not I
witness the betrothal? She only mocks me when I beg her to tell me if
she loves him, languishes, or sings a bar of some one of our beautiful
songs with ridiculous words. But she does. She did not sleep last
night. Her room is next to mine. No, it is of Rezanov she thinks, and
always. Those proud, silent girls, who jest when others would weep and
use many words and must die without sympathy--they have tragedy in
their souls, ay yi! And you think she is fortunate? True she is
beautiful, she is La Favorita, she receives many boxes from Mexico, and
she has won the love of this Russian. But--I have not dared to remind
her--I remembered it only yesterday--she came into this world on the
thirteenth of a month, and he into her life but one day before the
thirteenth of another--new style! True some might say that it was an
escape, but if he came on the twelfth, it was on the thirteenth she
began to love him--on the night of the ball; of that I am sure."

Rafaella shuddered and crossed herself. "Poor Concha! Perhaps in the
end she will always stand apart like that. Truly she is not as others.
I have always said it. Thanks be to Mary it was Luis that wooed me,
not the Russian, for I might have been tempted. True his eyes are
blue, and only the black could win my heart. But the court of St.
Petersburg! Dios de mi vida! Did I lie awake at night and think of
Concha Arguello in red velvet and jewels all over, I should hate her.
But no--to-day--I cannot. Two years! Have I not waited six? It is
eternity when one loves and is young."

"They come," said Elena.

The cavalcade was descending the sand hills on the left, Rezanov in
full uniform between the Commandante and Luis Arguello and followed by
a picked escort of officers from Presidio and Fort. The Californians
wore full-dress uniform of white and scarlet, Don Jose a blue velvet
serape, embroidered in gold with the arms of Spain.

As they dismounted Rezanov bowed ceremoniously to the party on the
corridor, and they returned his salutation gravely, suddenly silent.
He walked directly over to Concha.

"We will go in together," he said. "It matters nothing what they
think. I kneel beside no one else."

And Concha, with the air of leading an honored guest to the banquet,
turned and walked with him into the dark little church.

"Why did you not wear a white mantilla?" he whispered. "I do not like
that black thing."

"I am not a bride. I knew we shoul