. I can

see it in his kind, shrewd, perplexed eyes, in the

hesitating inflections of his voice, to say nothing of

the poor arguments he advances to mine. What of

my father and mother?"

"They look troubled, almost ill, but nothing could

exceed their kindness to me, although they have

pointedly given me no opportunity to introduce the

subject of our marriage again. The Governor

makes no sign that he knows of any aspiration of

mine above corn, but he informed me to-day that

California is doomed to abandonment, that the In-

dians are hopeless, that Spain will withdraw troops

before she will send others, and that the country

will either revert to savagery or fall a prey to the

first enterprising outsider. As he was in compari-

son cheerful before, I fancy he apprehends the irre-

sistible appeal of your father's surrender."

Concha nodded. "If my father yields he will see

that you have everything else that you wish. He

may have advocated meeting your wishes in other

respects in order to leave you without excuse to lin-

ger, but that argument is not strong enough for the

Governor, whereas if he made up his mind to ac-

cept you as a son he would throw the whole force

of his character and will into the scale; and when

he reaches that pitch he wins--with men. I must,

must bring you good fortune," she added anxiously.

"Marriage with a little California girl--are you

sure it will not ruin your career?"

"I can think of nothing that would advantage it

more. What are you going to call me?"

"I cannot say Petrovich or Nicolai--my Spanish

tongue rebels. I shall call you Pedro. That is a

very pretty name with us."

"My own harsh names suit my battered self

rather better, but the more Californian you are and

remain the happier I shall be. When am I to see

your ears? Are they deformed, pointed and furry

like a fawn's? Do they stand out? Were all the

women of California tattooed in some Indian

raid--"

Concha glanced about apprehensively, but not

even Santiago was there to see the dreadful deed.

With a defiant sweep of her hands she lifted both

loops of hair, and two little ears, rosy even in the

moonlight, commanded amends and more from

penitent lips.

"No man has ever seen them before--since I

was a baby; not even my father and brothers," said

Concha, trembling between horror and rapture at

the tremendous surrender. "You will never remind

me of it. Ay yi! promise--Pedro mio!"

"On condition that you promise not to confess

it. I should like to be sure that your mind belonged

as much to me and as little to others as possible. I

do not object to confession--we have it in our

church; but remember that there are other things

as sacred as your religion."

She nodded. "I understand--better than you

understand Romanism. I must confess that I met

you to-night, but Father Abella is too discreet to

ask for more. It is such blessed memories that feed

the soul, and they would fly away on a whisper."

The next morning Father Abella rode over to the

Presidio and was closeted for an hour with the

Commandante and the Governor. Then the three

rode down to the beach, entered a canoe, and paddled

out to the Juno. Rezanov met them on deck with a

gravity as significant as their own, but led them

at once to the cabin where wine, and the cigarettes

for which alone they would have counselled the

treaty, awaited them.

The quartette pledged each other in an embar-

rassed silence, disposed of a moment more with ob-

durate matches. Don Jose inhaled audibly, then

lifted his eyes and met the veiled and steady gaze of

the Russian.

"Senor," he said, "I have come to tell you that I

consent to your marriage with my daughter."

"Thank you," said Rezanov. And their hands

clasped across the table.

But this was far too simple for the taste of a

Governor. So important an occasion demanded

official dignity and many words.

"Your excellency," he said severely, sitting very

erect, with one white hand on the table and the

other on the hilt of his sword (yet full of courtesy,

and longing to enjoy the cheer and conversation of

his host); "the peaceful monotony of our lives has

been rudely shaken by a demand upon three fallible

human beings to alter the course of history in two

great nations. That is a sufficient excuse for the

suspense to which we have been forced to subject

you. The marriage of a Russian and a Spaniard is

of no great moment in itself, but the marriage of

the Plenipotentiary of the Tsar himself with the

daughter of Jose Mario Arguello, not only one of

the most eminent, respected, and distinguished of

His Most Catholic Majesty's subjects in New Spain,

but a man so beloved and influential that he could

create a revolution were he so minded--indeed,

Jose, no one knows better than I how incapable you

are of treason"--as the Commandante gave a loud

exclamation of horror--"I merely illustrate and

emphasize. My sands are nearly run, Excellency;

it is to the estimable mind and strong paternal hand

of my friend that this miserable colony must look

before long, would she continue even this hand to

mouth existence--a fact well known to our king

and natural lord. When he hears of this projected

alliance--"

"Projected?" exclaimed Rezanov. "I wish to

marry at once."

Father Abella shook his head vigorously, but he

spoke with great kindness. "That, Excellency, alas,

is the one point upon which we are forced to dis-

appoint you. Indeed, our own submission to your

wishes is contingent. This marriage cannot take

place without a dispensation from Rome and the

consent of the King."

Rezanov looked at Don Jose. "You, too?" he

asked curtly.

The Commandante stirred uneasily, heaved a deep

sigh; he thought of the long impatience of his Con-

cha. "It is true," he said. "Not only would it

be impossible for my conscience to resign itself to

the marriage of my daughter with a heretic--par-

don, Excellency--without the blessing of the Pope;

not only would no priest in California perform the

ceremony until it arrived, but it would mean the

degradation of Governor Arrillaga and myself, and

the ruin of all your other hopes. We should be

ordered summarily to Mexico, perhaps worse, and

no Russian would ever be permitted to set foot in

the Californias again. I would it were otherwise.

I know--I know--but it is inevitable. Your excel-

lency must see it. Even were you a Catholic, Gov-

ernor Arrillaga and the President of the Missions,

at least, would not dare to countenance this mar-

riage without the consent of the King."

Rezanov was silent for a few minutes. In spite

of the emotions of the past few days he was aston-

ished at the depth and keenness of his disappoint-

ment. But never yet had he failed to realize when

he was beaten, nor to trim his sails without loss

of precious time.

"Very well," he said. "I will go to St. Peters-

burg at the earliest possible moment, obtain personal

letters from the Tsar and proceed post haste to

Rome and Madrid. At the same time I shall

arrange for the treaty with full authority from the

Tsar. Then I shall sail from Spain to Mexico and

reach here as soon as may be. It will take a long

while, the best part of two years; but I have your

word--"

"You have," the three asserted with solemn em-

phasis.

"Very well. But there is one thing more. I am

not in a diplomatic humor. My Sitkans are starv-

ing. I must leave here with a shipload of bread-

stuffs."

Again the Governor drew up his slim soldierly

figure; deposited his cigarette on the malachite ash

tray. "You may be sure that we have given that

momentous question our deepest consideration.

Father Abella's suggestion that we buy your com-

modities for cash, and that with our Spanish dol-

lars you buy again of us, did not strike me favor-

ably at first, for it savored of sophistry. I may have

failed in every attempt to benefit and advance this

Godforsaken country, but at least I have been the

honest agent of my King. But the circumstances

are extraordinary. You are about to become one of

us, to do our unhappy colony the greatest service

that is in the power of any mortal, and personally

you have inspired us with affection and respect. I

have, therefore, decided that the exchange shall be

made on these terms, but that your cargo shall be

received by Don Jose Arguello, Commandante of

the San Francisco Company, and held in trust until

the formal consent of the King to the purchase shall

arrive."

Rezanov glowed to his finger tips. Not even the

assurance of his union with the woman of his heart,

which after all had met but the skeleton of his de-

sires, gave him the acute satisfaction of this sud-

den fulfilment of his self-imposed mission. He

dropped his own official demeanor and throwing

himself across the table gripped the Governor's

hand while he poured out his thanks in a voice thick

with feeling, his eyes glittering with more than vic-

tory. He did not lose sight of his ultimate designs

and pledge himself to external friendship, but he un-

wittingly conveyed the impression that Spain had

that day made a friend she ill could afford to lose;

and his three visitors rose well pleased with the cul-

mination of the interview.

"You must stay here no longer, Rezanov," said

Don Jose, as they were taking leave. "My house is

now literally your own. It will be some weeks be-

fore the large quantities of corn and flour and other

stores you wish can be got together--for we must

lay a requisition on the fertile Mission ranchos in

the valleys--and you will exchange these narrow

quarters for such poor comfort as my house affords

--I take no denial. Concha will remain at Juan

Moraga's for the present."

XXI

Concha, after her father left her, sat for a long

while in an attitude of such complete repose that

Sturgis, watching her miserably from the veranda,

remembered the consolations of his sketch book;

and he was able to counterfeit the graceful, proud

figure, under the wall and roses, before she stirred.

Concha had sent her father away deeply puzzled.

When, after embracing her with unusual emotion,

he had informed her of his consent to her marriage,

she had received the news as a matter of course,

her hopes and desires having mounted too high to

contemplate a fall. Then the Commandante, after

dwelling at some length upon his discussions with

the Governor and the priests, and admonishing her

against conceiving herself too important a factor in

what might prove to be an alliance of international

moment (she had laughed merrily and called him

the most callous of parents and subtlest of diplo-

mats), had announced with some trepidation and his

most official manner that the consent of the Pope

and the King would be sought by Rezanov in per-

son, involving a delay and separation of not less

than two years. But to his surprise she did not fling

herself upon his neck with blandishments and tears.

She merely became quite still, her light high spirits

retreating as a breeze might before one of Nature's

sudden and portentous calms. Don Jose, after a

fruitless attempt to recapture her interest, mounted

his horse and rode away; and Concha sat down on

a bench under the wall and thought for an hour

without moving a finger.

Her first sensation was one of bitter anger and

disappointment with Rezanov. He had, apparently,

in the first brief interview with their tribunal, given

his consent to this long delay of their nuptials.

Her thoughts since his advent had flown on many

journeys and known little rest. She had been rudely

awakened and stripped of her girlish illusions in

those days and nights of battle between pride and

her dazzled womanhood when, in the new humility

of love, she believed herself to be but one of a hun-

dred pretty girls in the eyes of this accomplished and

fortunate Russian. The interval had been brief,

but not long enough for the grandeur in her nature to

awaken almost concurrently with her passions, and

she had planned a life, in which, guided and uplifted

by the star of fidelity, and delivered from the friv-

olous and commonplace temptations of other wom-

en, she should devote herself to the improvement

and instruction not only of the Indians but of the

youth of her own class. The schools founded by the

estimable and enterprising Borica had practically

disappeared, and she was by far the best educated

woman in California. For such there was a mani-

fest and an inexorable duty. She would live to be

old, she supposed, like all the Arguellos and

Moragas; but hidden in her unspotted soul would

be the flame of eternal youth, fed by an ideal and

a memory that would outlive her weary, insignifi-

cant body. And in it she would find her courage

and her inspiration, as well as an unwasting sym-

pathy for those she taught.

Then had come the sudden and passionate woo-

ing of Rezanov. All other ideals and aspirations

had fled. She had alternated between the tragic

extremes of bliss and despair. So completely did

the ardor of her nature respond to his, so fierce and

primitive was the cry of her ego for its mate, that

she cared nothing for the distress of her parents

nor the fate of California. There is no love com-

plete without this early and absolute selfishness,

which is merely the furious determination of the

race to accomplish its object before the spirit

awakens and the passions cool.

Last night life had seemed serious; she had been

girlishly, romantically happy. It is true that her

heart had thumped against the wall as he kissed her,

and that she had been full of a wild desire to sing,

although she could hardly shape and utter the words

that danced in her throbbing brain. But she had

been conscious through it all of the romantic circum-

stance, of the lonely beauty of the night, of the de-

lightful wickedness of meeting her lover in the si-

lence and the dark, even with a wall ten feet high be-

tween them. For the wall, indeed, she had been

confusedly and deliciously grateful.

And this was what a man's love came to: ardors

by night and expedience by day! Or was it merely

that Rezanov was the man of affairs always, the

lover incidentally? But how could a man who had

seemed the very epitome of all the lovers of all the

world but a few hours before, contemplate, far less

permit, a separation of years? Poor Concha groped

toward the great unacceptable fact of life the whole,

lit by love its chief incident; and had a fleeting

vision of the waste lands in the lives of women oc-

cupied only with matrimony. But she dropped her

lashes upon this unalluring vision, and as she did so,

inevitably she began to excuse the man.

None knew better than she every side of the great

question that was shaking not only her life but Cali-

fornia itself. Appeal from the dictum of state and

clergy would be a mere waste of time. The only

alternative was flight. That would mean the wreck

of Rezanov's avowed purposes in coming to this

quarter of New Spain, and perhaps of others she

dimly suspected. It would mean the very acme of

misery for his Sitkans, and an indefensible blow to

the Company. It might even prove the fatal mistake

in his career, for which his enemies were ever on the

alert. He was not communicative about himself

except when he had an object in view, but he had

told her something of his life, and his officers and

Langsdorff had told more. He was no silly cabal-

lero warbling and thrumming at her grating when

she longed for sleep, but a man in his forties whose

passions were in the leash of a remarkably acute

and ambitious brain. She even thrilled with pride

in his strength, for she knew how he loved her; and

although his part was action, her stimulated in-

stincts taught her that she would rarely be long from

his mind. And what was she to seek to roll

stumbling blocks into the career of a man like that?

