XXIII
Life was very gay for a fortnight. An hour after the Commandante'ssurrender he had despatched invitations to all the young folk of thegente de razon of Monterey, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, and San Diego,and to such of the older as would brave the long journeys. TheMonterenos had arrived for the Mission entertainment, and during thenext few days the rest poured over the hills: De la Guerras, Xime'nos,Estudillos, Carrillos, Este'negas, Morenos, Cotas, Estradas, Picos,Pachecos, Lugos, Orte'gas, Alvarados, Bandinis, Peraltas, members ofthe Luis, Rodriguez, Lopez families, all of gentle blood, that made upthe society of Old California; as gay, arcadian, irresponsible, yetmoral a society as ever fluttered over this planet. Every house in thePresidio and valley, every spare room at the Mission, opened to themwith the exuberant hospitality of the country. The caballeros had theirfinest wardrobes of colored silks and embroidered botas, sombrerosladen with silver, fine lawn and lace, jewel and sash, velvet serapefor the chill of the late afternoon. The matrons brought their stiffrobes of red and yellow satin, the girls as many flowered silks andlawns, mantillas and rebosos, as the family carretas would hold. Thesquare of the Presidio was crowded from morning until midnight with thespirited horses of the country, prancing impatiently under the heavyMexican saddle, heavier with silver, made a trifle more endurable bythe blanket of velvet or cloth. No Californian walked a dozen rodswhen he had a horse to carry him.
But the horses were not always champing in the square. There was morethan one bull-bear fight, and twice a week at least they carried theirowners to the hills of the Mission ranch, or the rocky cliffs andgorges above Yerba Buena, the Indian servants following with greatbaskets of luncheon, perhaps roasting an ox whole in a trench. Thisthe Californians called barbecue and the picnic merienda.
There was dancing day and night, the tinkling of guitars, flirting offans. Rezanov vowed he would not have believed there were so many fansand guitars in the world, and suddenly remembered he had never seenConcha with either. The lady of his choice reigned supreme. Many hadtaken the long blistering journey for no other purpose than to see thefamous beauty and her Russian; the engagement was as well known as ifcried from the Mission top. The girls were surprised and delighted tofind Concha sweet rather than proud and envied her with amiableenthusiasm. The caballeros, fewer in number, for most of the men inCalifornia at that period before a freer distribution of land were onduty in the army, artfully ignored the unavowed bond, but liked Rezanovwhen he took the trouble to charm them.
Khostov and Davidov watched the loading of the Juno with a livelyregret. Never had they enjoyed themselves more, nor seen so manypretty girls in one place. Both had begun by falling in love withConcha, and although they rebounded swiftly from the blow to theirhopes, it happily saved them from a more serious dilemma; unwealthedand graceless as they were, they would have been regarded with littlefavor by the practical California father. As it was, their pleasureswere unpoisoned by regrets or rebuffs. When they were not flirting inthe dance or in front of a lattice, receiving a lesson in Spanishbehind the portly back of a duena, or clasping brown little fingersunder cover of a fan when all eyes were riveted on the death struggleof a bull and a bear, they were playing cards and drinking in theofficers' quarters; which they liked almost as well. It is true theysometimes paid the price in a cutting rebuke from their chief, but therebukes were not as frequent as in less toward circumstances, and weregenerally followed by some fresh indulgence. This, they uneasilyguessed, was not only the result of the equable state of hisexcellency's temper, but because he had a signal unpleasantness instore, and would not hazard their resignation. They had takenadvantage of an imperial ukase to enter the service of theRussian-American Company temporarily, and they knew that if they evadedany behest of Rezanov's their adventurous life in the Pacific would beover. Therefore, although they resented his implacable will, theypulled with him in outward amity; and indeed there were few of theJuno's human freight that did not look back upon that Californiaspringtime as the episode of their lives, commonly stormy ormonotonous, in which the golden tide flowed with least alloy. EvenLangsdorff, although impervious to female charms and with scientificthirst unslaked, enjoyed the Spanish fare and the society of thepriests. The sailors received many privileges, attended bull-fightsand fandangos, loved and pledged; and were only restrained fromemigration to the interior of this enchanted land of pretty girls andplentiful food by the knowledge of the sure and merciless vengeance oftheir chief. Had the rumor of war still held it might have beenotherwise, but that raven had flown off to the limbo of its kind, andthe Commandante let it be known that deserters would be summarilycaptured and sent in irons to the Juno.
