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 vigorously, but he spoke with great kindness. "That, Excellency, alas, is the one point upon which we are forced to dis-appoint 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 Con-cha. "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--par-don, 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.
