The Commandante of the San Francisco Company sat opposite Rezanov with his mouth open, the lines of his strong face elongated and relaxed. It was 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 cheer-fully. "What better proof would 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 my cargo and they will look upon me as an amicus humani generis to whom common rules do not apply. And I have won their sincere friendship."
"You have won mine, senor. But, though I say it, there is no more devout Catholic in the Cali-fornias than Jose Arguello. Do you know what they call me? El santo. God knows I am not, but it is not for want of the wish. Did I give my daugh-ter to a heretic, not only should I become an outcast, a pariah, but I should imperil my everlasting soul and 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 a moment. But surely, Com-mandante, in your excitement at this perfectly nat-ural 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 His Catholic Majesty's subjects in New Spain. When you have my word of honor that your daughter's faith shall never be disturbed, it is impossible you should believe that marriage with me would ruin her chances of happiness in the next world. But I doubt if your soul and conscience will have the peace you desire if you ruin her happiness in this. What pleasure do you find in the thought of an old age companioned by a heart-broken daughter?"
Don Jose turned pale and hitched his chair.
"Other maids have been balked when young, and have forgotten. Concha is but sixteen--"
"She is also unique. She will marry me or no one. Of that I am as certain as that she is the woman of women for me."
"How can you be so certain?" asked the Com-mandante sharply. "Surely you 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 fleeting vision of Dona Ignacia, slim and lovely, at the grating, with a rose in her hair. "But this tremendous passion of the heart--it passes, senor, it passes. We love the good wife, but we sometimes realize that we could 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 your daughter is one of the chosen few who take from the years what the years take from others. I am not rushing into matri-mony for the sake of a pair of black eyes and a fine figure. I have outlived the possibility of making a fool of myself if I would. Before I realized how deeply I loved your daughter I had deliberately chosen her out of all the women I have known, as my friend and companion for the various and diffi-cult ways of life which I shall be called upon to follow. Your daughter will have a high place at the Russian Court, and she will occupy it as nat-urally as if I had found her in Madrid and you in the great position to which your attainments and services entitle you."
Don Jose, despite his consternation, titillated agreeably. He privately thought no one in New Spain good enough for his daughter, and his weather-beaten self was not yet insensible to the rare visitation of winged darts tipped with honey.
But the situation was one of the most embarrassing he had ever been called upon to face, and perhaps for the first time in his direct and honest life his resolution was shaken in a crisis.
"Believe me, your excellency, I appreciate the honor you have done my house, and I will add with all my heart that never have I liked a man more.
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. He passed it to his host, who had developed a preference for Rus-sian cigarettes.
"There are other things to consider besides the happiness of your daughter and myself," he re-marked. "This alliance would mean the consolida-tion of Spanish and Russian interests on the Pacific coast. It would mean the protection of California in the almost certain event of 'American' aggres-sion. And I hear that a courier brought word again yesterday that the Russian and the Spanish fleets had sailed for these waters. I do not believe a word of it; but should it be true, I would remind you of two things: that I have the powers of the Tsar him-self in this part of the world, and that the Russian fleet is likely to arrive first."