In the mind of Concha Arguello there was never a lingering doubt of thequality of that fortnight between the days of torturing doubts andacute emotional upheaval, and the sailing away of Rezanov. It was truethat what he banteringly termed her romantic sadness possessed her attimes, but it served as a shadow to throw into sharper relief an almostincredible happiness. If she seldom saw Rezanov alone there was theless to disturb her, and at least he was never far from her side.There were always the delight of unexpected moments unseen, whisperedwords in the crowd, the sense of complete understanding, broken now andagain by poignant attacks of unreasoning jealousy, not only on her partbut his; quite worth the reconciliation at the lattice, while ElenaCastro, gentle duena, pitched her voice high and amused her husband sowell he sought no opportunity for response.
Then there was more than one excursion about the bay on the Juno,dinner on La Bellissima or Nuestra Senora de los Angeles, a long returnafter sundown that the southerners might appreciate the splendor of theafterglow when the blue of the water was reflected in the lower sky, tomelt into the pink fire above, and all the land swam in a pearly mist.
Once the Commandante took twenty of his guests, a gay cavalcade, to hisrancho, El Pilar, thirty miles to the south: a long valley flanked bythe bay and the eastern mountains on the one hand, and a high rangedense with forests of tall thin trees on the other. But the valleyitself was less Californian than any part of the country Rezanov hadseen. Smooth and flat and free of undergrowth and set with at least tenthousand oaks, it looked more like a splendid English park, longpreserved, than the recent haunt of naked savages. There were deer andquail in abundance, here and there an open field of grain. Long beardsof pale green moss waved from the white oaks, wild flowers, golden redand pale blue, burst underfoot. There were hedges of sweet briar,acres of lupins, purple and yellow. Altogether the ideal estate of anobleman; and Rezanov, who had liked nothing in California so well,gave his imagination rein and saw the counterpart of the castle of hisancestors rise in the deep shade of the trees.
Don Jose's house was a long rambling adobe, red tiled, with manybedrooms and one immense hall. Beyond were a chapel and a dozenoutbuildings. Dinner was served in patriarchal style in the hall, theCommandante--or El padrone as he was known here--and his guests at theupper end of the table; below the salt, the vaqueros, their wives andchildren, and the humble friar who drove them to prayer night andmorning. The friar wore his brown robes, the vaqueros their black andsilver and red in honor of the company, their women glaringhandkerchiefs of green or red or yellow about their necks, even pinnedback and front on their shapeless garments; and affording a finevegetable garden contrast to the delicate flower bed surrounding thepadrone.
There was a race track on the ranch and many fine horses. After siestathe company mounted fresh steeds and rode off to applaud the feats ofthe vaqueros, who, not content with climbing the greased pole,wrenching the head of an unfortunate rooster from his buried body asthey galloped by, submitting the tail of an oiled pig in full flight tothe same indignity, gave when these and other native diversions wereexhausted, such exhibitions of riding and racing as have never beenseen out of California. As lithe as willow wands, on slender horses asgraceful as themselves, they looked like meteors springing throughspace, and there was no trick of the circus they did not know byi
nstinct, and translate from gymnastics into poetry. Even Rezanovshared the excitement of the shouting, clapping Californians, andConcha laughed delightedly when his cap waved with the sombreros.
"I think you will make a good Californian in time," she said as theyrode homeward.