In this very garden, for four long days, she had

dreamed exalted dreams of the manifold gifts she

should develop for his solace at home and his

worldly advancement. She had once felt all a

girl's impatience when her mother's tears made her

father's departure on some distant mission more

difficult than need be, and although she knew now

that her capacity for tenderness was as great, she

resolved to mould herself in a larger shape than

that.

But she sighed and drooped a little. The burden

of woman's waiting seemed already to have de-

scended upon her. Two years were long--long.

There might be other delays. He might fall ill; he

had been ill before in that barbarous Russian north.

And in all that time it was doubtful if she received

a line from him, a hint of his welfare. The Boston

and British skippers came no more, and it was cer-

tain that no Russian ship would visit California

again until the treaty was signed and official news

of it had made its slow way to these uttermost

shores. She had resented, in her young ambition

and indocility, the chance that had stranded her,

equipped for civilization, on this rim of the world,

but never so much as in that moment, when she sat

with arrested breath and realized to the full the

primitive conditions of a country thousands of miles

from the very outposts of Europe, and with never

the sight of a letter that did not come from Spain

or one of her colonies.

"Would that we lived a generation later," she

thought with a heavy sigh. Progress is almost

automatic, and to a land as fertile and desirable as

this the stream must turn in due course. But not

in my time. Not in my time."

She rose and leaned her elbows in the embrasure

of the grille, where Santiago had restored the bars,

and looked out over the fields of grain planted by

the padres, the immense sand dunes beyond that

shut the lovely bay from sight; the hills embracing

the primitive scene in a frowning arc. With all her

imagination it was long before she could picture a

great city covering that immense and almost deserted

space. A pueblo in time, perhaps, for Rezanov had

awakened her mind to the importance of the har-

bor as a port of call. Many more adobe homes

where the sand was not hot and shifting, a few

ships in the bay when Spain had been compelled to

relax her jealous vigilance--or--who knew?--per-

haps!--a flourishing colony when the Russian bear

had devoured the Spanish lion. She knew some-

thing and suspected more of the rottenness and in-

efficiency of Spain, and, were Russia a nation of

Rezanovs, what opposition in California against the

tide thundering down from the north? Then, per-

haps, the city that had travelled from the brain of

the Russian to hers when the fog had rolled over

the heights; the towers and palaces and bazaars, the

thousand little golden domes with the slender cross

atop; the forts on the crags and the villas in the

hollows, and on all the island and hills. But when

she and her lover were dust. When she and her

lover were dust.

But she was too young and too ardent to listen

long to the ravens of the spirit. Two years are not

eternity, and in happiness the past rolls together like

a scroll and is naught. She fell to dreaming. Her

lips that had been set with the gravity of stone re-

laxed in warm curves. The color came back to her

cheek, the light to her eyes. She was a girl at her

grating with the roses poignant above her, and the

world, radiant, alluring, and all for her, swimming

in the violet haze beyond.

XXII

Rezanov in those days was literally lord and mas-

ter at the Presidio. If he did not burn the house of

his devoted host he ran it to suit himself. He

turned one of its rooms into an office, where he re-

ceived the envoys from the different Missions and

examined the samples of everything submitted to

him, trusting little to his commissary. His leisure

he employed scouring the country or shooting deer

and quail in the company of his younger hosts. The

literal mind of Don Jose accepted him as an actual

son and embryonic California, and, his conscience

at peace, revelled in his society as a sign from

propitiated heaven; rejoicing in the virtue of his

years. The Governor, testily remarking that as

California was so well governed for the present he

would retire to Monterey and take a siesta, rode off

one morning, but not without an affectionate: "God

preserve the life of your excellency many years."

But although Rezanov saw the most sanguine

hopes that had brought him to California fulfilled,

and although he looked from the mountain ridges

of the east over the great low valleys watered by

rivers and shaded by oaks, where enough grain

could be raised to keep the blood red in a thousand

times the colonial population of Russia, although he

felt himself in more and more abundant health, more

and more in love with life, it is not to be supposed

for a moment that he was satisfied. Concha he

barely saw. She remained with the Moragas, and

although she came occasionally to the afternoon

dances at the Presidio, and he had dined once at

her cousin's house, where the formal betrothal had

taken place and the marriage contract had been

signed in the presence of her family and more inti-

mate friends, the priests, his officers, and the Gov-

ernor, he had not spoken with her for a moment

alone. Nor had her eyes met his in a glance of

understanding. At the dances she showed him no

favor; and as the engagement was to be as secret

as might be in that small community, until his re-

turn with consent of Pope and King, he was forced

to concede that her conduct was irreproachable; but

when on the day of the betrothal she was oblivious

to his efforts to draw her into the garden, he

mounted his horse and rode off in a huff.

The truth was that Concha liked the present

arrangement no better than himself, and knowing

that her own appeal against the proprieties would

result in a deeper seclusion, she determined to goad

him into using every resource of address and subtlety

to bring about a more human state of affairs. And

she accomplished her object. Rezanov, at the end

of a week was not only infuriated but alarmed. He

knew the imagination of woman, and guessed that

Concha, in her brooding solitude, distorted all that

was unfortunate in the present and dwelt morbidly

on the future. He knew that she must resent his

part in the long separation, no doubt his lack of im-

pulsiveness in not proposing elopement. There was

a priest in his company who, although he ate below

the salt and found his associates among the sailors,

could have performed the ceremony of marriage

when the Juno, under full sail in the night, was

scudding for the Russian north. It is not to be

denied that this romantic alternative appealed to

Rezanov, and had it not been for the starving

wretches so eagerly awaiting his coming he might

have been tempted to throw commercial relations to

the winds and flee with his bride while San Fran-

cisco, secure in the knowledge of the Juno's empty

hold, was in its first heavy sleep. It is doubtful if

he would have advanced beyond impulse, for Rez-

anov was not the man to lose sight of a purpose to

which he had set the full strength of his talents,

and life had tempered his impetuous nature with

much philosophy. Moreover, while his conscience

might ignore the double dealing necessary to the ac-

complishment of patriotic or political acts, it re-

volted at the idea of outwitting, possibly wrecking,

his trusting and hospitable host. But the mere

fact that his imagination could dwell upon such an

issue as reckless flight, inflamed his impatience, and

his desire to see Concha daily during these last few

weeks of propinquity. Finally, he sought the co-

operation of Father Abella--Santiago was in Mon-

terey--and that wise student of maids and men

gave him cheer.

On Thursday afternoon there was to take place

the long delayed Indian dance and bull-bear fight;

not in the Presidio, but at the Mission, the pride of

the friars inciting them to succeed where the mili-

tary authorities had failed. All the little world of

San Francisco had been invited, and it would be

strange if in the confusion between performance

and supper a lover could not find a moment alone

with his lady.

The elements were kind to the padres. The after-

noon was not too hot, although the sun flooded the

plain and there was not a cloud on the dazzling blue

of the sky. Never had the Mission and the man-

sions looked so white, their tiles so red. The trees

were blossoming pink and white in the orchards, the

lightest breeze rippled the green of the fields; and

into this valley came neither the winds nor the fogs

of the ocean.

The priests and their guests of honor sat on the

long corridor beside the church; the soldiers, sailors,

and Indians of Presidio and Mission forming the

other three sides of a hollow square. The Indian

women were a blaze of color. The ladies on the

corridor wore their mantillas, jewels, and the gay-

est of artificial flowers. There were as many fans

as women. Rezanov sat between Father Abella and

the Commandante, and not being in the best of

tempers had never looked more imposing and re-

mote. Concha, leaning against one of the pillars,

stole a glance at him and wondered miserably if this

haughty European had really sought her hand, if it

were not a girl's foolish dream. But Concha's

humble moments at this period of her life were rare,

and she drew herself up proudly, the blood of the

proudest race in Europe shaking angrily in her

veins. A moment later, in response to a power

greater than any within herself, she turned again.

The attention of the hosts and guests was riveted

upon the preliminary antics of the Indian dancers,

and Rezanov seized the opportunity to lean forward

unobserved and gaze at the girl whom it seemed to

him he saw for the first time in the full splendor of

her beauty. She wore a large mantilla of white

Spanish lace. In the fashion of the day it rose at

the back almost from the hem of her gown to de-

scend in a point over the high comb to her eyes.

The two points of the width were gathered at her

breast, defining the outlines of her superb figure,

and fastened with one large Castilian rose sur-

rounded by its mass of tiny sharp buds and dull

green leaves. As the familiar scent assailed Rez-

anov's nostrils they tingled and expanded. His

lids were lifted and his eyes glowing as he finally

compelled her glance, and her own eyes opened

with an eager flash; her lips parted and her should-

ers lost their haughty poise. For a moment their

gaze lingered in a perfect understanding; his ill-

humor vanished, and he leaned back with a compli-

mentary remark as Father Abella directed his atten-

tion to the most agile of the Indians.

The swart natives of both sexes with their thick

features and long hair were even more hideous than

usual in bandeaux of bright feathers, scant gar-

ments made from the breasts of water-fowls,

rattling strings of shells, and tattooing on arm and

leg no longer concealed by the decorous Mission

smock. Rezanov had that day sent them presents

of glass beads and ribbons, and in these they took

such extravagant pride that for some time their

dancing was almost automatic.

But soon their blood warmed, and after the first

dance, which was merely a series of measured

springs on the part of the men and a beating of time

by the women, a large straw figure symbolizing an

entire hostile tribe was brought in, and about this

pranced the men with savage cries and gestures, ad-

vancing, attacking, retreating, finally piercing it with

their arrows and marching it off with sharp yells

of triumph that reverberated among the hills; the

women never varying from a loud monotonous

chant.

There was a peaceful interlude, during which the

men, holding bow and arrow aloft, hopped up and

down on one spot, the women hopping beside them

and snapping thumb and forefinger on the body,

still singing in the same high measured voice. But

while they danced a great bonfire was laid and

kindled. The gyrations lasted a few minutes longer,

then the chief seized a live ember and swallowed it.

His example was immediately followed by his tribe,

and, whether to relieve discomfort or with energies

but quickened, they executed a series of incredible

handsprings and acrobatic capers. When they

finally whirled away on toes and finger tips, another

chief, in the horns and hide of a deer, rushed in,

pursued by a party of hunters. For several mo-

ments he perfectly simulated a hunted animal

lurking and dodging in high grass, behind trees,

venturing to the brink of a stream to drink, search-

ing eagerly for his mate; and when he finally escaped

it was amidst the most enthusiastic plaudits as yet

evoked.

After an hour of this varied performance, the

square was enlarged by several mounted vaqueros

galloping about with warning cries and much flour-

ishing of lassos. They were the cattle herders of

the Mission ranch just over the hills, and were in

gala attire of black glazed sombrero with silver

cord, white shirt open at the throat, short black vel-

vet trousers laced with silver, red sash and high yel-

low boots. Four, pistol in hand, stationed them-

selves in front of the corridor, while the others rode

out and in again, dragging a bear and a bull, with

hind legs attached by two yards of rope. The cap-

tors left the captives in the middle of the square,

and without more ado the serious sport of the day

began. The bull, with stomach empty and hide in-

flamed, rushed at the bear, furious from captivity,

with such a roar that the Indian women screamed

and even the men shuffled their feet uneasily. But

neither combatant was interested in aught but the

other. The one sought to gore, his enemy to strike

or hug. The vaqueros teased them with arrows

and cries, the dust flew; for a few moments there

was but a heaving, panting, lashing bulk in the

middle of the arena, and then the bull, his tongue

torn out, rolled on his back, and another was driven

in before the victor could wreak his unsated ven-

geance among the spectators. The bear, dragging

the dead bull, rushed at the living, who, unmartial

at first, stiffened to the defensive as he saw a bulk

of wiry fur set with eyes of fire, almost upon him.

He sprang aside, lowered his horn and caught the

bear in the chest. But the victor was a compact

mass of battle and momentum. His onslaught

flung the bear over backward, and quickly disen-

gaging himself he made another leap at his equally

agile enemy. This time the battle was longer and

more various, for the bull was smaller, more active

and dexterous. Twice he almost had the bear on his

horns, but was rolled, only saving his neck and back

from the fury of the mountain beast by such kick-

ing and leaping that both combatants were indis-

tinguishable from the whirlwind of dust. Out of

this they would emerge to stand panting in front

of each other with tongues pendant and red eyes

rolling. Finally the bear, nearly exhausted, made

a sudden charge, the bull leaped aside, backed again

with incredible swiftness, caught the bear in the

belly, tossed him so high that he met the hard earth

with a loud cracking of bone. The vaqueros circled

about the maddened bull, set his hide thick with ar-

rows, tripped him with the lasso. A wiry little

Mexican in yellow, galloping in on his mustang, ad-

ministered the coup de grace amidst the wild

applause of the spectators, whose shouting and

clapping and stamping might have been heard by

the envious guard at the Presidio and Yerba Buena.

