Rezanov

  IX

  "The sash, Excellency?" Jon longed to see his master in full regaliaonce more, and after all, was not this an embassy of a sort? ButRezanov, who already regarded his reflection with some humor, shook hishead.

  "I'll go as far as decency permits, for no one is so impressed byexternal magnificence as the Spaniard. But full dress uniform andorders are enough; an ambassador's sash and they might suspect I tookthem for the children they are. Children are not always fools. Mystock is too tight. Remember that I am to dance, and am too tall formost women's pretty little ears. And I doubt if an ear is less thirstyfor being so provocatively screened."

  Jon, a "prince" whose family had fallen upon evil days long since, butwhose thin, clever fingers were no mean inheritance, unwound andreadjusted the folds of soft batiste, that most becoming neck vestureman has ever worn. He fain would have pressed the matter of the sash,but Rezanov, most indulgent of masters to this devoted servant, wasnever patient of insistence. Jon also regretted the powdered wig andqueue, which he privately thought more befitting a fine gentleman thanhis own hair, even though the latter were thick and bright. He saidtentatively:

  "I notice these Californians still wear the hair long; and with theirgay ribbons and showy hats look much better no doubt than if theyfollowed a fashion of which it would seem they had not heard--andperhaps do not admire. I ventured to pack two of your excellency'swigs when we were leaving St. Petersburg--"

  "Good heavens, no!" cried Rezanov, rising to his feet and casting alast impatient glance at the mirror. "When a man has escaped from afurnace does he run back of his own accord? My brain would cook undera wig in this climate, and I need all my wits--for more reasons thanone." And he went up on deck.

  There, while awaiting his horses and escort, he had another glimpse ofthe happy Arcadian life of the Californians. Over the sand hillsthrough which he had floundered twice that day rode young men in galaattire, a maiden, her attire as brilliant as the sunset along thewestern summits, on the saddle before them. These saddles were heavywith silver, the blanket beneath was embroidered with both silver andgold. Gay light laughter floated out on the cool evening breeze to thelittle ship in the harbor.

  "It has been a good day," thought Rezanov, lowering his glass. "It islike her to arrange so charming a finale."

  When he arrived at the Presidio the guitars were tinkling and the salawas full of eager and somber faces. The Californians had come early,determined to witness the arrival of the Russians. Very pretty most ofthe girls were, and by no means a bevy of brunettes. There was hair ofevery shade of brown, looped over the ears, drawn high and confined bythe high comb and the long pins; and Rafaella Sal, with her red hairand gray eyes, was still celebrated as a beauty, although no longer inher first youth--she was twenty-two, and should have been a matron andmother long since! But she looked very handsome and coquettish in herdaring yellow frock that no other red head would have dared to wear,and she displayed three ropes of Baja California pearls; one strandbeing the common possession. The matrons, young and old, wore heavysatins or brocades, either red or yellow, but the maids were inflowered silks, sometimes with coquettish little jacket, generally withlong pointed bodice and full flowing skirt. Concha's frock was made inthis fashion, but quite different otherwise; an aunt in the City ofMexico being mindful at whiles of the cravings of relatives in exile.It was of a soft shimmering white stuff covered with gold spangles andcut to reveal her young neck and arms. She stood at the head of theroom with her mother as Rezanov entered, and he noticed for the firsttime 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 guestswith a dignified composure. Her lips, her skin, were luminous. Inthis well-cut evening gown he saw that her figure was superb; and thatshe could command stateliness as well as vivacity moved her toward apedestal in his regard that had been occupied by few and never for long.

  Rezanov, in his splendid uniform and blazing orders, filled the salawith his presence as he walked past the rows of bright critical eyestoward his hostesses. The young lips of the maids parted with delightand the men frowned. For the first time William Sturgis felt thesickness of jealousy instead of its not unagreeable pain. Davidov andKhostov, both handsome and well-bred young men, were also in full navaluniform, and by no means ignored; while Langsdorff, in the severe blackof the scholar, was an admirable foil.

  Rezanov, wondering at the subtle change in Concha, bowed ceremoniouslyand 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 leapedto position, and in a moment Rezanov enjoyed the novel delusion ofencircling a girl's floating wraith.

  "We can waltz, you see! Are you not surprised?"

  "It is but one accomplishment the more. I feared a preference for yournative dances, but ventured to hope you would teach me."

  "They are easy to learn. You will watch us dance the contra-danzaafter this."

  "With whom do you dance it?"

  Her black eyelashes were very thick; he barely caught the glance sheshot him.

  "The Russian bear growls," she said lightly. "Did you expect to danceevery dance with me?"

  "I came for no other purpose."

  "You would have several duels to fight to-morrow."

  "I have no objection."

  "You have fought others, then?" Her voice was the softer with theeffort to turn its edge.

  "No more than most men, I suppose. May I ask how many have been foughtfor you?"

  "My memory is no better than yours. Why should I burden it withtrifles?"

  "True. It doubtless is charged with matters far more serious than thedesires of mere men. Tell me, senorita, what is your dearest wish?"He had bent his head and fixed his powerful gaze on her stubbornlashes. As he hoped, she raised startled eyes in which an angryglitter dawned.

