ever impossible that
she should prattle again as she had to Santiago and Rezanov in the last
day and night; and although she felt as if straining her eyes in the
dark, her cheeks burned once more, and she rose uneasily and walked to
the window.

She returned in a moment and stood over Rosa, but her voice when she
spoke had lost its hoarseness and was cold and irritated.

"Control thyself," she said. "And go and bathe thine eyes. Wouldst
look like a tomato when it is time to pass the dulces and wines? And
think no more of thy lover until he can come out of prison and marry
thee." She drew herself away as the woman attempted to clutch her
skirts. "Go," she said. "The musicians are tuning."

IX

"The sash, Excellency?" Jon longed to see his master in full regalia
once more, and after all, was not this an embassy of a sort? But
Rezanov, who already regarded his reflection with some humor, shook his
head.

"I'll go as far as decency permits, for no one is so impressed by
external magnificence as the Spaniard. But full dress uniform and
orders are enough; an ambassador's sash and they might suspect I took
them for the children they are. Children are not always fools. My
stock is too tight. Remember that I am to dance, and am too tall for
most women's pretty little ears. And I doubt if an ear is less thirsty
for being so provocatively screened."

Jon, a "prince" whose family had fallen upon evil days long since, but
whose thin, clever fingers were no mean inheritance, unwound and
readjusted the folds of soft batiste, that most becoming neck vesture
man has ever worn. He fain would have pressed the matter of the sash,
but Rezanov, most indulgent of masters to this devoted servant, was
never patient of insistence. Jon also regretted the powdered wig and
queue, which he privately thought more befitting a fine gentleman than
his own hair, even though the latter were thick and bright. He said
tentatively:

"I notice these Californians still wear the hair long; and with their
gay ribbons and showy hats look much better no doubt than if they
followed a fashion of which it would seem they had not heard--and
perhaps do not admire. I ventured to pack two of your excellency's
wigs when we were leaving St. Petersburg--"

"Good heavens, no!" cried Rezanov, rising to his feet and casting a
last impatient glance at the mirror. "When a man has escaped from a
furnace does he run back of his own accord? My brain