Rezanov

  XVI

  The Commandante of the San Francisco Company sat opposite Rezanov withhis mouth open, the lines of his strong face elongated and relaxed. Itwas 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 cheerfully. "What better proofwould 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 mycargo and they will look upon me as an amicus humani generis to whomcommon rules do not apply. And I have won their sincere friendship."

  "You have won mine, senor. But, though I say it, there is no moredevout Catholic in the Californias than Jose Arguello. Do you knowwhat they call me? El santo. God knows I am not, but it is not forwant of the wish. Did I give my daughter to a heretic, not only shouldI become an outcast, a pariah, but I should imperil my everlasting souland 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 amoment. But surely, Commandante, in your excitement at this perfectlynatural 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 HisCatholic Majesty's subjects in New Spain. When you have my word ofhonor that your daughter's faith shall never be disturbed, it isimpossible you should believe that marriage with me would ruin herchances of happiness in the next world. But I doubt if your soul andconscience will have the peace you desire if you ruin her happiness inthis. What pleasure do you find in the thought of an old agecompanioned by a heart-broken daughter?"

  Don Jose turned pale and hitched his chair. "Other maids have beenbalked when young, and have forgotten. Concha is but sixteen--"

  "She is also unique. She will marry me or no one. Of that I am ascertain as that she is the woman of women for me."

  "How can you be so certain?" asked the Commandante sharply. "Surelyyou 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 fleetingvision of Dona Ignacia, slim and lovely, at the grating, with a rose inher hair. "But this tremendous passion of the heart--it passes, senor,it passes. We love the good wife, but we sometimes realize that wecould 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 yourdaughter is one of the chosen few who take from the years what theyears take from others. I am not rushing into matrimony for the sakeof a pair of black eyes and a fine figure. I have outlived thepossibility of making a fool of myself if I would. Before I realizedhow deeply I loved your daughter I had deliberately chosen her out ofall the women I have known, as my friend and companion for the variousand difficult ways of life which I shall be called upon to follow.Your daughter will have a high place at the Russian Court, and she willoccupy it as naturally as if I had found her in Madrid and you in thegreat position to which your attainments and services entitle you."

  Don Jose, despite his consternation, titillated agreeably. Heprivately thought no one in New Spain good enough for his daughter, andhis weather-beaten self was not yet insensible to the rare visitationof winged darts tipped with honey. But the situation was one of themost embarrassing he had ever been called upon to face, and perhaps forthe first time in his direct and honest life his resolution was shakenin a crisis.

  "Believe me, your excellency, I appreciate the honor you have done myhouse, and I will add with all my heart that never have I liked a manmore. 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. Hepassed it to his host, who had developed a preference for Russiancigarettes.

  "There are other things to consider besides the happiness of yourdaughter and myself," he remarked. "This alliance would mean theconsolidation of Spanish and Russian interests on the Pacific coast.It would mean the protection of California in the almost certain eventof 'American' aggression. And I hear that a courier brought word againyesterday that the Russian and the Spanish fleets had sailed for thesewaters. I do not believe a word of it; but should it be true, I wouldremind you of two things: that I have the powers of the Tsar himself inthis part of the world, and that the Russian fleet is likely to arrivefirst."

  Again the Commandante moved uneasily. The news from Mexico had kepthimself and the Governor awake the better part of the night. He fullyappreciated the importance of this powerful Russian'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 mighthave gone down before his sense of duty to this poor California. But aheretic in his own family! He was justly renowned for his piety.Aside from the wrath of the church, the mere thought of one of hisoffspring in matrimonial community beyond its pale made him sick withrepugnance. And yet--California! And he would have selected Rezanovfor his daughter out of all men had he been of their faith. And he wasdeeply conscious of the honor that had descended, however unfruitfully,upon his house. Madre de Dios! How would it end? Suddenly he felthimself inspired. In blissful ignorance of her subtle feminine rule,he reminded himself that Concha's mind was the child of his own. Whenshe saw his embarrassment, filial duty and woman's wit would extricatethem both with grace and avert the enmity of the Russian even thoughthe latter's more personal interest in California must die in hisdisappointment. He would make her feel the weight of the sternpaternal hand, and then indicate the part she had to play.

