"The good padre tells me that this rose of Cas-tile is the only imported flower in California," he cried, with enthusiasm, for although not a bot-anist, 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 butter-fly?"
"Your excellency has also the habit to probe into things he deems worthy of his attention," re-torted 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 car-ried 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 con-tours, but time had spared the fine Roman nose and the white skin, that birthright of the high-bred Castilian. Arguello presented his family ceremo-niously as the guest of honor rose and bowed with formal deference.
"My mother, Dona Ignacia Arguello, your ex-cellency, who unites with me in praying that you will regard our home as yours during your so-journ in the north. My sister, Maria de la Con-cepcion 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 or-ders 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 intro-duction to the lesser luminaries, with equal cour-tesy but fewer periods.
Rezanov exchanged a few pleasant words with his smiling hostess before she returned to her dis-tracted maids preparing the dinner; but his eyes during Arguello's declamation had wandered with a singular fidelity to the beautiful face of the eld-est 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 vis-ited 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 six-teen 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 in-herited the white skin and delicate Roman-Span-ish profile of the Moragas, but there was an in-telligent 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--sav-ing his olive skin; a grandee, modified by the sim-plicities of a soldier's life, amiable and upright.
Dona Ignacia recognized in Concha the quintes-sence 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 re-ceived many offers of marriage and regarded men as mere swingers of incense. Moreover, her cul-tivated 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 ****** 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 con-jure 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.
