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 embarrassed silence, disposed of
a moment more with obdurate 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 vigorously, but he spoke with great
kindness. "That, Excellency, alas, is the one point upon which we are
forced to disappoint you. Indeed, our own submission to your wishes is
contingent. This marriage cannot take place without a dispensation
from Rome and the consent of the King."
Rezanov looked at Don Jose. "You, too?" he asked curtly.
The Commandante stirred uneasily, heaved a deep sigh; he thought of the
long impatience of his Concha. "It is true," he said. "Not only would
it be impossible for my conscience to resign itself to the marriage of
my daughter with a heretic--pardon, Excellency--without the blessing of
the Pope; not only would no priest in California perform the ceremony
until it arrived, but it would mean the degradation of Governor
Arrillaga and myself, and the ruin of all your other hopes. We should
be ordered summarily to Mexico, perhaps worse, and no Russian would
ever be permitted to set foot in the Californias again. I would it
were otherwise. I know--I know--but it is inevitable. Your excellency
must see it. Even were you a Catholic, Governor Arrillaga and the
President of the Missions, at least, would not dare to countenance this
marriage without the consent of the King."
Rezanov was silent for a few minutes. In spite of the emotions of the
past few days he was astonished at the depth and keenness of his
disappointment. But never yet had he failed to realize when he was
beaten, nor to trim his sails without loss of precious time.
"Very well," he said. "I will go to St. Petersburg at the earliest
possible moment, obtain personal letters from the Tsar and proceed post
haste to Rome and Madrid. At the same time I shall arrange for the
treaty with full authority from the Tsar. Then I shall sail from Spain
to Mexico and reach here as soon as may be. It will take a long while,
the best part of two years; but I have your word--"
"You have," the three asserted with solemn emphasis.
"Very well. But there is one thing more. I am not in a diplomatic
humor. My Sitkans are starving. I must leave here with a shipload of
breadstuffs."
Again the Governor drew up his slim soldierly figure; deposited his
cigarette on the malachite ash tray. "You may be sure that we have
given that momentous question our deepest consideration. Father
Abella's suggestion that we buy your commodities for cash, and that
with our Spanish dollars you buy again of us, did not strike me
favorably at first, for it savored of sophistry. I may have failed in
every attempt to benefit and advance this Godforsaken country, but at
least I have been the honest agent of my King. But the circumstances
are extraordinary. You are about to become one of us, to do our
unhappy colony the greatest service that is in the power of any mortal,
and personally you have inspired us with affection and respect. I
have, therefore, decided that the exchange shall be made on these
terms, but that your cargo shall be received by Don Jose Arguello,
Commandante of the San Francisco Company, and held in trust until the
formal consent of the King to the purchase shall arrive."
Rezanov glowed to his finger tips. Not even the assurance of his union
with the woman of his heart, which after all had met but the skeleton
of his desires, gave him the acute satisfaction of this sudden
fulfilment of his self-imposed mission. He dropped his own official
demeanor and throwing himself across the table gripped the Governor's
hand while he poured out his thanks in a voice thick with feeling, his
eyes glittering with more than victory. He did not lose sight of his
ultimate designs and pledge himself to external friendship, but he
unwittingly conveyed the impression that Spain had that day made a
friend she ill could afford to lose; and his three visitors rose well
pleased with the culmination of the interview.
"You must stay here no longer, Rezanov," said Don Jose, as they were
taking leave. "My house is now literally your own. It will be some
weeks before the large quantities of corn and flour and other stores
you wish can be got together--for we must lay a requisition on the
fertile Mission ranchos in the valleys--and you will exchange these
narrow quarters for such poor comfort as my house affords--I take no
denial. Concha will remain at Juan Moraga's for the present."