As the party on the corridor broke, Rezanov

found no difficulty in reaching Concha's side, for

even Dona Ignacia was chattering wildly with sev-

eral other good dames who renewed their youth

briefly at the bull-fight.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked curiously.

"I did not look at it. I never do. But I know

that you were not affronted. You never took your

eyes from those dreadful beasts."

"I am exhilarated to know that you watched me.

Yes, at a bull-fight the primitive man in me has its

way, although I have the grace to be ashamed of

myself afterward. In that I am at least one degree

more civilized than your race, which never repents."

The door of one of the smaller rooms stood open,

and as they took advantage of this oversight with

a singular concert of motive, he clasped both her

hands in his. "Are you angry with me?" he asked

softly. He dared not close the door, but his back

was square against it, and the other guests were

moving down to the refectory.

"For liking such horrid sport?"

"We have no time to waste in coquetry."

Her eyes melted, but she could not resist planting

a dart. "Not now--I quite understand: love could

never be first with you. And two years are not so

long. They quickly pass when one is busy. I shall

find occupation, and you will have no time for long-

ings and regrets."

They were not yet alone, women were talking in

their light, high voices not a yard away. The hin-

drance, and her new loveliness in the soft mantilla,

the pink of the roses reflected in her throat, the

provocative curl of her mouth, sent the blood to his

head.

"You have only to say the word," he said

hoarsely, "and the Juno will sail to-night."

Never before had she seen his face so unmasked.

Her voice shook in triumph and response.

"Would you? Would you?"

"Say the word!"

"You would sacrifice all--the Company--your

career--your Sitkans?"

"All--everything." His own voice shook with

more than passion, for even in that moment he

counted the cost, but he did not care.

But Concha detected that second break in his

voice, and turned her head sadly.

"You would not say that to-morrow. I hate my-

self that I made you say it now. I love you enough

to wait forever, but I have not the courage to hand

you over to your enemies."

"You are strangely far-sighted for a young girl."

And between admiration and pique, his ardor suf-

fered a chill.

"I am no longer a young girl. In these last days

it has seemed to me that secrets locked in my brain,

secrets of women long dead, but of whose essence I

am, have come forth to the light. I have suffered

in anticipation. My mind has flown--flown--I

have lived those two years until they are twenty,

thirty, and I have lived on into old age here by the

sea, watching, watching--"

She had dropped all pretence of coquetry and

was speaking with a passionate forlornness. But

before he could interrupt her, take advantage of the

retreating voices that left them alone at last, she

had drawn herself up and moved a step away. "Do

not think, however," she said proudly, "that I am

really as weak and silly as that. It was only a

mood. Should you not return I should grieve, yes;

and should I live as long as is common with my

race, still would my heart remain young with your

image, and with the fidelity that would be no less a

religion than that of my church. But I should not

live a selfish life, or I should be unworthy of my

election to experience a great and eternal passion.

Memory and the life of the imagination would be

my solace, possibly in time my happiness, but my

days I should give to this poor little world of ours;

and all that one mortal, and that a woman, has to

bestow upon a stranded and benighted people. It

may not be much, but I make you that promise,

senor, that you will not think me a foolish, romantic

girl, unworthy of the great responsibilities you have

offered me."

"Concha!" He was deeply moved, and at the

same time her words chilled him with subtle

prophecy, sank into some unexplored depth of his

consciousness, meeting response as subtle, filling

him with impatience at the mortality of man. He

glanced over his shoulder, then took her recklessly

in his arms.

"Is it possible you doubt I will come back?" he

demanded. "My faith?"

"No, not that. But such happiness seems to me

too great for this life."

He remembered how often he had been close to

death; he knew that during the greater part of the

next two years he should see the glimmer of the

scythe oftener yet. For a moment it seemed to

him that he felt the dark waters rise in his soul,

heard the jeers of the gods at the vanity of mortal

will. But the blood ran strong and warm in his

veins. He shook off the obsession, and smiled a

little cynically, even as he kissed her.

"This is the hour for romance, my dear. In the

years to come, when you are very prosaically my

wife with a thousand duties, and grumbling at my

exactions, your consolation will be the memory of

some moment like this, when you were able to feel

romantic and sad. I wish I could arrange for

some such set of memories for myself, but I am

unequal to your divine melancholy. When I can-

not see you I am cross and sulky; and just now--I

am, well--philosophically happy. Some day I shall

be happier, but this is well enough. And I can har-

bor no ugly presentiments. As I entered California

I was elated with a sense of coming happiness, of

future victories; and I prefer to dwell upon that,

the more particularly as in a measure the prophetic

hint has been fulfilled. So make the most of the

present. I shall see you daily during this last

precious fortnight, for I am determined this

arrangement shall cease; and you must exorcise

coquetry and abet me whenever there is a chance

of a word alone."

She nodded, but she noted with a sigh that he

said no more of sudden flight. She would never

have consented to jeopardize the least of his inter-

ests, but she fain would have been besought.

The experience she had had of the vehemence

and fire in Rezanov made her long for his complete

subjugation and the happiness it must bring to her-

self. But as he smiled tenderly above her she saw

that his practical brain had silenced the irresponsible

demands of love, and although she did not with-

draw from his arms she stiffened her head.

"I fancy I shall return home to-morrow," she

said. "My mother tells me that she can live with-

out me no longer, and that Father Abella has re-

minded her that if I stay in the house of Elena Cas-

tro I shall be as free from gossip as here. I infer

that he has rated my two parents for making a

martyr of me unnecessarily, and told them it was

a duty to enliven my life as much as possible before

I enter upon this long period of probation. The grat-

ing of my room at Elena's is above a little strip of

Garden, and faces the blank wall of the next house.

Sometimes--who knows?" She shrugged her

shoulders and gave a gay little laugh, then stood

very erect and moved past him to the door. She

had recognized the shuffling step of Father Abella.

"Is supper ready, padre mio?" she asked sweetly.

"His excellency and I have talked so much that we

are very hungry."

"There is no need to deceive me," said Father

Abella dryly. "You are not the first lovers I have

known, although I will admit you are by far the

most interesting, and for that reason I have had the

wickedness to abet you. But I fancy the good God

will forgive me. Come quickly. They are scat-

tered now, but will go to the refectory in a moment

and miss you. Excellency, will you give your arm

to Dona Ignacia and take the seat at the head of the

table? Concha, my child, I am afraid you must

console our good Don Weeliam. He is having a

wretched quarter of an hour, but has loyally diverted

the attention of your mother."

"That is the vocation of certain men," said Con-

cha lightly.

XXIII

Life was very gay for a fortnight. An hour after

the Commandante's surrender he had despatched

invitations to all the young folk of the gente de

razon of Monterey, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles,

and San Diego, and to such of the older as would

brave the long journeys. The Monterenos had

arrived for the Mission entertainment, and during

the next few days the rest poured over the hills:

De la Guerras, Xime'nos, Estudillos, Carrillos,

Este'negas, Morenos, Cotas, Estradas, Picos,

Pachecos, Lugos, Orte'gas, Alvarados, Bandinis,

Peraltas, members of the Luis, Rodriguez, Lopez

families, all of gentle blood, that made up the

society of Old California; as gay, arcadian, irre-

sponsible, yet moral a society as ever fluttered over

this planet. Every house in the Presidio and val-

ley, every spare room at the Mission, opened to

them with the exuberant hospitality of the country.

The caballeros had their finest wardrobes of col-

lored silks and embroidered botas, sombreros laden

with silver, fine lawn and lace, jewel and sash, vel-

vet serape for the chill of the late afternoon. The

matrons brought their stiff robes of red and yellow

satin, the girls as many flowered silks and lawns,

mantillas and rebosos, as the family carretas would

hold. The square of the Presidio was crowded

from morning until midnight with the spirited

horses of the country, prancing impatiently under

the heavy Mexican saddle, heavier with silver, made

a trifle more endurable by the blanket of velvet or

cloth. No Californian walked a dozen rods when

he had a horse to carry him.

But the horses were not always champing in the

square. There was more than one bull-bear fight,

and twice a week at least they carried their owners

to the hills of the Mission ranch, or the rocky cliffs

and gorges above Yerba Buena, the Indian servants

following with great baskets of luncheon, perhaps

roasting an ox whole in a trench. This the Cali-

fornians called barbecue and the picnic merienda.

There was dancing day and night, the tinkling of

guitars, flirting of fans. Rezanov vowed he would

not have believed there were so many fans and

guitars in the world, and suddenly remembered he

had never seen Concha with either. The lady of

his choice reigned supreme. Many had taken the

long blistering journey for no other purpose than

to see the famous beauty and her Russian; the en-

gagement was as well known as if cried from the

Mission top. The girls were surprised and de-

lighted to find Concha sweet rather than proud and

envied her with amiable enthusiasm. The cabal-

leros, fewer in number, for most of the men in

California at that period before a freer distribution

of land were on duty in the army, artfully ignored

the unavowed bond, but liked Rezanov when he took

the trouble to charm them.

Khostov and Davidov watched the loading of the

Juno with a lively regret. Never had they enjoyed

themselves more, nor seen so many pretty girls in

one place. Both had begun by falling in love with

Concha, and although they rebounded swiftly from

the blow to their hopes, it happily saved them from

a more serious dilemma; unwealthed and graceless

as they were, they would have been regarded with

little favor by the practical California father. As

it was, their pleasures were unpoisoned by regrets

or rebuffs. When they were not flirting in the dance

or in front of a lattice, receiving a lesson in Spanish

behind the portly back of a duena, or clasping brown

little fingers under cover of a fan when all eyes

were riveted on the death struggle of a bull and a

bear, they were playing cards and drinking in the

officers' quarters; which they liked almost as well.

It is true they sometimes paid the price in a cutting

rebuke from their chief, but the rebukes were not

as frequent as in less toward circumstances, and were

generally followed by some fresh indulgence. This,

they uneasily guessed, was not only the result of

the equable state of his excellency's temper, but be-

cause he had a signal unpleasantness in store, and

would not hazard their resignation. They had

taken advantage of an imperial ukase to enter the

service of the Russian-American Company tempor-

arily, and they knew that if they evaded any be-

hest of Rezanov's their adventurous life in the Pa-

cific would be over. Therefore, although they re-

sented his implacable will, they pulled with him in

outward amity; and indeed there were few of the

Juno's human freight that did not look back upon

that California springtime as the episode of their

lives, commonly stormy or monotonous, in which

the golden tide flowed with least alloy. Even

Langsdorff, although impervious to female charms

and with scientific thirst unslaked, enjoyed the

Spanish fare and the society of the priests. The

sailors received many privileges, attended bull-fights

and fandangos, loved and pledged; and were only

restrained from emigration to the interior of this

enchanted land of pretty girls and plentiful food

by the knowledge of the sure and merciless venge-

ance of their chief. Had the rumor of war still held

it might have been otherwise, but that raven had

flown off to the limbo of its kind, and the Com-

mandante let it be known that deserters would be

summarily captured and sent in irons to the Juno.

In the mind of Concha Arguello there was never

a lingering doubt of the quality of that fortnight

between the days of torturing doubts and acute emo-

tional upheaval, and the sailing away of Rezanov.

It was true that what he banteringly termed her

romantic sadness possessed her at times, but it

served as a shadow to throw into sharper relief an

almost incredible happiness. If she seldom saw

Rezanov alone there was the less to disturb her, and

at least he was never far from her side. There were

always the delight of unexpected moments unseen,

whispered words in the crowd, the sense of com-

plete understanding, broken now and again by poig-

nant attacks of unreasoning jealousy, not only on

her part but his; quite worth the reconciliation at

the lattice, while Elena Castro, gentle duena, pitched

her voice high and amused her husband so well he

sought no opportunity for response.

Then there was more than one excursion about

the bay on the Juno, dinner on La Bellissima or

Nuestra Senora de los Angeles, a long return after

sundown that the southerners might appreciate the

splendor of the afterglow when the blue of the

water was reflected in the lower sky, to melt into

the pink fire above, and all the land swam in a pearly

mist.

Once the Commandante took twenty of his guests,

a gay cavalcade, to his rancho, El Pilar, thirty miles

to the south: a long valley flanked by the bay and

the eastern mountains on the one hand, and a high

range dense with forests of tall thin trees on the

other. But the valley itself was less Californian

than any part of the country Rezanov had seen.

Smooth and flat and free of undergrowth and set

with at least ten thousand oaks, it looked more like

a splendid English park, long preserved, than the

recent haunt of naked savages. There were deer

and quail in abundance, here and there an open field

of grain. Long beards of pale green moss waved

from the white oaks, wild flowers, golden red and

pale blue, burst underfoot. There were hedges of

sweet briar, acres of lupins, purple and yellow. Al-

together the ideal estate of a nobleman; and Reza-

nov, who had liked nothing in California so well,

gave his imagination rein and saw the counterpart

of the castle of his ancestors rise in the deep shade

of the trees.

