Rezanov

  XXII

  Rezanov in those days was literally lord and master at the Presidio.If he did not burn the house of his devoted host he ran it to suithimself. He turned one of its rooms into an office, where he receivedthe envoys from the different Missions and examined the samples ofeverything submitted to him, trusting little to his commissary. Hisleisure he employed scouring the country or shooting deer and quail inthe company of his younger hosts. The literal mind of Don Joseaccepted him as an actual son and embryonic California, and, hisconscience at peace, revelled in his society as a sign from propitiatedheaven; rejoicing in the virtue of his years. The Governor, testilyremarking that as California was so well governed for the present hewould retire to Monterey and take a siesta, rode off one morning, butnot without an affectionate: "God preserve the life of your excellencymany years."

  But although Rezanov saw the most sanguine hopes that had brought himto California fulfilled, and although he looked from the mountainridges of the east over the great low valleys watered by rivers andshaded by oaks, where enough grain could be raised to keep the bloodred in a thousand times the colonial population of Russia, although hefelt himself in more and more abundant health, more and more in lovewith 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 shecame occasionally to the afternoon dances at the Presidio, and he haddined once at her cousin's house, where the formal betrothal had takenplace and the marriage contract had been signed in the presence of herfamily and more intimate friends, the priests, his officers, and theGovernor, he had not spoken with her for a moment alone. Nor had hereyes met his in a glance of understanding. At the dances she showedhim no favor; and as the engagement was to be as secret as might be inthat small community, until his return with consent of Pope and King,he was forced to concede that her conduct was irreproachable; but whenon the day of the betrothal she was oblivious to his efforts to drawher into the garden, he mounted his horse and rode off in a huff.

  The truth was that Concha liked the present arrangement no better thanhimself, and knowing that her own appeal against the proprieties wouldresult in a deeper seclusion, she determined to goad him into usingevery resource of address and subtlety to bring about a more humanstate of affairs. And she accomplished her object. Rezanov, at theend of a week was not only infuriated but alarmed. He knew theimagination of woman, and guessed that Concha, in her broodingsolitude, distorted all that was unfortunate in the present and dweltmorbidly on the future. He knew that she must resent his part in thelong separation, no doubt his lack of impulsiveness in not proposingelopement. There was a priest in his company who, although he atebelow the salt and found his associates among the sailors, could haveperformed the ceremony of marriage when the Juno, under full sail inthe night, was scudding for the Russian north. It is not to be deniedthat this romantic alternative appealed to Rezanov, and had it not beenfor the starving wretches so eagerly awaiting his coming he might havebeen tempted to throw commercial relations to the winds and flee withhis bride while San Francisco, secure in the knowledge of the Juno'sempty hold, was in its first heavy sleep. It is doubtful if he wouldhave advanced beyond impulse, for Rezanov was not the man to lose sightof a purpose to which he had set the full strength of his talents, andlife had tempered his impetuous nature with much philosophy. Moreover,while his conscience might ignore the double dealing necessary to theaccomplishment of patriotic or political acts, it revolted at the ideaof outwitting, possibly wrecking, his trusting and hospitable host.But the mere fact that his imagination could dwell upon such an issueas reckless flight, inflamed his impatience, and his desire to seeConcha daily during these last few weeks of propinquity. Finally, hesought the co-operation of Father Abella--Santiago was in Monterey--andthat wise student of maids and men gave him cheer.

  On Thursday afternoon there was to take place the long delayed Indiandance and bull-bear fight; not in the Presidio, but at the Mission, thepride of the friars inciting them to succeed where the militaryauthorities had failed. All the little world of San Francisco had beeninvited, and it would be strange if in the confusion betweenperformance and supper a lover could not find a moment alone with hislady.

  The elements were kind to the padres. The afternoon was not too hot,although the sun flooded the plain and there was not a cloud on thedazzling blue of the sky. Never had the Mission and the mansionslooked so white, their tiles so red. The trees were blossoming pinkand white in the orchards, the lightest breeze rippled the green of thefields; and into this valley came neither the winds nor the fogs of theocean.

  The priests and their guests of honor sat on the long corridor besidethe church; the soldiers, sailors, and Indians of Presidio and Missionforming the other three sides of a hollow square. The Indian womenwere a blaze of color. The ladies on the corridor wore theirmantillas, jewels, and the gayest of artificial flowers. There were asmany fans as women. Rezanov sat between Father Abella and theCommandante, and not being in the best of tempers had never looked moreimposing and remote. Concha, leaning against one of the pillars, stolea glance at him and wondered miserably if this haughty European hadreally sought her hand, if it were not a girl's foolish dream. ButConcha's humble moments at this period of her life were rare, and shedrew herself up proudly, the blood of the proudest race in Europeshaking angrily in her veins. A moment later, in response to a powergreater than any within herself, she turned again. The attention of thehosts and guests was riveted upon the preliminary antics of the Indiandancers, and Rezanov seized the opportunity to lean forward unobservedand gaze at the girl whom it seemed to him he saw for the first time inthe full splendor of her beauty. She wore a large mantilla of whiteSpanish lace. In the fashion of the day it rose at the back almostfrom the hem of her gown to descend in a point over the high comb toher eyes. The two points of the width were gathered at her breast,defining the outlines of her superb figure, and fastened with one largeCastilian rose surrounded by its mass of tiny sharp buds and dull greenleaves. As the familiar scent assailed Rezanov's nostrils they tingledand expanded. His lids were lifted and his eyes glowing as he finallycompelled her glance, and her own eyes opened with an eager flash; herlips parted and her shoulders lost their haughty poise. For a momenttheir gaze lingered in a perfect understanding; his ill-humor vanished,and he leaned back with a complimentary remark as Father Abelladirected his attention to the most agile of the Indians.

