Rezanov [62]
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."
XX
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
"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."
XX
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