Don Jose's house was a long rambling adobe, red

tiled, with many bedrooms and one immense hall.

Beyond were a chapel and a dozen outbuildings.

Dinner was served in patriarchal style in the hall,

the Commandante--or El padrone as he was known

here--and his guests at the upper end of the table;

below the salt, the vaqueros, their wives and chil-

dren, and the humble friar who drove them to

prayer night and morning. The friar wore his

brown robes, the vaqueros their black and silver

and red in honor of the company, their women glar-

ing handkerchiefs of green or red or yellow about

their necks, even pinned back and front on their

shapeless garments; and affording a fine vegetable

garden contrast to the delicate flower bed surround-

ing the padrone.

There was a race track on the ranch and many

fine horses. After siesta the company mounted

fresh steeds and rode off to applaud the feats of the

vaqueros, who, not content with climbing the greased

pole, wrenching the head of an unfortunate rooster

from his buried body as they galloped by, submit-

ting the tail of an oiled pig in full flight to the

same indignity, gave when these and other native

diversions were exhausted, such exhibitions of rid-

ing and racing as have never been seen out of Cali-

fornia. As lithe as willow wands, on slender horses

as graceful as themselves, they looked like meteors

springing through space, and there was no trick of

the circus they did not know by instinct, and trans-

late from gymnastics into poetry. Even Rezanov

shared the excitement of the shouting, clapping

Californians, and Concha laughed delightedly when

his cap waved with the sombreros.

"I think you will make a good Californian in

time," she said as they rode homeward.

"Perhaps," said Rezanov musingly. His eyes

roved over the magnificent estate and at the mo-

ment they entered a portion of it that deepened to

woods, so dense was the undergrowth, so thick the

oak trees. Here there was but a glimpse, now and

again, of the mountains swimming in the dark blue

mist of the late afternoon, the moss waved thickly

from the ancient trees; over even the higher branches

of many rolled a cascade of small brittle leaves, with

the tempting opulence of its poisonous sap. The

path was very abrupt, cut where the immense spread-

ing trees permitted, and Rezanov and Concha had

no difficulty in falling away from the chattering,

excited company.

"Tell me your ultimate plans, Pedro mio," said

Concha softly. "You are dreaming of something

this moment beyond corn and treaties."

"Do you want that final proof?" he asked, smil-

ing. "Well, if I could not trust you that would be

the end of everything, and I know that I can. I

have long regarded California as an absolutely

necessary field of supplies, and since I have come

here I will frankly say that could I, as the represen-

tative of the Tsar in all this part of the world, make

it practically my own, I should be content in even

a permanent exile from St. Petersburg. I could at-

tract an immense colony here and in time import

libraries and works of art, laying the foundation of

a great and important city on that fine site about

Yerba Buena. But now that these kind people have

practically adopted me I cannot repay their hospi-

tality by any overt act of hostility. I must be con-

tent either slowly to absorb the country, in which

case I shall see no great result in my lifetime, or--

and for this I hope--what with the mess Bonaparte

is making of Europe, every state may be at the

others' throat before long, including Russia and

Spain. At all events, a cause for rupture would

not be far to seek, and it would need no instigation

of mine to despatch a fleet to these shores. In that

case I should be sent with it to take possession in

the name of the Tsar, and to deal with these simple,

kind--and inefficient people, my dear girl--as no

other Russian could. They cannot hold this coun-

try. Spain could not--would not, at all events, for

she has not troops enough here to protect a territory

half its size--hold it against even the 'Americans,'

should they in time feel strong enough to push their

way across the western wilderness. It is the destiny

of this charming Arcadia to disappear; and did

Russia forego an opportunity to appropriate a do-

main that offers her literally everything except civil-

ization, she would be unworthy of her place among

nations. Moreover--a beneficent triumph impossi-

ble to us otherwise--with a powerful and flourish-

ing colony up and down this coast, and sending

breadstuffs regularly to our other possessions in

these waters until the natives, immigrants, and exiles

were healthy, vitalized beings, it would be but a

question of a few years before we should force open

the doors of China and Japan." He caught Concha

from her horse and strained her to him in the mount-

ing ardor of his plunge down the future. "You

must resent nothing!" he cried. "You must cease

to be a Spanish woman when you become my wife,

and help me as only you can in those inevitable

years I have mapped out; and not so much for

myself as for Russia. My enemies have sought to

persuade three sovereigns that I am a visionary, but

I have already accomplished much that met with

resentment and ridicule when I broached it. And I

know my powers! I tingle with the knowledge of

my ability to carry to a conclusion every plan I

have thought worth the holding when the ardor of

conception was over. I swear to you that death

alone--and I believe that nothing is further aloof--

shall prevent my giving this country to Russia be-

fore five years have passed, and within another brief

span the trade of China and Japan. It is a glorious

destiny for a man--one man!--to pass into history

as the Russian of his century who has done most

to add to the extent and the wealth and the power

of his empire! Does that sound vainglorious, and

do you resent it? You must not, I tell you, you

must not!"

Concha had never seen him in such a mood. Al-

though he held her so closely that the horses were

angrily biting each other, she felt that for once there

was nothing personal in his ardor. His eyes were

blazing, but they stared as if a great and prophetic

panorama had risen in this silent wood, where the

long faded moss hung as motionless as if by those

quiet waters that even the most ardent must cross

in his time. She felt his heart beat as she had felt

it before against her soft breast, but she knew that

if he thought of her at all it was but as a part of

himself, not as the woman he impatiently desired.

But she was sensible of no resentment, either for

herself or her race, which, indeed, she knew to be

but a wayfarer in the wilderness engaged in a brief

chimerical enterprise. For the first time she felt

her individuality melt into, commingle with his: and

when he lowered his gaze, still with that intensity

of vision piercing the future, her own eyes reflected

the impersonalities of his; and in time he saw it.

XXIV

"We should all wear black for so mournful an oc-

casion," said Rafaella Sal, spreading out her scarlet

skirts.

"Father Abella is right. The occasion is sad

enough without giving it the air of a funeral."

"Sad! Dios de mi alma! Will he return?"

Elena Castro shook her wise head. She was

nearly twenty, and four years of matrimony had

made her sceptical of man's capacity for romance.

"Two years are long, and he will see many girls,

and become one again of a life that is always more

brilliant than our sun in May. His eyes will be

dazzled, his mind distracted, full to the brim. To

sit at table with the Tsar, to talk with him alone in

his cabinet, to have for the asking audience of the

Pope of Rome and the King of Spain! Ay yi! Ay

yi! Perhaps he will be made a prince when he re-

turns to St. Petersburg and all the beautiful prin-

cesses will want to marry him. Can he remember

this poor little California, and even our lovely Con-

cha? I doubt! Valgame Dios, I doubt!"

"Concha has always been too fortunate," said

Rafaella with a touch of spite, for years of waiting

had tried her temper and the sun always freckled

her nose. The flower of California stood on the

corridor of the Mission and before the church await-

ing the guest of honor and his escort. A mass was

to be said in behalf of the departing guests; the

Juno would sail with the turn of the afternoon tide.

Men and women were in their gayest finery, an ex-

otic mass of color against the rough white-washed

walls, chattering as vivaciously as if the burden of

their conversation were not regret for the Chamber-

lain and his gay young lieutenants. Concha, alone,

wore no color; her frock was white, her mantilla

black. She stood somewhat apart, but although she

was pale she commanded her eyes to dwell absently

on the shifting sand far down the valley, her

haughty Spanish profile betraying nothing of the

despair in her soul.

"Yes, Concha has always been too fortunate," re-

peated Rafaella. "Why should she be chosen for

such a destiny--to go to the Russian court and wear

a train ten yards long of red velvet embroidered

with gold, a white veil spangled with gold, a head-

dress a foot high set so thick with jewels her head

will ache for a week--Madre de Dios! And we

stay here forever with white walls, horsehair fur-

niture, Baja California pearls and three silk dresses

a year!"

"No one in all Russia will look so grand in court

dress as our Conchita," said Elena loyally. "But I

doubt if it is the dress and the state she thinks of

losing to-day. She will not talk even to me of

him-- Ay yi! she grows more reserved every

day, our Concha!--except to say she will wed him

when he returns, and that I know, for did not I

witness the betrothal? She only mocks me when I

beg her to tell me if she loves him, languishes, or

sings a bar of some one of our beautiful songs with

ridiculous words. But she does. She did not sleep

last night. Her room is next to mine. No, it is of

Rezanov she thinks, and always. Those proud,

silent girls, who jest when others would weep and

use many words and must die without sympathy--

they have tragedy in their souls, ay yi! And you

think she is fortunate? True she is beautiful, she

is La Favorita, she receives many boxes from Mex-

ico, and she has won the love of this Russian. But

--I have not dared to remind her--I remembered it

only yesterday--she came into this world on the

thirteenth of a month, and he into her life but one

day before the thirteenth of another--new style!

True some might say that it was an escape, but if

he came on the twelfth, it was on the thirteenth she

began to love him--on the night of the ball; of

that I am sure."

Rafaella shuddered and crossed herself. "Poor

Concha! Perhaps in the end she will always stand

apart like that. Truly she is not as others. I

have always said it. Thanks be to Mary it was

Luis that wooed me, not the Russian, for I might

have been tempted. True his eyes are blue, and

only the black could win my heart. But the court

of St. Petersburg! Dios de mi vida! Did I lie

awake at night and think of Concha Arguello in red

velvet and jewels all over, I should hate her. But

no--to-day--I cannot. Two years! Have I not

waited six? It is eternity when one loves and is

young."

"They come," said Elena.

The cavalcade was descending the sand hills on

the left, Rezanov in full uniform between the Com-

mandante and Luis Arguello and followed by a

picked escort of officers from Presidio and Fort.

The Californians wore full-dress uniform of white

and scarlet, Don Jose a blue velvet serape, embroid-

ered in gold with the arms of Spain.

As they dismounted Rezanov bowed ceremoni-

ously to the party on the corridor, and they returned

his salutation gravely, suddenly silent. He walked

directly over to Concha.

"We will go in together," he said. "It matters

nothing what they think. I kneel beside no one

else."

And Concha, with the air of leading an honored

guest to the banquet, turned and walked with him

into the dark little church.

"Why did you not wear a white mantilla?" he

whispered. "I do not like that black thing."

"I am not a bride. I knew we should kneel to-

gether--it would have been ridiculous. And I could

not wear a colored reboso to-day."

"I should have liked to fancy we were here for

our nuptials. Delusions pass but are none the less

sweet for that."

They knelt before the altar, the Commandante,

Dona Ignacia, Luis, Santiago, Rafaella Sal and

Elena Castro just behind; the rest of the party,

their bright garments shimmering vaguely in the

gloom, as they listened; and enough fervent prayers

went up to insure the health and safety of the de-

parting guests for all their lives.

Rezanov, who had much on his mind, stared

moodily at the altar until Concha, who had bowed

her head almost to her knees, finished her suppli-

cation; then their eyes turned and met simultane-

ously. For a moment their brains did swim in the

delusion that the priest with his uplifted hands pro-

nounced benediction upon their nuptials, that proba-

tion was over and union nigh. But Father Abella

dismissed all with the same blessing, and they shiv-

ered as they rose and walked slowly down the

church.

Dona Ignacia took her husband's arm, and mut-

tering that she feared a chill, hurried the others

before her. The priests had gone to the sacristy.

Before they reached the door Rezanov and Concha

were alone.

His hands fell heavily on her shoulders.

"Concha," he said, "I shall come back if I live. I

make no foolish vows, so idle between us. There

is only one power that can prevent our marriage in

this church not later than two years from to-day.

And although I am in the very fulness of my health

and strength, with my work but begun, and all my

happiness in the future, and even to a less sanguine

man it would seem that his course had many years

to run, still have I seen as much as any man of the

inconsequence of life, of the insignificance of the

individual, his hopes, ambitions, happiness, and even

usefulness, in the complicated machinery of natural

laws. It may be that I shall not come back. But

I wish to take with me your promise that if I have

not returned at the end of two years or you have

received no reason for my detention, you will be-

lieve that I am dead. There would be but one in-

supportable drop in the bitterness of death, the doubt

of your faith in my word and my love. Are you

too much of a woman to curb your imagination in

a long unbroken silence?"

"I have learned so much that one lesson more is

no tax on my faith. And I no longer live in a

world of little things. I promise you that I shall

never falter nor doubt."

He bent his head and kissed her for the first time

without passion, but solemnly, as had their nuptials

indeed been accomplished, and the greater mystery

of spiritual union isolated them for a moment in

that twilight region where the mortal part did not

enter.

