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
inclemently 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
network of soft dull green and archaic pink. The Castilian rose, full
and fluted, and of a chaste and penetrating 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 perfumed 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 appeared between the vines,
and there was a low murmur 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 contraband trade and
slaying of our otter. And as for Europeans other than Spaniards, save
for an English 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
Arrillaga, to come to San Francisco for the sole purpose 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 express, 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 artlessly. "As to the beauty and variety of our
country, senor, of course you will visit our opulent south; but--"
They had dismounted at the Commandante'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
extent, 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 impenetrable 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
beautiful 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 Castile is the only imported
flower in California," he cried, with enthusiasm, for although not a
botanist, 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 butterfly?"
"Your excellency has also the habit to probe into things he deems
worthy of his attention," retorted 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 carried
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
contours, but time had spared the fine Roman nose and the white skin,
that birthright of the high-bred Castilian. Arguello presented his
family ceremoniously as the guest of honor rose and bowed with formal
deference.
"My mother, Dona Ignacia Arguello, your excellency, who unites with me
in praying that you will regard our home as yours during your sojourn
in the north. My sister, Maria de la Concepcion 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 orders 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 introduction to the
lesser luminaries, with equal courtesy but fewer periods.
Rezanov exchanged a few pleasant words with his smiling hostess before
she returned to her distracted maids preparing the dinner; but his eyes
during Arguello's declamation had wandered with a singular fidelity to
the beautiful face of the eldest 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 visited 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 sixteen 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 inherited the white skin and delicate Roman-Spanish
profile of the Moragas, but there was an intelligent 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--saving his olive skin; a grandee, modified by the
simplicities of a soldier's life, amiable and upright. Dona Ignacia
recognized in Concha the quintessence 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 received many offers of marriage and regarded men as mere
swingers of incense. Moreover, her cultivated 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 conjure 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
tentative 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 dancing 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 barbarian, as he chose
to regard her, excited the elemental 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--hateful!" 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 another 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
intrigue! 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 compliments 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 admiration.
"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
hoodwink 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 dismiss it. Russia is too
much occupied with Napoleon Bonaparte, who has had himself crowned
Emperor, 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 Bourbons that are in Europe. Bonaparte! Do you
know him? Have you seen him?"
"I have seen him insult poor Markov, our ambassador 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 assume 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 horrifies 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 himself 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 revealed. "And
if I know anything of women, I can trust her--for as long as she may be
necessary, at all events."