  The swart natives of both sexes with their thick features and long hairwere even more hideous than usual in bandeaux of bright feathers, scantgarments made from the breasts of water-fowls, rattling strings ofshells, and tattooing on arm and leg no longer concealed by thedecorous Mission smock. Rezanov had that day sent them presents ofglass beads and ribbons, and in these they took such extravagant pridethat for some time their dancing was almost automatic.

  But soon their blood warmed, and after the first dance, which wasmerely a series of measured springs on the part of the men and abeating of time by the women, a large straw figure symbolizing anentire hostile tribe was brought in, and about this pranced the menwith savage cries and gestures, advancing, attacking, retreating,finally piercing it with their arrows and marching it off with sharpyells of triumph that reverberated among the hills; the women nevervarying from a loud monotonous chant.

  There was a peaceful interlude, during which the men, holding bow andarrow aloft, hopped up and down on one spot, the women hopping besidethem and snapping thumb and forefinger on the body, still singing inthe same high measured voice. But while they danced a great bonfirewas laid and kindled. The gyrations lasted a few minutes longer, thenthe chief seized a live ember and swallowed it. His example wasimmediately followed by his tribe, and, whether to relieve discomfortor with energies but quickened, they executed a series of incrediblehandsprings and acrobatic capers. When they finally whirled away ontoes and finger tips, another chief, in the horns and hide of a deer,rushed in, pursued by a party of hunters. For several m
oments heperfectly simulated a hunted animal lurking and dodging in high grass,behind trees, venturing to the brink of a stream to drink, searchingeagerly for his mate; and when he finally escaped it was amidst themost enthusiastic plaudits as yet evoked.

  After an hour of this varied performance, the square was enlarged byseveral mounted vaqueros galloping about with warning cries and muchflourishing of lassos. They were the cattle herders of the Missionranch just over the hills, and were in gala attire of black glazedsombrero with silver cord, white shirt open at the throat, short blackvelvet trousers laced with silver, red sash and high yellow boots.Four, pistol in hand, stationed themselves 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 captors left thecaptives in the middle of the square, and without more ado the serioussport of the day began. The bull, with stomach empty and hideinflamed, rushed at the bear, furious from captivity, with such a roarthat the Indian women screamed and even the men shuffled their feetuneasily. But neither combatant was interested in aught but the other.The one sought to gore, his enemy to strike or hug. The vaquerosteased them with arrows and cries, the dust flew; for a few momentsthere was but a heaving, panting, lashing bulk in the middle of thearena, and then the bull, his tongue torn out, rolled on his back, andanother was driven in before the victor could wreak his unsatedvengeance among the spectators. The bear, dragging the dead bull,rushed at the living, who, unmartial at first, stiffened to thedefensive as he saw a bulk of wiry fur set with eyes of fire, almostupon him. He sprang aside, lowered his horn and caught the bear in thechest. But the victor was a compact mass of battle and momentum. Hisonslaught flung the bear over backward, and quickly disengaging himselfhe made another leap at his equally agile enemy. This time the battlewas longer and more various, for the bull was smaller, more active anddexterous. 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 bysuch kicking and leaping that both combatants were indistinguishablefrom the whirlwind of dust. Out of this they would emerge to standpanting in front of each other with tongues pendant and red eyesrolling. Finally the bear, nearly exhausted, made a sudden charge, thebull leaped aside, backed again with incredible swiftness, caught thebear in the belly, tossed him so high that he met the hard earth with aloud cracking of bone. The vaqueros circled about the maddened bull,set his hide thick with arrows, tripped him with the lasso. A wirylittle Mexican in yellow, galloping in on his mustang, administered thecoup de grace amidst the wild applause of the spectators, whoseshouting and clapping and stamping might have been heard by the enviousguard at the Presidio and Yerba Buena.

  As the party on the corridor broke, Rezanov found no difficulty inreaching Concha's side, for even Dona Ignacia was chattering wildlywith several other good dames who renewed their youth briefly at thebull-fight.

  "Did you enjoy that?" he asked curiously.

  "I did not look at it. I never do. But I know that you were notaffronted. You never took your eyes from those dreadful beasts."

  "I am exhilarated to know that you watched me. Yes, at a bull-fight theprimitive man in me has its way, although I have the grace to beashamed of myself afterward. In that I am at least one degree morecivilized than your race, which never repents."