  He rang a bell and directed the servant to summon his daughter, drewhimself up to his full height, and set his rugged face in hard lines.As Concha entered he looked the Commandante, the stern disciplinarian,every inch of him.

  There was no trace of the siesta in Concha's cheeks. They were verywhite, but her eyes were steady and her mouth indomitable as she walkeddown the sala and took the chair Rezanov placed for her. Except forher Castilian fairness, she looked very like the martinet sitting onthe other side of the table. The Commandante regarded her silentlywith brows drawn together. Dimly, he felt apprehension, wondered, in aflash of insight, if girls held fast to the parental recipe, orrecombined with tongue in cheek. The bare possibility of resistancealmost threw him into panic, but he controlled his features until theeffort injected his eyes and drew in his nostrils. Concha regarded himcalmly, although her heart beat unevenly, for she dreaded the longstrain she foresaw.

  "My daughter," said Don Jose finally, his tones harsh with repressedmisgiving, "do you suspect why I have sent for you?"

  "I think that his excellency wishes to marry me," replied Concha; andthe Commandante was so staggered by the calm assurance of her tone andmanner that his pent-up emotion exploded.

  "Dios!" he roared. "What right have you to know when a man wishes tomarry you? What manner of Spanish girl is this? Truly has hisexcellency said that you are not as other women. The place for you isyour 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 morehighly born, a gentleman of the Viceroy's court, she pined until theygave their consent to her marriage with you, lest she die."

  "But I was a Catholic! The prejudice against my birth was an unworthyone. I had distinguished myself. An
d she had the support of thepriests."

  "It is my misfortune that M. de Rezanov is not a Catholic, but it willmake no difference. I shall not fall ill, for I am like you, not likemy dear mother--and the education you have given me is very differentfrom hers. But I shall marry his excellency or no one, and whether Imarry him or live alone with the thought of him until the end of mymortal days, I do not believe that my soul will be imperilled in theleast."

  "You do not!" shouted the irate Spaniard. "How dare you presume todecide such a question for yourself? What does a woman know of loveuntil she marries? It is nothing but a sickening imagination 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 Californiaand more than one fine gentleman from Mexico. I will have none ofthem. I will marry the man of my choice or no one. It may be that Iknow naught of love. If you wish, you may think that my choice of ahusband is determined by ambition, that I am dazzled with the thoughtof court life in St. Petersburg, of being the consort of a great andwealthy noble. It matters not. Love or ambition, I shall marry thisRussian or I shall never marry at all."

  "Mother of God! Mother of God!" Don Jose's face was purple. Theveins swelled in his neck. He was the more wroth because he recognizedhis own daughter and his own handiwork, because he saw that heconfronted a Toledo blade, not a woman's brittle will. Concha regardedhim calmly.

  "If you refuse your consent you will lose me in another way. I may notbe able to marry as I wish, but I will have no worldly alternative. Ishall join the Third Order of the Franciscans, and enter a convent assoon as one is built in California. To that you cannot withhold yourconsent, or they no longer would call you El santo."

  Don Jose leaped from his chair. "Go to your room!" he thundered. "Anddo not dare to leave it without my permission--"

  But Concha sprang forward and flung herself upon his neck. She rubbedher warm elastic cheek against his own in the manner he loved, andsoftened her voice. "Papacito mio, papacito mio," she pleaded. "Thouwilt 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 brokeinto wild weeping and kissed him frantically, while Rezanov who hadfollowed her plan of attack and resistance in silent admiration, didnot 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 theroom, oblivious in the confusion of his faculties of the boon heconferred on the lovers. Concha dried her eyes, but her face wasdeathly pale. It had not been all acting, by any means, and she wasbeginning to feel the tyranny of sleepless nights; and the joy andwonder of the morning had left her with but a remnant of endurance forthe domestic battleground.

  "Go," she whispered, as he took her in his arms. "Return for the danceto-night as if nothing had happened-- I forgot, there is to be abull-bear fight in the square. So much the better, for it is in yourhonor, and you could not well remain away. There is much trouble tocome, but in the end we shall win."