  "My dearest wish? If I had one should I tell you? Why do you ask mesuch a question?"

  "Because I lit a candle at the Mission to-day that you might realizeit," he answered, smiling.

  To his surprise he saw a flash of terror in her eyes before she droppedthem, and felt her shiver. But she answered coldly:

  "You have wasted a candle, senor. I have never had a wish that was notinstantly gratified. But I thank you for the kind thought. Will youfinish this waltz with my friend, and the fiancee of Luis, RafaellaSal? She has quarrelled with Luis, I see; Don Weeliam is dancing withCarolina Xime'no, and she cares to waltz with no one else. Pardon meif I say that no one has ever waltzed as well as your excellency, and Imust not be selfish."

  "I will release you if you are tired, but otherwise I shall do myselfthe honor to waltz with your friend later."

  "I must look after my other guests," she said coldly; and he was ledwith what grace he could summon to the fair but sulky Rafaella.

  "How am I to help flirting with that girl?" he thought as hemechanically guided another light and graceful partner through thecrowded room. "If she were one girl I might resist. But since eleveno'clock yesterday morning she has been three. And if she was twentyyesterday, twelve this morning, she is twenty-eight to-night, and thismight be a court ball in Madrid. I shall leave the day after I bringthe Governor to terms."

  He sat beside Dona Ignacia during the contra-danza and found the sceneremarkably brilliant and animated considering the primitive conditions.In addition to the bright flags on the wall and the vivid colors of thewomen, the officers of the Presidio and forts wore full dress uniform,either white coats with red velvet vest, red pantaloons and sash, orwhite trousers and scarlet coat and waistcoat faced with green. Theyoung men from the Mission wore small clothes of a black silk, fastenedat the knee with silver buckles, and white silk stockings; twogentlemen from Monterey wore the evening costume of the capital,dove-colored small clothes, with whit
e silk waistcoat and stockings,and much fine lawn and lace. The room was well lighted by many wicksstuck in lumps of tallow. The Indian musicians, soldiers recruitedfrom a superior tribe in the Santa Clara valley, were clad almostentirely in scarlet, and danced sometimes as they played; and Indiangirls, in short red skirts and snow-white smocks open at the throat,their long hair decorated with flowers and ribbons, already passedabout wine and dulces. The windows were open. The sweet night airblew in.

  The contra-danza was not unlike the square dances of England exceptthat it was far more graceful, and the men rivalled the women in theirsupple glidings and bendings, doublings and swayings. Concha dancedwith Ignacio Sal, Rafaella with William Sturgis; their pliant grace, asfacile as grain rippling before the wind, would have put the bestballet in Europe to the blush. Concha's skirts swept Rezanov's feet,her little slippers twinkled before his admiring eyes, and he lost nosinuous turn or undulation of her beautiful figure; but she nevervouchsafed him a glance.

  When the dance finished his host introduced him to the prettiest of thegirls 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 thesources of their unlikeness to Concha Arguello. He concluded that thegulf that separated her from these charming, vivacious, shallow younggirls was not dug by education alone. Individualities were rare enoughin Europe; out here, in earthly, but sparsely settled paradises, theymust be rarer still; but that one had wandered into the lovely shell ofConcha Arguello he no longer doubted. The fact that it had developedhaphazardly, with little or no help from her sentience, and was stillfluid and uncertain, but multiplied her in interest and charm. Thewomen to whom he was accustomed knew themselves, consequently were noriddle to a man of his experience, but here he had an odd sense ofhaving entered into a compact in the dark with a girl who might one daysymbolize some high and impassioned ideal he had cherished in the daysbefore ideals had been cast aside with the negative virtues that bredthem.

  As he coolly studied the good looks of the young caballeros and theplain intellectual face and slight little figure of the Bostonian,noted the utter indifference with which they were treated by theFavorita of Presidio and Mission, he felt a sudden rush of arrogance, ayouthful tingling of nerves, the same prophetic sense of imminenthappiness and power that his first contact with the light electricalair and the beauty of the country had induced. After all, he was butforty-two. Life on the whole had been very kind to him. And, althoughhe did not realize it as yet, his frame, blighted by the rigors of thepast three years, was already sensible to a renewal of juice and sap.He admitted that he was more interested than he had been for manyyears, and that if he was not in love, he tingled with a very naturalmasculine desire for an adventure with a pretty girl.

  But he was by no means a weak man, and his mind counted the cost evenwhile his imagination hummed. He had almost decided to bid DonaIgnacia an abrupt good-night, pleading fatigue, which his pallorindorsed, when the door of the dining-room was thrown open to theliveliest of fiddling, and a white hand with a singular suggestion oftenacity both in appearance and clasp took possession of his arm.