As they left the church they saw that all the In-

dians of the Mission and neighborhood, in a gala of

color, had gathered to cheer the Russians as they

rode away. Concha was to return as she had come,

beside the carreta of her mother, and as Rezanov

mounted his horse she stood staring with unseeing

eyes on the brilliant, animated scene. Suddenly she

heard a suppressed sob, and felt a touch on her

skirt. She looked round and saw Rosa, kneeling

close to the church. For a moment she continued

to stare, hardly comprehending, in the intense con-

centration of her faculties, that tangible beings,

other than herself and Rezanov, still moved on the

earth. Then her mind relaxed. She was normal

in a normal world once more. She stooped and

patted the hands clasping her skirts.

"Poor Rosa!" she said. "Poor Rosa!"

Over the intense green of islands and hills were

long banners of yellow and purple mist, where the

wild flowers were lifting their heads. The whole

quivering bay was as green as the land, but far

away the mountains of the east were pink. Where

there was a patch of verdure on the sand hills the

warm golden red of the poppy flaunted in the sun-

shine. All nature was in gala attire like the Cali-

fornians themselves, as the Juno under full sail sped

through "The Mouth of the Gulf of the Faral-

lones." Fort San Joaquin saluted with seven guns;

the Juno returned the compliment with nine. The

Commandante, his family and guests, stood on the

hill above the fort, cheering, waving sombreros and

handkerchiefs. Wind and tide carried the ship

rapidly out the straits. Rezanov dropped the

cocked hat he had been waving and raised his field-

glass. Concha, as ever, stood a little apart. As

the ship grew smaller and the company turned

toward the Presidio, she advanced to the edge of

the bluff. The wind lifted her loosened mantilla,

billowing it out on one side, and as she stood with

her hands pressed against her heart, she might, save

for her empty arms, have been the eidolon of the

Madonna di San Sisto. In her eyes was the same

expression of vague arrested horror as she looked

out on that world of menacing imperfections the

blind forces of nature and man had created; her

body was instinct with the same nervous leashed im-

potent energy.

XXV

The white rain clouds, rolling as ever like a nervous

intruder over the great snow peaks behind the steep

hills black with forest that rose like a wall back of

the little settlement of Sitka, parted for a moment,

and the sun, a coy disdainful guest, flung a glitter-

ing mist over what Nature had intended to be one

of the most enchanting spots on earth, until, in a

fit of ill-temper--with one of the gods, no doubt--

she gave it to Niobe as a permanent outlet for her

discontent. When it does not rain at Sitka it pours,

and when once in a way she draws a deep breath of

respite and lifts her grand and glorious face to the

sun, in pathetic gratitude for dear infrequent favor,

comes a wild flurry of snow or a close white fog

from the inland waters; and, like a great beauty

condemned to wear a veil through life, she can but

stare in dumb resentment through the folds, consol-

ing herself with the knowledge that could the world

but see it must surely worship. Perhaps, who

knows? she really is a frozen goddess, condemned

to the veil for infidelity to him imprisoned in the

great volcano across the sound--who sends up a

column of light once in a way to dazzle her shrouded

eyes, and failing that batters her with rock and

stone like any lover of the slums. One day he

spat forth a rock like a small hill, and big enough

to dominate the strip of lowland at least, standing

out on the edge of the island like a guard at the

gates, and never a part of the alien surface. Be-

tween this lofty rock and the forest was the walled

settlement of New Archangel, that Baranhov, the

dauntless, had wrested from the bloodthirsty Kolosh

but a short time since and purposed to hold in the

interest of the Russian-American Company. His

log hut, painted like the other buildings with a yel-

low ochre found in the soil, stood on the rock, and

his glass swept the forest as often as the sea.

As Rezanov, on the second of July, thirty-one

days after leaving San Francisco, sailed into the

harbor with its hundred bits of volcanic woodland

weeping as ever, he gave a whimsical sigh in trib-

ute to the gay and ever-changing beauties of the

southern land, but was in no mood for sentimental

reminiscence. Natives, paddling eagerly out to sea

in their bidarkas to be the first to bring in good

news or bad, had given him a report covering the

period of his absence that filled him with dismay.

There had been deaths from scurvy; one of the

largest ships belonging to the Company had been

wrecked and the entire cargo lost; of a hunting

party of three hundred Aleuts in one hundred and

forty bidarkas, which had gone from Sitka to

Kadiak in November of the preceding year, not one

had arrived at its destination, and there was reason

to believe that all had been drowned or massacred;

and the Russians and Aleuts at Behring's Bay settle-

ment had been exterminated by one of the native

tribes.

But the Juno was received with salvos of artil-

lery from the fort, and cheered by the entire popu-

lation of the settlement, crowded on the beach.

Baranhov, looking like a monkey with a mummy's

head in which only a pair of incomparably shrewd

eyes still lived, his black wig fastened on his bald,

red-fringed pate with a silk handkerchief tied under

his chin, stood, hands on hips, shaking with excite-

ment and delight. The bearded, long-haired priests,

in full canonicals of black and gold, were beside the

Chief-Manager, ready to escort the Chamberlain to

the chapel at the head of the solitary street, where

the bells were pealing and a mass of thanksgiving

was to be said for his safe return.

But it was some time before Rezanov could reach

the chapel or even exchange salutations with Baran-

hov. As he stepped on shore he was surrounded,

almost hustled by the shouting crowd of Russians,

--many of them convicts--Aleuts and Sitkans, who

knelt at his feet, endeavored to kiss his hand, his

garments, in their hysterical gratitude for the food

he had brought them. For the first time he felt

reconciled to his departure from California, and

Concha's image faded as he looked at the tearful

faces of the diseased, ill-nourished wretches who

gave their mite of life that he might live as became

a great noble of the Russian Empire. But although

he tingled with pleasure and was deeply moved, he

by no means swelled with vanity, for he was far

too clear-sighted to doubt he had done more than

his duty, or that his duty was more than begun.

He made them a little speech, giving his word they

should be properly fed hereafter, that he would make

the improvement of their condition as well as that

of all the employees of the Company throughout

this vast chain of settlements on the Pacific, the chief

consideration of his life; and they believed him and

followed him to the chapel rejoicing, reconciled for

once to their lot.

After the service Rezanov went up to the hut of

the Chief-Manager, a habitation that leaked winter

and summer, and was equally deficient in light, ven-

tilation and order. But Baranhov in the sixteen

years of his exile had forgotten the bare lineaments

of comfort, and devoted his days to advancing the

interests of the Company, his nights, save when

sleep overcame him, to potations that would have

buried an ordinary man under Alaskan snows long

since. But Baranhov had fourteen years more of

good service in him, and rescued the Company from

insolvency again and again, nor ever played into

the hands of marauding foreigners; with brain on

fire he was shrewder than the soberest.

He listened with deep satisfaction to the Cham-

berlain's account of his success with the Californi-

ans and his glowing pictures of the country, nod-

ding every few moments with emphatic approval.

But as the story finished his wonderful eyes were

two bubbling springs of humor, and Rezanov, who

knew him well, recrossed his legs nervously.

"What is it?" he asked. "What have I done

now? Remember that you have been in this busi-

ness for sixteen years, and I one--"

"How many measures of corn did you say you

had brought, Excellency?"

"Two hundred and ninety-four," replied Reza-

nov proudly.

"A provision that exceeds my most sanguine

hopes. The only thing that mitigates my satisfac-

tion is that there is not a mill in the settlement to

grind it."

Rezanov sprang to his feet with a violent ex-

clamation, his face very red. There was no one

whose good opinion he valued as he did that of this

brilliant, dissipated, disinterested old genius; and

he felt like a schoolboy. But although he started

for the door, he recovered half-way, and reseating

himself joined in the laughter of the little man who

was rocking back and forth on his bench, his weaz-

ened leg clasped against his shrunken chest.

"How on earth was I to know all your domestic

arrangements?" he said testily. "God knows I

found them limited enough last winter, but it never

occurred to me there was any mysterious process

involved in converting corn into meal. Is it quite

useless, then?"

"Oh, no, we can boil or roast it. It will dispose

of what teeth we have left, but that will serve the

good purpose of reminding us always of your ex-

cellency's interest in our welfare."

Rezanov shrugged his shoulders. "Give the corn

to the natives. It is farinaceous at all events. And

you can have nothing to say against the flour I

have brought, and the peas, beans, tallow, butter,

barley, salt, and salted meats--in all to the value of

twenty-four thousand Spanish dollars."

The Chief-Manager's head nodded with the vigor

and rapidity of a mechanical toy. "It is a God-send,

a God-send. If you did no more than that you would

have earned our everlasting gratitude. It will make

us over, give us renewed courage in this cursed ex-

istence. Are you not going to get me out of it?"

Rezanov shook his head with a smile. "Literally

you are the whole Company. As long as I live

here you stay--although when I reach St. Peters-

burg I shall see that you receive every possible re-

ward and honor."

Baranhov lifted his shoulders to his ears in quiz-

zical resignation. "I suppose it matters little where

the last few years left me are spent, and I can hang

the medals on the walls to console me when I have

rheumatism, and shout my titles from the top of

the fort when the Kolosh are yelling at the barri-

cades."

"You must make yourself more comfortable,"

said Rezanov emphatically. "You are wrong to

carry your honesty and enthusiasm to the point of

living like the promuschleniki. Take enough of

their time to build you a comfortable dwelling, and

I will send you, on my own account, far more sub-

stantial rewards than orders and titles. Build a

big house, for that matter. I shall be here more

or less--when I am not in California." And he told

Baranhov of his proposed marriage with the daugh-

ter of Don Jose Arguello.

The Chief-Manager listened to this confidence

with an even livelier satisfaction than to the list

of the Juno's cargo.

"We shall have California yet!" he cried, his eyes

snapping like live coals under the black thatch of

wig. "Absorption or the bayonet. It matters little.

Ten years from now and we shall have a line of

settlements as far south as San Diego. My plan

was to feel my way down the northern coast of

California with a colony, which should buy a tract

of land from the natives and engage immediately

in otter hunting--somewhere between Cape Mendo-

cino and Drake's Bay. The Spanish have no settle-

ments above San Francisco and are too weak to

drive us out. They would rage and bluster and do

nothing. Then quietly push forward, building forts

and ships. But you have taken hold in the grand

manner and will accomplish in ten years what would

have taken me fifty. Marry this girl, use your ad-

vantage over the entire family--whose influence I

well know--and that great personal power with

which the Almighty has been so lavish, and you

will have the whole weakly garrisoned country un-

der your foot before they know where they are, and

the Russian settlers pouring in. Spain cannot

come to the rescue while this devil Bonaparte is

alive, and he is young, and like yourself a favorite

of destiny. Those damned Bostonians inherit the

grabbing instincts of the too paternal race they have

just rejected, but there are thousands of miles of

desert between California and their own western

outposts, hundreds of savage tribes to exterminate.

By the time they are in a position to attempt the

occupation of California we shall be so securely en-

trenched they will either let us alone or send troops

that would be half dead by the time they reach

us. As to ships, we could soon build enough at Ok-

hotsk and Petropaulovsky for our purpose. For

the matter of that, if your gifted tongue impressed

the Tsar with the riches of California there would

always be war ships on her coast." He leaned for-

ward and caught the strong shoulders above him in

hands that looked like a tangle of baked nerves, and

shook them vigorously. "You are a great boy!" he

said with a sort of quizzical solemnity. "A great

boy. This damned, God-forsaken, pestilential, de-

moralizing, brutalizing factory for enriching a few

with the very life blood and vitals of thousands that

will suffer and starve and never be heard of" (all

his language cannot be recorded), "will make two

or three reputations by the way. Mine will be one,

although I'll get nothing else. Shelikov is safe;

but you will have a monument. Well, God bless

you. I grudge you nothing. Not even the happi-

ness you deserve and are bound to have--for when

all is said and done, Rezanov, you are a lucky dog,

a lucky dog! Any man may see that, even when

these infernal snows have left him with but half an

eye. To quarrel with a destiny like yours would be

as great a waste of time as to protest that California

is warm and fertile, while this infernal North is

like living in a refrigerator with the deluge to vary

the monotony. Now let us get drunk!"

But Rezanov laughingly extricated himself, and

sending a message to Davidov and Khostov to come

to him immediately, walked toward the tent he had

ordered erected on the edge of the settlement; only

the worst of weather drove him indoors in these

half-civilized communities.

As he was passing the chapel, followed again by

the employees of the Company, to whom he had

granted a holiday, he suddenly found his hand taken

possession of, and looked up to see himself con-

fronted by a dissipated-looking person in plain

clothes. His hand became so limp that it was

dropped as if it had put forth a sting, and he nar-

rowed his eyes and demanded with a bend of his

mouth that brought the blood to the face of the in-

truder:

"And who are you, may I ask?"

The man threw back his head defiantly. "I am

Lieutenant Sookin of the Imperial Navy of Russia,"

he said in a loud, defiant tone.

