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Show Mispress of Monterey VIRGINIA STIVERS BARTLETT CHAPTER XVII Continued 14 When next Pedro Fages heard of Junipero Serra, he was already buried. bur-ied. The days that had elapsed from the hour that he had said an embittered farewell to Francisco Palou, riding through the rain to the side of his dying brother, the Governor Gov-ernor had spent in a silence so great that no one had dared disturb it. No ne knew how far, or where, he traveled with only his horse as companion. But he was seen, a lonely figure, tragic, aloof, along the bleak crags; sometimes walking, walk-ing, one hand tugging his beard, the other clenched behind him, the faithful horse following with bent neck, cropping at the scant grasses; or riding furiously with the wind. , On the night of the christening, ia Gobernadora took her to her bed and did not rise from it for days, defending herself from the Governor's black mood and despair with a fever that burned her hollow-eyed. hollow-eyed. The people of the Presidio of San Francicso trod softly during the crises of their Governor and his lady. The women whispered, askance, as-kance, in corners, and took the part of La Gobernadora in her attitude toward her husband. .But the men remained silent, or cursed softly 2ijen the lady's name was men-. men-. tioned. As though to mock Don Pedro, when the news of the Padre Presi- dente's death arrived, the day was clear, sparkling, as sometimes the days are in the San Francisco country, coun-try, in late August and early September. Sep-tember. When he received the message, Don Pedro went straight to La Gob-ernadora's Gob-ernadora's room for the first time in days, and stood before her formally. for-mally. "He is dead," he said curtly. Eulalia closed her eyes. Still the Governor stood silently, awaiting some word from his wife. After a while she opened her eyes. "I am sorry," she said softly. "It must be a relief to you to know that it is over." She tried to sit upright. up-right. '"Will you help me? she ' asked. "I think I should like to get i up today. It is the first time I have ' seen the sun for such a long time." "I will call Angustias ..." "No, please. You can wrap me in a cover, and carry me outside, if you will." He bundled her into a quilt, and took her in his arms without with-out altering his expression. Light as a child she was, as he carried her outdoors, and Into the golden sunlight. Servants hurried with j chairs, Angustias followed with the 1 - hahv. j Then the people of the presidio were amazed to see the Governor, his youngest-born in his arms, sit- I ting quietly beside his lady, taking I the air. I "She has won him over, our beau- I tiful Gobernadora!" whispered the ! women happily. "Gracias a Dios!" But the men glowered at the do- ! mestic scene, and muttered, "She has won, the zorral" Then all uncovered and knelt hast- lly as the bells began tolling for ; the passing of Junipero Serra. Both men and women were wrong. A few days later a small package and a letter were brought to the Coyernor. It was the last letter Cunipero Serra had written, to be opened after his death. And the package . . . Pedro Fages opened I it before he opened the letter. He found a small square of grayish-! grayish-! brown cloth, coarse and worn thin, made into a scapular. He did not need Francisco Palou's accompany-' accompany-' ing note to tell him what it was, but held it in his hands a moment, then opening the throat of his leather jerkin, slipped the scapular around tois neck by its cord until the blessed scrap of Junipero Serra's robe rested rest-ed on the strong arch of his breast. Then he picked up the letter and read the opening words, "My beloved be-loved son . . ." ! It. was obviously the letter of a ' very sick man; one at the point of death. The thought rambled; the sentences staggered up- and downhill. down-hill. He spoke of hours they had spent together on the march, of the hundred little black heaps, scattered scat-tered the length of California which had been camp-fires they had shared. i "If I had been a soldier, or you a ! priest." he had written at one point, "I could have understood you bet-j bet-j ter, Pedro my son, but I could not have loved you more." During all the perusal, the Governor's Gov-ernor's eyes had been filled with ..tears, so that he had many times - ""Vto dry them. But at the last para-' para-' graph a flash of rage dried the 1 tears . . . i "When all else had fallen away j from me," said the faint lines, "I had hoped that your faithful wife ' could accomplish that which was impossible. In our talks together ! she had promised that she would intercede with you for our friend-! friend-! ship, and for the founding of the Mission of Santa Barbara. But that ; has failed, for you have made no ' sign. And that is not Dona Eula- lia's fault, for she has tried. I had hoped you would listen to her when i I i she told you the messages I have sent; of my trust, and confidence in you ..." The Governor read no further, but crumpling the letter in his hand went to seek his wife. He found her leaning over the crude cradle, filled inconsistently with laces and pillows where lay his little daughter. Roughly he pulled Eulalia away from the infant, and stood before the cradle. "You have no right to touch that child!" he said, his face working with rage. "You a deceitful, lying woman, lower than the low!" Eulalia put both hands to her face as