  "My mother has gone to Gertrudis Rudisinda, who is crying," saidConcha. "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 bythe massive service of silver and loaded with evidences of DonaIgnacia'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 quiteresigned to the semi-official nature of the ball, rose and drank thehealth of the distinguished guest in long and flowery praises. Rezanovresponded in briefer but no less felicitous vein, and concluded byremarking that the only rift in the lute of his present enchantingexperience was the fear that whereas he had nearly died of starvationseveral times during the past three years, he was now threatened with afar more ignominious end, so delicious and irresistible were thetemptations that beset the wayfarer in this most hospitable land. Bothspeeches were gaily applauded, the conversation became animated andgeneral, 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 truerdescription--triumphant as your bearing when you walked down our humblesala to-night. You looked like Caesar returned from Gaul; but Isuppose 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 atrifling conquest. And according to yourself, dear senorita, it isessential to the success of a mission upon which many lives and my ownhonor depend."

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

  He drew himself up stiffly and his light eyes glowed with anger. "Itis a subject I never should have thought of introducing at a festivitylike this," he said suavely. "May I be permitted to compliment you,senorita, upon your marvellous grace in the contra-danza? It quiteturned my head, and I am delighted to hear that you will dance aloneafter supper."

  Her face had flushed hotly. She dropped her eyes and her voicetrembled as she replied: "You humiliate me, senor, and I deserve it.I--my poor Rosa told me something of her great tragedy while dressingme, and for the moment other things seemed unimportant. What is hungerand court favor beside a broken heart and a desolate life? But that ofcourse is the attitude of an ignorant girl." She raised her eyes.They were soft, and her voice was softer. "I beg that you will forgiveme, senor. And be sure that I take an even deeper interest in yourgreat mission than yesterday. I have thought much about it, and whileI have told my mother nothing, I have expressed certain peevish hopesthat a ship would not come all the way from Sitka without taking a hintmore than one Boston skipper must have given, and brought us manythings we need. She is quite excited over the prospect of a new shawlfor herself, and of sending several as presents to the south; besidesmany other things: cotton, shoes, kitchen utensils. Have you any ofthese things, Excellency?"

  Rezanov stared at her face, barely tinted with color, dully wonderingwhy it should be so different from the one roguish, patheticallyinnocent, that had haunted him all day. He asked abruptly:

  "Which is the friend whose little ones you envy? You have made me wishto see them and her?"

  "That is Elena--beside Gervasio." She indicated a young woman withsoft, patient, brown eyes, the dignity of her race and the sweetness ofyoung motherhood, who would have looked little older than herself hadit not been for an already shapeless figure. "I can take you to-morrowto 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 sucha woman as this Rosa to attend you. Why should your happy life bedisturbed by the lamentations of an abandoned creature--who can do youno good, and possibly much harm?"

  Still Concha did not raise her eyes. "I do not think poor Rosa woulddo anyone harm. But perhaps it were as well she went elsewhere. Wehave had her long enough. I have taken a dislike to her. I reproachmyself bitterly, but I cannot help it. I should like never to see heragain."

  "What has she told you?" Concha glanced up swiftly. His eyes wereblazing. She felt quite certain that he rolled a Russian oath underhis tongue, and she made a slight involuntary motion toward him, herlips trembling apart.

  "Nothing," she murmured. "I do not know--I do not know. But I nolonger 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 madeno reply. Then he smiled charmingly and said in the conventional tonethat was ever at his command: "Of course you know little of life inthis Arcadia. One who hopes to be numbered among the best of yourfriends prays that you never may. Yes, senorita, life isstrange--strangel
y commonplace and disillusionizing--but sometimespicturesque. Believe me when I say that nothing stranger has everbefallen me than to find out here on the lonely brink of a continentnearly twenty thousand versts from Europe, a girl of sixteen with thegrand manner, and an intellect without the detestable idiosyncrasies ofthe fashionable bas bleus I have hitherto had the misfortune toencounter."

  She was tapping the table slowly with her fork, and he noted that hersoft, childish mouth was set. "No doubt you are quite right to put meoff," she said finally, and in a voice as even as his own. "And myintellect would do me little good if it did not teach me to ignoremysteries I can never hope to fathom. There is no such thing as lifein your sense in this forgotten corner of the world, nor ever will bein my time. If you come back and visit us twenty years hence you willfind me fat and worn like Elena, and busy every minute like mymother--unless, indeed, I marry Don Weeliam Sturgis and become a greatlady in Boston. It would not be so mean a fate."

  Rezanov darted a look of angry contempt at the pale young man who waseating little and miserably watching the handsome pair at the head ofthe table. "You will not marry him!" he said briefly.

  "I could do far worse." Concha's lashes framed an adorable glance thatsent the blood to the hair of the sensitive youth. "You have no ideahow clever and good he is. And--Madre de Dios!--I am so tired ofCalifornia."

  "But you are a part of it--the very symbol of its future, it seems tome. 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 bigisland out there."

  "That is very poetical, but after all, you are only saying that I am apretty savage with an education that will be more common in the nextgeneration. It is little consolation for an existence where the mostexciting event in a lifetime is the arrival of a foreign ship or theinauguration of a governor." And once more she smiled at Sturgis. Heraised his glass impulsively, and she hers in gay response. A momentlater she gave the signal to leave the table. Rezanov followed her backto the sala chewing the cud of many reflections.