"And I am Chamberlain of the Russian Court

and Commander of all America," replied Rezanov

coolly. "Now go to your quarters, dress yourself

in your uniform, and present your report to me an

hour hence."

The officer, concentrating in his injected eyes all

the lively hatred and jealousy of his service for the

Russian-American Company in this region where it

reigned supreme and cared no more for the Ad-

miralty than for some native chieftain covered with

shells and warpaint, glared at its plenipotentiary as

if calling upon his deeper resources of insolence;

but the steady, contemptuous gaze of the man who

had dealt with his kind often and successfully over-

came his sodden spirit, and he turned sulkily and

slouched off to his quarters to console himself with

more brandy. Rezanov shrugged his shoulders

and went on to his tent.

There was no furniture in it as yet, and he was

obliged to receive Davidov and Khostov standing,

but this he preferred. They followed him almost

immediately, apprehensive and nervous, and before

speaking he looked at them for a moment with his

strong, penetrating gaze. He well knew the power

of his own personality, and that it was immeasur-

ably enhanced by the fact that of all with whom he

had to do in these benighted regions his will alone

was never weakened by liquor. These young men,

clever, high-bred, with an honorable record not only

in Russia, but in England and America, looked upon

a hilarious night as the just reward of work well

done by day. Brandy was debited to their account

by the "bucket" (a bucket being a trifle less than

two gallons), and they found little fault with life.

But the profligacy gave a commanding spirit like

Rezanov's an advantage which they did not under-

estimate for a moment; and they alternately hated

and worshiped him.

"I think you have an inkling of what I am going

to ask you to do." The Chamberlain brought out

the euphemism with the utmost suavity. "I have

made up my mind not to ignore the indignity to

which Russia was subjected last year by Japan, but

to inflict upon it such punishment as I find it in my

power to compass. It was my intention to build a

flotilla here, but owing to the diseased condition and

reduced numbers of the employees, that was im-

possible, and I shall be obliged to content myself

with the Juno and the Avos, whose keel, as you

know, was laid in November, and is no doubt fin-

ished long since. These I shall fit with armaments

in Okhotsk. I shall place the enterprise I have

spoken of in your charge, sailing with you from

Sitka five days hence. From Okhotsk I desire that

you proceed to the Japanese settlements in the lower

Kurile Islands, take possession of them and bring

all stores and as many of the inhabitants as the

vessels will accommodate, to Sitka, where Baran-

hov will see that they are comfortably established

on that large island in the harbor--which we shall

call Japonsky--and converted into good servants of

the Company. The excuse for this enterprise is

that those islands were formally taken possession

of by Shelikov; and although abandoned later, the

fact remains that the Russian flag was the first to

float over them. The stores captured may not be

worth much and the islands are of no particular use

to us, but it is wise that Japan should have a taste

of Russian power; and the consequences may be

salutary in more ways than one. I hope you will

do me this great favor, for there is no one of your

tried probity and skill to whom I can trust so deli-

cate an enterprise. I am doing it wholly upon my

own responsibility, for although I wrote tentatively

to the Tsar on this subject before I sailed for Cali-

fornia, it is not yet time for a reply. However, I

take the consequences upon my own shoulders. You

shall not suffer in any way, for your orders are to

obey mine while you remain in these waters."

He paused a moment, and then suddenly smiled

into the unresponsive faces before him. He held

out his hand and shook their limp ones warmly.

"Let me thank you here for all your inestimable

services in the past, and particularly during our late

hazardous voyages. Be sure that whether you suc-

ceed in this enterprise or not, your rewards shall be

no less for what you have already done. I shall

make it a personal matter with the Tsar. You shall

have promotion and a substantial increase in pay,

besides the orders and Imperial thanks you so richly

deserve. Lest anything happen to me on my home-

ward journey, I shall write to St. Petersburg before

I leave."

The lieutenants, overcome as ever when he chose

to put forth his full powers, assured him of their

fidelity and, if with misgivings, vowed to mete out

vengeance to the Japanese. And although their

misgivings were not unfounded, and they paid a

high price in suffering and mortification, they ac-

complished their object and in due course received

the rewards the Chamberlain had promised them.

They did not retire, and Rezanov, noting their

sudden hesitation and embarrassment, felt an in-

stant thrill of apprehension.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What has hap-

pened?"

"Life has moved slowly in Sitka during your

absence, Excellency," replied Davidov. "There has

been little work done on the Avos. It will not be

finished for a month or six weeks."

Then, had the young men been possessed by a

not infrequent mood, they would have glowed with

a sense of just satisfaction. Rezanov felt himself

turn so white that he wheeled about and left the

tent. A month or six weeks! And the speed and

safety of his journey across Siberia depended upon

his making the greater part of it before the heavy

autumn rains swelled the rivers and flooded the

swamps. Winter or summer the journey from Ok-

hotsk to St. Petersburg might be made in four

months; with the wealth and influence at his com-

mand, possibly in less; but in the deluge between

he was liable to detentions lasting nearly as long

again, to say nothing of illness caused by inevitable

exposure.

He stood staring at the palisades for many min-

utes. The separation must be long enough, the

dangers numerous enough if he started within the

week, but at least he had in a measure accustomed

himself to the idea of not seeing Concha again for

"the best part of two years," and the sanguineness

of his temperament had led him to hope that the

time might be reduced to eighteen months. If he

delayed too long, only by means of an unprece-

dented run of good fortune would he reach St.

Petersburg but a month behind his calculations.

And the chances were in favor of four, or three at

the best! Never since the morning that the real

nature of his feeling for Concha had declared itself

had he yearned toward her as at that moment; never

since the dictum of what she called their "tribunal"

had he so rebelled against the long delay. And yet

he hesitated. To leave Japan unpunished for the

senseless humiliations to which it had subjected

Russia in his person was not to be thought of, and

yet did he leave without seeing the Avos finished,

the two boats supplied with armaments at Okhotsk,

and under way before he started across Siberia, he

knew it was doubtful if the expedition took place

before his return; in that case might never take

place, for these two young men might have drifted

elsewhere, and he knew no one else to whom he

could entrust such a commission. In spite of their

idiosyncrasies he could rely upon them implicitly--

up to a certain point. That point involved keeping

them in sight until exactly the right moment and

leaving nothing to their executive which could be

certainly accomplished by himself alone. Did he

sail five days hence on the Juno one of the officers

would be exposed for an indeterminate time to the

temptations of Okhotsk, the ship, perhaps, at the

mercy of some sudden requirement of the Com-

pany. His authority was absolute when enforced

in person, but it was a proverb west of the Ural:

"God reigns and the Tsar is far away." If the

Juno were wanted the manager of Okhotsk would

argue that two years was a period in which an ar-

dent servant of the Company would find many an

excuse to justify its seizure.

And here in Sitka it was doubtful if the work on

the Avos proceeded at all. Baranhov was not in

sympathy with the enterprise against the Japanese,

fearing the consequences to himself in the event of

the Tsar's disapproval, and resenting the impress-

ment of the promuschleniki into a service that de-

prived him of their legitimate work. Moreover, al-

though he loved Rezanov personally, he had en-

joyed supreme power in the wilderness too long not

to chafe under even the temporary assumption of

authority by his high-handed superior. With the

best of intentions Davidov could make little head-

way against the passive resistance of the Chief-

Manager, and those intentions would be weakened

by the consolidations the Company so generously

afforded.

The result was hardly open to doubt. If he left

Sitka before the completion of the Avos, Russia

would go unavenged for the present. Or himself?

Rezanov, sanguine and imaginative as he was, even

to the point of creating premises to rhyme with ends,

was very honest fundamentally. He turned abruptly

on his heel, and calling to the officers that he would

announce his decision on the morrow, ordered the

sentry to open the gate and passed out of the en-

closure.

He crossed the clearing and entered the forest.

The warlike tribes themselves had trodden paths

through the dense undergrowth of young trees and

ferns. Rezanov, despite Baranhov's warning, had

tramped the forest many times. It was the one

thing that reconciled him to Sitka, for there are

few woods more beautiful. In spite or because of

the incessant rains, it is pervaded by a rich golden

gloom, the result of the constant rotting of the

brown and yellow bark, not only of the prostrate

trees, but of the many killed by crowding and un-

able to seek the earth with the natural instinct of

death. And above, the green of hemlock and spruce

was perennially fresh and young, glistening and fra-

grant. Here and there was a small clearing where

the clans had erected their ingenious and hideous

totem poles, out of place in the ancient beauty of

the wood.

The ferns brushed his waist, the roar of the river

came to his ears, the forest had never looked more

primeval, more wooing to a man burdened with civil-

ization, but Rezanov gave it less heed than usual,

although he had turned to it instinctively. He was

occupied with a question to which nature would

turn an aloof disdainful ear. Was his own wounded

vanity at the root of his desire to humiliate Japan?

Russia was too powerful, too occupied, for the pres-

ent at least, greatly to care that her overtures and

presents had been scorned. Upon her ambassador

had fallen the full brunt of that wearisome and in-

comparably mortifying experience, and unfortu-

nately the ambassador happened to be one of the

proudest and most autocratic men in her empire.

No man of Rezanov's caliber but accommodates that

sort of personal vanity that tenaciously resents a

blow to the pride of which it is a part, to the love of

power it feeds. As well expect a lover without pas-

sion, a state without corruption. Rezanov finally

shrugged his shoulders and admitted the impeach-

ment, but at the same time he recognized that the

desire for vengeance still held, and that the tenacity

of his nature, a tenacity that had been no mean

factor in the remodeling of himself from a voluptu-

ous young sprig of nobility into one of the most

successful business men and subjugator of other

men that the Russian Empire could show, was not

likely to weaken when its very roots had been stiff

with purpose for fifteen months. Power had been

Rezanov's ruling passion for many years before he

met Concha Arguello, and, although it might mate

very comfortably with love, it was not to be expected

that it would remain submerged beyond the first

enthusiasm, nor even assume the position of the

"party of the second part." Rezanov was Rezanov.

He was also in that interval between youth and age

when the brain rules if it is ever to rule at all. That

the ardor of his nature had awakened refreshed

after a long sleep was but just proved, as well as

the revival of his early ideals and capacity for genu-

ine love; but the complexities, the manifold inter-

ests and desires of the ego had been growing and

developing these many years; and no mere mortal

that has given up his life for a considerable period

to the thirst for dominance can ever, save in a brief

exaltation, sacrifice it to anything so normal as the

demands of sex and spirit. For good or ill, the

man who has burned with ambition, exulted in the

exercise of power, bitterly resented the temporary

victories of rivals and enemies, fought with all the

resources of brain and character against failure, is

in a class apart from humanity in the mass. Reza-

nov loved Concha Arguello to the very depths of

his soul, but he had lived beyond the time when

even she could engage successfully with the ruth-

less forces that had molded into immutable shape

the Rezanov she knew. Her place was second, and

it is probable that she would have loved him less

had it been otherwise; she, in spite of her fine intel-

lect and strong will, being all woman, as he, despite

his depth of intuition, was all man. Equality is

possible in no relation or condition of life. When

woman subjugates man the conquered will enjoy a

sense of revenge proportionate to the meanness of

his state.

It is possible that had Concha awaited Rezanov in

St. Petersburg her attraction would have focused

his desires irresistibly; but his mind had resigned

itself to the prospect of separation for a definite

period, and while it had not relegated her image to

the background, her part in his life had been settled

there among many future possibilities, and all the

foreground was crowded with the impatient sym-

bols of the intervening time. Moreover, he well

knew that the savor would be gone from his happi-

ness with the woman were the taste of another fail-

ure acrid in his mouth.

As he realized that the die was cast, the sanguine-

ness of his temperament rushed to do battle against

apprehension and self-accusing. After all, he was

rarely balked of his way, accustomed to ride down

obstacles, to the amiable cooperation of fate. He

could arrive in Okhotsk late in September or early

in October. Captain D'Wolf, who had been de-

tained at Sitka during his absence by the same in-

difference that had operated against the completion

of the Avos, would precede him and order that all

be in readiness at Okhotsk both for the ships and

his journey to Yakutsk. He could proceed at once;

and, no doubt, with twice the number or horses

needed, would make the first and most difficult stage

of the journey in the usual time, and with no great

embarrassment from the rains. From Yakutsk to

Irkutsk the greater part of the travel was by water

in any case, and after that the land was flat for the

most part and bridges were more numerous. The

governor of every town in Siberia would be his

obsequious servant, the entire resources of the

country would be at his disposal. He was sound in

health again, as resistant against hardships as when

he had sailed from Kronstadt. And God knew, he

thought with a sigh, his will and purpose had never

been stronger.