  The door of one of the smaller rooms stood open, and as they tookadvantage of this oversight with a singular concert of motive, heclasped both her hands in his. "Are you angry with me?" he askedsoftly. He dared not close the door, but his back was square againstit, 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--Iquite understand: love could never be first with you. And two yearsare not so long. They quickly pass when one is busy. I shall findoccupation, and you will have no time for longings and regrets."

  They were not yet alone, women were talking in their light, high voicesnot a yard away. The hindrance, and her new loveliness in the softmantilla, the pink of the roses reflected in her throat, theprovocative curl of her mouth, sent the blood to his head.

  "You have only to say the word," he said hoarsely, "and the Juno willsail to-night."

  Never before had she seen his face so unmasked. Her voice shook intriumph 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, foreven in that moment he counted the cost, but he did not care.

  But Concha detected that second break in his voice, and turned her headsadly.

  "You would not say that to-morrow. I hate myself that I made you sayit now. I love you enough to wait forever, but I have not the courageto hand you over to your enemies."

  "You are strangely far-sighted for a young girl." And betweenadmiration and pique, his ardor suffered a chill.

  "I am no longer a young girl. In these last days it has seemed to methat secrets locked in my brain, secrets of women long dead, but ofwhose essence I am, have come forth to the light. I have suffered inanticipation. My mind has flown--flown--I have lived those two yearsuntil they are twenty, thirty, and I have lived on into old age here bythe sea, watching, watching--"

  She had dropped all pretence of coquetry and was speaking with apassionate forlornness. But before he could interrupt her, takeadvantage of the retreating voices that left them alone at last, shehad 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 wasonly a mood. Should you not return I should grieve, yes; and should Ilive as long as is common with my race, still would my heart remainyoung with your image, and with the fidelity that would be no less areligion 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 andeternal passion. Memory and the life of the imagination would be mysolace, possibly in time my happiness, but my days I should give tothis poor little world of ours; and all that one mortal, and that awoman, has to bestow upon a stranded and benighted people. It may notbe much, but I make you that promise, senor, that you will not think mea foolish, romantic girl, unworthy of the great responsibilities youhave offered me."

  "Concha!" He was deeply moved, and at the same time her words chilledhim with subtle prophecy, sank into some unexplored depth of hisconsciousness, meeting response as subtle, filling him with impatienceat the mortality of man. He glanced over his shoulder, then took herrecklessly 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 duringthe greater part of the next two years he should see the glimmer of thescythe oftener yet. For a moment it seemed to him that he felt thedark waters rise in his soul, heard the jeers of the gods at the vanityof mortal will. But the blood ran strong and warm in his veins. Heshook off the obsession, and smiled a little cynically, even as hekissed her.

  "This is the hour for romance, my dear. In the years to come, when youare very prosaically my wife with a thousand duties, and grumbling atmy exactions, your consolation will be the memory of some moment likethis, when you were able to feel romantic and sad. I wish I couldarrange for some such set of memories for myself, but I am unequal toyour divine melancholy. When I cannot see you I am cross and sulky;and just now--I am, well--philosophically happy. Some day I shall behappier, but this is well enough. And I can harbor no uglypresentiments. As I entered California I was elated with a sense ofcoming happiness, of future victories; and I prefer to dwell upon that,the more particularly as in a measure the prophetic hint has beenfulfilled. So make the most of the present. I shall see you dailydurin
g this last precious fortnight, for I am determined thisarrangement shall cease; and you must exorcise coquetry and abet mewhenever there is a chance of a word alone."

  She nodded, but she noted with a sigh that he said no more of suddenflight. She would never have consented to jeopardize the least of hisinterests, but she fain would have been besought. The experience shehad had of the vehemence and fire in Rezanov made her long for hiscomplete subjugation and the happiness it must bring to herself. Butas he smiled tenderly above her she saw that his practical brain hadsilenced the irresponsible demands of love, and although she did notwithdraw from his arms she stiffened her head.

  "I fancy I shall return home to-morrow," she said. "My mother tells methat she can live without me no longer, and that Father Abella hasreminded her that if I stay in the house of Elena Castro I shall be asfree from gossip as here. I infer that he has rated my two parents formaking a martyr of me unnecessarily, and told them it was a duty toenliven my life as much as possible before I enter upon this longperiod of probation. The grating of my room at Elena's is above alittle strip of Garden, and faces the blank wall of the next house.Sometimes--who knows?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave a gaylittle 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 Ihave talked so much that we are very hungry."

  "There is no need to deceive me," said Father Abella dryly. "You arenot the first lovers I have known, although I will admit you are by farthe most interesting, and for that reason I have had the wickedness toabet you. But I fancy the good God will forgive me. Come quickly.They are scattered now, but will go to the refectory in a moment andmiss you. Excellency, will you give your arm to Dona Ignacia and takethe seat at the head of the table? Concha, my child, I am afraid youmust console our good Don Weeliam. He is having a wretched quarter ofan hour, but has loyally diverted the attention of your mother."

  "That is the vocation of certain men," said Concha lightly.