"Perhaps," said Rezanov musingly. His eyes roved over the magnificentestate and at the moment they entered a portion of it that deepened towoods, so dense was the undergrowth, so thick the oak trees. Herethere was but a glimpse, now and again, of the mountains swimming inthe dark blue mist of the late afternoon, the moss waved thickly fromthe ancient trees; over even the higher branches of many rolled acascade of small brittle leaves, with the tempting opulence of itspoisonous sap. The path was very abrupt, cut where the immensespreading trees permitted, and Rezanov and Concha had no difficulty infalling away from the chattering, excited company.
"Tell me your ultimate plans, Pedro mio," said Concha softly. "You aredreaming of something this moment beyond corn and treaties."
"Do you want that final proof?" he asked, smiling. "Well, if I couldnot trust you that would be the end of everything, and I know that Ican. I have long regarded California as an absolutely necessary fieldof supplies, and since I have come here I will frankly say that couldI, as the representative of the Tsar in all this part of the world,make it practically my own, I should be content in even a permanentexile from St. Petersburg. I could attract an immense colony here andin time import libraries and works of art, laying the foundation of agreat and important city on that fine site about Yerba Buena. But nowthat these kind people have practically adopted me I cannot repay theirhospitality by any overt act of hostility. I must be content eitherslowly to absorb the country, in which case I shall see no great resultin my lifetime, or-and for this I hope--what with the mess Bonaparte ismaking of Europe, every state may be at the others' throat before long,including Russia and Spain. At all events, a cause for rupture wouldnot be far to seek, and it would need no instigation of mine todespatch a fleet to these shores. In that case I should be sent withit to take possession in the name of the Tsar, and to deal with thesesimple, kind--and inefficient people, my dear girl--as no other Russiancould. They cannot hold this country. Spain could not--would not, atall events, for she has not troops enough here to protect a territoryhalf its size--hold it against even the 'Americans,' should they intime feel strong enough to push their way across the westernwilderness. It is the destiny of this charming Arcadia to disappear;and did Russia forego an opportunity to appropriate a domain thatoffers her literally everything except civilization, she would beunworthy of her place among nations. Moreover--a beneficent triumphimpossible to us otherwise--with a powerful and flourishing colony upand down this coast, and sending breadstuffs regularly to our otherpossessions in these waters until the natives, immigrants, and exileswere healthy, vitalized beings, it would be but a question of a fewyears before we should force open the doors of China and Japan." Hecaught Concha from her horse and strained her to him in the mountingardor of his plunge down the future. "You must resent nothing!" hecried. "You must cease to be a Spanish woman when you become my wife,and help me as only you can in those inevitable years I have mappedout; and not so much for myself as for Russia. My enemies have soughtto persuade three sovereigns that I am a visionary, but I have alreadyaccomplished much that met with resentment and ridicule when I broachedit. And I know my powers! I tingle with the knowledge of my abilityto carry to a conclusion every plan I have thought worth the holdingwhen the ardor of conception was over. I swear to you that deathalone--and I believe that nothing is further aloof--shall prevent mygiving this country to Russia before five years have passed, and withinanother brief span the trade of China and Japan. It is a gloriousdestiny for a man--one man!--to pass into history as the Russian of hiscentury who has done most to add to the extent and the wealth and thepower of his empire! Does that sound vainglorious, and do you resentit? You must not, I tell you, you must not!"
Concha had never seen him in such a mood. Although he held her soclosely that the horses were angrily biting each other, she felt thatfor once there was nothing personal in his ardor. His eyes wereblazing, but they stared as if a great and prophetic panorama had risenin this silent wood, where the long faded moss hung as motionless as ifby those quiet waters that even the most ardent must cross in his time.She felt his heart beat as she had felt it before against her softbreast, but she knew that if he thought of her at all it was but as apart of himself, not as the woman he impatiently desired. But she wassensible of no resentment, either for herself or her race, which,indeed, she knew to be but a wayfarer in the wilderness engaged in abrief chimerical enterprise. For the first time she felt herindividuality melt into, commingle with his: and when he lowered hisgaze, still with that intensity of vision piercing the future, her owneyes reflected the impersonalities of his; and in time he saw it.
Rezanov Page 24