XXVI

Rezanov disembarked from the Juno at Okhotsk

during the first days of October. Had it not been

for a touch of fever that had returned in the filth

and warm dampness of Sitka, he would have felt

almost as buoyant in mind and body as in those days

when California had gone to his head. The Juno

had touched at Kadiak, Oonalaska, and others of

the more important settlements, and he had found

his schools and libraries in good condition, seals

and otters rapidly increasing, in their immunity

from indiscriminate slaughter, new and stronger

forts threatening the nefarious Bostonian and Bri-

ton. At Okhotsk he learned that the embassy of

Count Golofkin to China had failed as signally as

his own, and this alone would have put him in the

best of tempers even had he not found his arma-

ment and caravan awaiting him, facilitating his im-

mediate departure. He wrote a gay letter to Con-

cha, giving her the painful story of the naturalist

attached to the Golofkin embassy, Dr. Redovsky,

who had remained in the East animated by the same

scientific enthusiasm as that of his colleague, the

good Langsdorff; parted some time since from his

too exacting master. Rezanov had written Concha

many letters during his detention in Sitka, and left

them with Baranhov to send at the first opportun-

ity. The Chief-Manager, deeply interested in the

romance of the mighty Chamberlain with whom he

alone dared to take a liberty, vowed to guard all

that came to his care and sooner or later to send

them to California. Rezanov had also written com-

prehensively to the Tsar and the directors of the

Russian-American Company, adroitly placing his

marriage in the light of a diplomatic maneuver, and

painting California in colors the more vivid and en-

ticing for the sullen clouds and roaring winds, the

dripping forests and eternal snows of that derelict

corner of Earth where he had been stranded so

long. He had also, when Langsdorff announced his

intention to start upon a difficult journey in the in-

terest of science, provided him not only with letters

of recommendation, but with all the comforts pro-

curable in a land where the word comfort was the

stock in trade of the local satirist. But Langsdorff,

although punctiliously acknowledging the favors,

never quite forgave the indifference of a mere am-

bassador and chamberlain, rejoicing in the dignity

of an honorary membership in the St. Petersburg

Academy of Sciences, to the supreme division of

natural history.

The first stage of the journey--from Okhotsk to

Yakutsk--was about six hundred and fifty English

miles, not as the crow flew, but over the Stanovoi

mountains in a southwesterly direction to the Maya,

by this river's wavering course to the Youdoma,

then northwest to the Aldan, and south beside the

Lena. The beaten track lay entirely alongside the

rivers at this season, upon their surface in winter;

and in addition to these great streams there were

many too unimportant for the map, but as erratic

in course and as irresistible in energy after the first

rains of autumn.

Captain D'Wolf had proved himself capable and

faithful, and a caravan of forty horses had been in

Okhotsk a week; twenty for immediate use, twenty

for relief, or substitutes in almost certain emer-

gency. As there were but one or two stations of

any importance between Okhotsk and Yakutsk, and

as a week might pass without the shelter of so much

as a hut, it was necessary to take tents and bearskin

beds for the Chamberlain, his Cossack guard, valet-

de-chambre, cook and other servants, one set of fine

blankets and linen, cooking utensils, axes, arms,

tinder-boxes, provisions for the entire trip, besides

a great quantity of personal luggage.

Rezanov lost no time. He had changed his origi-

nal plan and dispatched Davidov on the Avos from

Oonalaska. Guns and provisions awaited the Juno

at Okhotsk, and in less than a week after his ar-

rival Rezanov was able to start on his long journey

with a mind at rest. Although the almost extrava-

gant delight that his body had taken in the com-

forts of his manager's home, after ten weeks on the

Juno, warned him that he might be in a better con-

dition to begin a journey of ten thousand versts, he

hearkened neither to the hint nor to the insistence

of his host. His impatient energy and stern will,

combined with the passionate wish to accomplish

the double object of his journey, returning in the

least possible time to California with his treaty and

the consent of the Pope and King to his marriage,

would have carried him out of Okhotsk in forty-

eight hours had disease declared itself. Nor were

there any inducements aside from a comfortable

bed and refined fare, in the flat, unhealthy town

with its everlasting rattle of chains, and the hideous

physiognomies of criminals always at work to the

rumbling accompaniment of Cossack oaths.

For the first week the exercise he loved best and

the long days in the crisp open air renewed his

vigor, and he even looked forward to the four

months of what was then the severest traveling in

the world, in a boyish spirit of adventure. He re-

flected that he might as well give his brain a relief

from the constant revolving of schemes and plans

for the advancement of his country, his company,

and himself, and let his thoughts have their car-

nival of anticipation with the unparalleled happiness

and success that awaited him in the future. There

was no possible doubt of the acquiescence and assist-

ance of the Tsar, and no man ever looked down a

fairer perspective than he, as he galloped over the

ugly country, often far ahead of his caravan, splash-

ing through bogs and streams, fording rivers with-

out ferries, camping at night in forests so dense the

cold never escaped their embrace, muffled to the eyes

in furs as he made his way past valleys whose eter-

nal ice fields chilled the country for miles about;

sometimes able to procure a little fresh milk and

butter, oftener not; occasionally passing a caravan

returning for furs, generally seeing nothing but a

stray reindeer for hours together, once meeting the

post and finding much for himself that in nowise

dampened his spirit.

But on the eighth day the rains began: a fine

steady mist, then in torrents as endless. Wrapped

in bearskins at night within the shelter of a tent or

of some wayside hut, and closely covered by day,

Rezanov at first merely cursed the inconvenience of

the rain; but while crossing the river Allach Juni,

his guides without consulting him having taken him

miles out of his way in order to avoid the hamlet of

the same name where the small-pox was raging, but

where there was a government ferry, his horse lost

his footing in the rapid, swollen current and fell.

Rezanov managed to retain his seat, and pulled the

frightened, plunging beast to its feet while his Cos-

sacks were still shouting their consternation. But

he was soaked to the skin, his personal luggage was

in the same condition, and they did not reach a hut

where a fire could be made until nine hours later.

It was then that the seeds of malaria, accumulated

during the last three years in unsanitary ports and

sown deep by exceptional hardships, but which he

believed had taken themselves off during his six

weeks in California, stirred more vigorously than

in Sitka or Okhotsk. He rode on the next day in a

burning fever. Jon, minding Langsdorff's instruc-

tions, doctored him--not without difficulty--from

the medicine chest, and for a day or two the fever

seemed broken. But Jon, sick with apprehension,

implored him to turn back. He might as well have

implored the sky to turn blue.

"How do you think men accomplish things in

this world?" asked Rezanov angrily. "By turning

back and going to bed every time they have a mi-

graine?"

"No, Excellency," said the man humbly. "But

health is necessary to the accomplishment of every-

thing, and if the body is eaten up with fever--"

"What are drugs for? Give me the whole

damned pharmacopeia if you choose, but don't talk

to me about turning back."

"Very well, Excellency," said Jon, with a sigh.

The next day he and one of the Cossack guard

caught him as he fell from his horse unconscious.

A Yakhut hut, miserable as it was, offered in the

persistent downpour a better shelter than the tent.

They carried him into it, and his bedding at least

was almost as luxurious as had he been in St.

Petersburg. Jon, at his wits' end, remembered the'

practice of Langsdorff in similar cases, and used

the lancet, a heroic treatment he would never have

accomplished had his master been conscious. The

fever ebbed, and in a few days Rezanov was able

to continue the journey by shorter stages, although

heavy with an intolerable lassitude. But his will

sustained him until he reached Yakutsk, not at the

end of twenty-two days, but of thirty-three. Here

he succumbed immediately, and although his sick-

bed was in the comfortable home of the agent of

the Company, and he had medical attendance of a

sort, his fever and convalescence lasted for eight

weeks. Then, in spite of the supplications of his

friends, chief among whom was his faithful Jon,

and the prohibition of the doctor, he began the sec-

ond stage of his journey.

The road from Yakutsk to Irkutsk, some two

thousand six hundred versts, or fifteen hundred and

fifty English miles, lay for the most part alternately

on and along the river Lena in a southeasterly di-

rection; there being no attempt to cross Siberia at

any point in a straight line. By this time the river

was frozen, and the only concession Rezanov would

make to his enfeebled frame was an arrangement

to cover the entire journey by private sledge instead

of employing the swifter course of post sledge on

the long stretches and horseback on the shorter cuts.

The weather was now intensely cold, the river

winding, the delays many, but there were adequate

stations for the benefit and accommodation of trav-

elers every hundred versts or less. Rezanov felt so

invigorated by the long hours in the open after the

barbarous closeness of his sick room, that at the

end of a fortnight he was again possessed with all

his old ardor of desire to reach the end of his jour-

ney. He vowed he was well again, abandoned his

comfortable sledge, and pushed on in the common

manner. In the wretched post sledges he was often

exposed to the full violence of a Siberian winter,

and although the horseback exercise stirred his blood

and refreshed him for the moment, he suffered in

reaction and was several times forced to remain two

nights instead of one at a station. But he was muf-

fled in sables to his very eyes, and the road was

diverting, often beautiful, with its Gothic moun-

tains, its white plains set with villages and farms,

the high thin crosses above the open or swelling

domes of the little churches. Sometimes the Lena

narrowed until its frozen surface looked like a mass

of ice that had ground its way between perpendicu-

lar walls or overhanging masses of rock that awaited

the next convulsion of nature to close the pass alto-

gether. Then the dogs trotted past caves and grot-

tos, left the abrupt and craggy banks, crossed level

plains once more; where herds of cattle grazed in

the summertime, now a vast uncheckered expanse

of white. The Government and Company agents

fawned upon him, the best of horses and beds, food

and wine, were eagerly placed at the disposal of the

favorite of the Tsar. Rezanov's spirit, always of

the finest temper, suffered no eclipse for many days.

He reveled in the belief that his sorely tried body

was regenerating its old vigors.

From Wercholensk to Katschuk the journey was

so winding by river that it consumed more than

twice the time of the land route, which although

only thirty versts in extent was one of the most

difficult in Siberia. Rezanov chose the latter with-

out hesitation, and would listen to no discussion

from the Commissary of the little town or from his

distracted Jon: the journey from Yakutsk had now

lasted five weeks and the servant's watchful eye

noted signs of exhaustion.

The hills were very high and very steep, the roads

but a name in summer. Had not the snow been

soft and thin, the horses could not have made the

ascent at all; and, as it was, the riders were forced

to walk the greater part of the way and drag their

unwilling steeds behind them. They were twelve

hours covering the thirty versts, and at Katschuk

Rezanov succumbed for two days, while Jon scoured

the country in search of a telega; as sometimes hap-

pened there was a long stretch of country without

snow, and sledges, by far the most comfortable

method of travel in Siberia, could not be used. The

rest of the journey, but one hundred and ninety-

six versts, must be made by land. Rezanov admit-

ted that he was too weary to ride, and refused to

travel in the post carriage. On the third day the

servant managed to hire a telega from a superior

farmer and they started immediately, the heavy lug-

gage having been consigned to a merchant vessel at

Yakutsk.

Rezanov stood the telega exactly half a day.

Little larger than an armchair and far lighter, it

was drawn by horses that galloped up and down

hill and across the intervening valleys with no

change of gait, and over a road so rough that the

little vehicle seemed to be propelled by a succession

of earthquakes. Rezanov, in a fever which he at-

tributed to rage, dismissed the telega at a village

and awaited the coming of Jon, who followed on

horseback with the personal luggage.

It was a village of wooden houses built in the

Russian fashion, and inhabited by a dignified tribe

wearing long white garments bordered with fur.

They spoke Russian, a language little heard farther

north and east in Siberia, and when Rezanov de-

clined their hospitality they dispatched a courier at

once to the Governor-General of Irkutsk acquaint-

ing him with the condition of the Chamberlain and

of his imminent arrival. In consequence, when

Rezanov drew rein two days later and looked down

upon the city of Irkutsk with its pleasant squares

and great stone buildings beside the shining river,

the gilded domes and crosses of its thirty churches

and convents glittering in the sun, the whole pic-

ture beckoning to the delirious brain of the traveler

like some mirage of the desert, his appearance was

the signal for a salute from the fort; and the Gov-

ernor-General, privy counselor and senator de

Pestel, accompanied by the civil governor, the com-

mandant, the archbishop, and a military escort, sal-

lied forth and led the guest, with the formality of

officials and the compassionate tenderness of men,

into the capital.

For three weeks longer Rezanov lay in the pal-

ace of the Governor. Between fever and lassitude,

his iron will seemed alternately to melt in the fiery

furnace of his body, then, a cooling but still viscous

and formless mass, sink to the utmost depths of his

being. But here he had the best of nursing and

attendance, rallied finally and insisted upon continu-

ing his journey. His doctor made the less demur

as the traveling was far smoother now, in the early

days of March, than it would be a month hence,

when the snow was thinner and the sledges were

no longer possible. Nevertheless, he announced his

intention to accompany him as far as Krasnoiarsk,

where the Chamberlain could lodge in the house of

the principal magistrate of the place, Counselor Kel-

ler, and, if necessary, be able to command fair nurs-

ing and medical attendance; and to this Rezanov

indifferently assented.

The prospect of continuing his journey and the

bustle of preparation raised the spirits of the in-

valid and gave him a fictitious energy. He had

fought depression and despair in all his conscious

moments, never admitted that the devastation in his

body was mortal. With but a remnant of his for-

mer superb strength, and emaciated beyond recog-

nition, he attended a banquet on the night preced-

ing his departure, and on the following morning

stood up in his sledge and acknowledged the God-

speed of the population of Irkutsk assembled in the

square before the palace of the Governor. All his

life he had excited interest wherever he went, but

never to such a degree as on that last journey when

he made his desperate fight for life and happiness.

XXVII

The snow rarely falls in Krasnoiarsk. It is a little

oasis in the great winter desert of Siberia. Reza-

nov, his face turned to the window, could see the

red banks on the opposite side of the river. The

sun transformed the gilded cupolas and crosses into

dazzling points of light, and the sky above the spires

and towers, the stately square and narrow dirty

streets of the bustling little capital, was as blue and

unflecked as that which arched so high above a land

where Castilian roses grew, and one woman among

a gay and thoughtless people dreamed, with all the

passion of her splendid youth, of the man to whom

she had pledged an eternal troth. Rezanov's mind

was clear in those last moments, but something of

the serenity and the selfishness of death had already

descended upon him. He heard with indifference

the sobs of Jon, crouched at the foot of his bed.

Tears and regrets were a part of the general futility

of life, insignificant enough at the grand threshold

of death.

No doubt that his great schemes would die with

him, and were he remembered at all it would be as

a dreamer; or as a failure because he had died be-

fore accomplishing what his brain and energy and

enthusiasm alone could force to fruition. None

realized better than he the paucity of initiative and

executive among the characteristics of the Slav.

What mattered it? He had had glimpses more than

once of the apparently illogical sequence of life, the

vanity of human effort, the wanton cruelty of Na-

ture. He had known men struck down before in

the maturity of their usefulness, cities destroyed by

earthquake or hurricane in the fairest and most

promising of their days: public men, priests, par-

ents, children, wantons, criminals, blotted out with

equal impartiality by a brutal force that would

seem to have but a casual use for the life she flung

broadcast on her planets. Man was the helpless

victim of Nature, a calf in a tiger's paws. If she

overlooked him, or swept him contemptuously into

the class of her favorites, well and good; otherwise

he was her sport, the plaything of her idler mo-

ments. Those that cried "But why?" "What rea-

son?" "What use?" were those that had never

looked over the walls of their ego at the great dra-

matic moments in the career of Nature, when she

made immortal fame for herself at the expense of

millions of pigmies.

And if his energies, his talents, his usefulness,

were held of no account, at least he could look back

upon a past when he would have seemed to be one

of the few supreme favorites of the forces that

shaped man's life and destiny. Until he had started

from Kronstadt four years before on a voyage that

had humiliated his proud spirit more than once, and

undermined as splendid a physique as ever was

granted to even a Russian, he had rolled the world

under his foot. With an appearance and a personal

magnetism, gifts of mind and manner and charac-

ter that would have commanded attention amid the

general flaccidity of his race and conquered life

without the great social advantages he inherited, he

had enjoyed power and pleasure to a degree that

would have spoiled a coarser nature long since.

True, the time had come when he had cared little

for any of his endowments save as a means to great

ends, when all his energies had concentrated in the

determination to live a life of the highest possible

usefulness--without which man's span was but exist-

ence--his ambitions had cohered and been driven

steadily toward a permanent niche in history; then

paled and dissolved for an hour in the glorious vision

of human happiness.

And wholly as he might realize man's insignifi-

cance among the blind forces of nature, he could

accept it philosophically and die with his soul uncor-

roded by misanthropy, that final and uncompromis-

ing admission of failure. The misanthrope was the

supreme failure of life because he had not the in-

telligence to realize, or could not reconcile himself

to, the incomplete condition of human nature. Man

was made up of little qualities, and aspirations for

great ones. Many yielded in the struggle and sank

into impotent discontent among the small material

things of life, instead of uplifting themselves with

the picture of the inevitable future when develop-

ment had run its course, and indulgently pitying the

children of their own period who so often made life

hateful with their greed, selfishness, snobbery--

most potent obstacle to human endeavor--and in-

justice. The bad judgment of the mass! How

many careers it had balked, if not ruined, with its

poor ideals, its mean heroes, its instinctive avoid-

ance of superior qualities foreign to itself, its con-

temptible desire to be identified with a fashion. It

was this low standard of the crowd that induced

misanthropy in many otherwise brave spirits who

lacked the insight to discern the divine spark un-

derneath, the persistence, sure of reward, to fight

their way to this spark and reveal it to the gaze of

astonished and flattered humanity. Rezanov's very

arrogance had led him to regard the mass of man-

kind as but one degree removed from the nursery;

his good nature and philosophical spirit to treat

them with an indulgence that kept sourness out of

his cynicism and inevitably recurring weariness and

disgust; his ardent imagination had consoled itself

with the vision of a future when man should live in

a world made reasonable by the triumph of ideals

that now lurked half ashamed in the high spaces of

the human mind.

He looked back in wonder at the moment of wild

regret and protest--the bitterer in its silence--

when they had told him he must die; when in the

last rally of the vital forces he had believed his will

was still strong enough to command his ravaged

body, to propel his brain, still teeming with a vast

and complicated future, his heart, still warm and

insistent with the image it cherished, on to the ulti-

mates of ambition and love. How brief it had been,

that last cry of mortality, with its accompaniment

of furious wonder at his unseemly and senseless

cutting off. In the adjustment and readjustment

of political and natural forces the world ambled on

philosophically, fulfilling its inevitable destiny.

If he had not been beyond humor, he would have

smiled at the idea that in the face of all eternity it

mattered what nation on one little planet eventually

possessed a fragment called California. To him

that fair land was empty and purposeless save for

one figure, and even of her he thought with the

terrible calm of dissolution. During these last

months of illness and isolation he had been less

lonely than at any time of his life save during those

few weeks in California, for he had lived with her

incessantly in spirit; and in that subtle imaginative

communion had pressed close to a profound and

complex soul, revealed before only in flashes to a

vision astray in the confusion of the senses. He

had felt that her response to his passion was far

more vital and enduring than dwelt in the capacity

of most women; he had appreciated her gifts of

mind, her piquant variousness that scotched monot-

ony, the admirable characteristics that would give

a man repose and content in his leisure, and subtly

advance his career. But in those long reveries, at

the head of his forlorn caravan or in the desolate

months of convalescence, he had arrived at an abso-

lute understanding of what she herself had divined

while half comprehending.

Theirs was one of the few immortal loves that

reveal the rarely sounded deeps of the soul while

in its frail tenement on earth; and he harbored not

a doubt that their love was stronger than mortality

and that their ultimate union was decreed. Mean-

while, she would suffer, no one but he could dream

how completely, but her strong soul would conquer,

and she would live the life she had visioned in mo-

ments of despair; not of cloistered selfishness, but

of incomparable usefulness to her little world; and

far happier, in her eternal youthfulness of heart, in

that divine life of the imagination where he must

always be with her as she had known him briefly at

his best, than in the blunt commonplaceness of daily

existence, the routine and disillusionment of the

world. Perhaps--who knew?--he had, after all,

given her the best that man can offer to a woman

of exalted nature; instead of taking again with his

left hand what his right had bestowed; completed

the great gift of life with the priceless beacon of

death.

How unlike was life to the old Greek tragedies!

He recalled his prophetic sense of impending hap-

piness, success, triumph, as he entered California,

the rejuvenescence of his spirit in the renewal of

his wasted forces even before he loved the woman.

Every event of the past year, in spite of the obstacles

that mortal must expect, had marched with his am-

bitions and desires, and straight toward a future

that would have given him the most coveted of all

destinies, a station in history. There had not been a

hint that his brain, so meaningly and consummately

equipped, would perish in the ruins of his body in

less than a twelvemonth from that fragrant morn-

ing when he had entered the home of Concha Ar-

guello tingling with a pagan joy in mere existence,

a sudden rush of desire for the keen, wild happiness

of youth--

His eyes wandered from the bright cross above

the little cemetery where he was to lie, and con-

tracted with an expression of wonder. Where had

Jon found Castilian roses in this barren land? No

man had ever been more blest in a servant, but

could even he--here-- With the last triumph of

will over matter he raised his head, his keen, search-

ing gaze noting every detail of the room, bare and

unlovely save for its altar and ikons, its kneeling

priests and nuns. His eyes expanded, his nostrils

quivered. As he sank down in the embrace of that

final delusion, his unconquerably sanguine spirit

flared high before a vision of eternal and unthink-

able happiness.

So died Rezanov; and with him the hope of Rus-

sians and the hindrance of Americans in the west;

and the mortal happiness and earthly dross of the

saintliest of California's women.

Note: I have made the following changes to the text:

PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO

ii 13 unforgetable unforgettable

ii 26 vizu- visu-

vi 29 Krasnioarsk Krasnoiarsk

14 22 Arguella Arguello

15 28 Anna Ana

15 28 Gertrudes Gertrudis

16 6 Ignacia Ignacio

18 17 Dios de mi alma! Dios de mi alma!*

20 11 Madre de Dios!" Madre de Dios!"*

23 3 Ay yi! Ay yi!*

23 4 Dios, Dios,*

23 20 Propietario Proprietario

23 23 plebian plebeian

23 26 Madre de Dios! Madre de Dios!*

25 18 Dios mio! Dios mio!

25 19 mio!" mio!"*

33 17 embarassing embarrassing

33 24 Nadesha Nadeshda

40 10 commercal commercial

40 13 momentuous momentous

43 28 disintergrating disintegrating

51 5 He lover Her lover

55 4 Morga Moraga

71 22 Rafella Rafaella

72 3 straights straits

75 9 "You "Your

94 16 inexhautible inexhaustible

103 2 embarassed embarrassed

105 3 preciptate precipitate

106 28 Bueno Buena

111 8 Madre de Dios, Madre de Dios,*

117 30 prefer, prefer.

118 20 I "I

128 10 Arillaga Arrillaga

128 18 ride of rid of

133 8 Arillaga Arrillaga

133 22 Arillaga Arrillaga

135 10 Are "Are

137 28 Arrilaga Arrillaga

137 29 Nakasaki Nagasaki

146 21 refuse--' refuse--"

155 24 dumfounded dumbfounded

169 29 Moragas Moraga

171 7 twice--' twice--"

177 14 said said he said

178 16 phasis." phasis.

178 26 modoties modities

195 17 civilized that civilized than

200 27 gente de gente de*

201 1 razon razon*

201 21 silk silks

204 29 Duena duena

209 2 beneficient beneficent

211 13 Ay yi! Ay yi!*

211 14 yi! yi!*

212 22 Ay yi! Ay yi!*

213 3 ay yi! ay yi!*

I have also omitted the accents over proper names such as Rezanov,

Baranhov, and Jose, and have omitted the umlaut over the u in

Arguello.

* indicates that the italics were NOT used as emphasis, but merely

as indicators of SOME of the non-English words, and were eventually

stripped of their italicism for easier reading.

The first words of each chapter were also capitalized on paper,

as least most of them. These have also been uncapitalized.

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Rezanov, by Gertrude Atherton

Livros Grátis
( http://www.livrosgratis.com.br )
 
Milhares de Livros para Download:
 
Baixar livros de Administração
Baixar livros de Agronomia
Baixar livros de Arquitetura
Baixar livros de Artes
Baixar livros de Astronomia
Baixar livros de Biologia Geral
Baixar livros de Ciência da Computação
Baixar livros de Ciência da Informação
Baixar livros de Ciência Política
Baixar livros de Ciências da Saúde
Baixar livros de Comunicação
Baixar livros do Conselho Nacional de Educação - CNE
Baixar livros de Defesa civil
Baixar livros de Direito
Baixar livros de Direitos humanos
Baixar livros de Economia
Baixar livros de Economia Doméstica
Baixar livros de Educação
Baixar livros de Educação - Trânsito
Baixar livros de Educação Física
Baixar livros de Engenharia Aeroespacial
Baixar livros de Farmácia
Baixar livros de Filosofia
Baixar livros de Física
Baixar livros de Geociências
Baixar livros de Geografia
Baixar livros de História
Baixar livros de Línguas

Baixar livros de Literatura
Baixar livros de Literatura de Cordel
Baixar livros de Literatura Infantil
Baixar livros de Matemática
Baixar livros de Medicina
Baixar livros de Medicina Veterinária
Baixar livros de Meio Ambiente
Baixar livros de Meteorologia
Baixar Monografias e TCC
Baixar livros Multidisciplinar
Baixar livros de Música
Baixar livros de Psicologia
Baixar livros de Química
Baixar livros de Saúde Coletiva
Baixar livros de Serviço Social
Baixar livros de Sociologia
Baixar livros de Teologia
Baixar livros de Trabalho
Baixar livros de Turismo
 
 