she staggered back. "What do you mean? What is It? What has happened?" Pedro Fages stretched the letter toward her. "Read it, read every word . . ." She read rapidly until she reached the words that had sent the Governor Gover-nor raging to her. She let the letter slip to the floor as she stood with trembling lips, her hands pressed over her heart, staring at her husband. hus-band. "You made promises to him . . . to help him when he was desperate! You kept me from him when he was sick, dying! You kept me from him when he was laid in the grave. You drove him to that grave with your false friendship and your empty promises. God knows what your plots and schemes were, but they The Governor Seized the Count's Hand Gratefully. will never succeed, for you are a murderess!" He stopped as though the word choked him, then putting his hand to his throat, flung the accusation ac-cusation at her again. "Murderess!" Eulalia took a wavering step toward to-ward him, her hands outstretched as though to ward off bludgeons, then sank at his feet. CHAPTER XVIII The Lady Governor, La Gobernadora, Gober-nadora, returned to Monterey with her husband in a pleased, unusual and utterly unaccountable state of complete subjugation. Unaccountable, at least, to his Excellency: If Dona Eulalia had a confidante, and having one, confided in her, much might have been learned. But the Governor went his way with a little sense of guilt after his outburst in San Francisco, and enjoyed the favors of his docile wife greatly. He enjoyed watching her nurse the child, who flourished like a wild-flower; he enjoyed seeing her beauty re-blossom; and watched the airs of the Monterey peninsula give his lady's cheeks a clarity and glow that had never graced them before. The lady herself drifted for two whole years in this state of docility. She even grew to enjoy the simple social pleasures of the presidio; the clam bakes and the dances, the gossip gos-sip with other women of the colony. Sometimes in the midst of some simple gaiety she would pause, and her mind would grope as though to remember something. Then she would recall her grievance, and withdraw into herself. California! Here she was, after two years! And she had vowed she would be in Mexico City before that! She would wring her hands helplessly. There was nothing to do. Nowhere to turn. Junipero Serra . . . she shuddered. He was in his grave. And Nicolas Soler, with his wild dreams of the governorship, had slowly but surely gone blind and returned to Mexico. Surely, all who had crossed Junipero Serra suffered. suf-fered. And Indizuela often she looked at the girl, lissome, brown, mysterious, who served her master the Governor, like a dog, and wondered. won-dered. Something might be done there . . . But days, months, years slipped by, and nothing happened. Nothing happened to Eulalia. She sat in front of her mirror and scanned her black tresses for silver threads, frowning, with a sick fear at her heart. But events marched, nevertheless, around the lady. And though she was unaware of them, their influence influ-ence reached her, penetrated her defenses. Eulalia Celis de Fages found the white hair she had feared finding, set her teeth, pulled it, then wept on her husband's breast in the gubernatorial gub-ernatorial bed. And the Governor smiled, and liked it. Pedro Fages went about long delayed de-layed and heart-breaking plans for the mission to Santa Barbara, and still another, Mission La Purisima. He wrote scathing diatribes on the laziness, bestiality, gambling, profligacy prof-ligacy and immorality of a little pueblo, El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora de Porciuncula la Reina de Los Angeles, An-geles, which the natives called Los Angeles. (The diatribes did no good.) On a bright sunny day In August, 1784, about the time that Eulalia gave birth to her California flower, there was a great hubbub in the harbor of New York city. All the notables of the new nation were at hand to greet a distinguished visitor, visi-tor, who, with a love for the young country in his young heart, had traveled across the ocean to pay a visit of congratulation. There were public receptions, congressional honors. George Washington extended extend-ed the hospitality of Mount Vernon to the guest. From France came Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves Guilbert Motier, Marquis de La Fayette, general and statesman. Two years and a month later two ships sailed grandly into the Bay of Monterey, as whales frisked and blew around them. France was wondering won-dering about America . . . thoughtful thought-ful about what country lay west of that nation visited by the Marquis de La Fayette. Dreaming, perhaps, that another empire might lie beyond be-yond the mountains and inland seas, the deserts and plains, west of the mighty Father of Waters. So His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVI of France sent two ships around the world, to visit California, Califor-nia, under the leadership of an accomplished ac-complished scientist and gallant gentleman, the Comte Jean Francois Fran-cois Galaup de La Perouse. It happened one gray morning in September that Don Esteban Martinez, Marti-nez, commanding two Spanish frigates, frig-ates, the old San Carlos and the Princesa, that lay in the Bay of Monterey, saw two lofty ships loom out of the fog for a moment, before be-fore disappearing. Then they were reported by a lookout on shore, and all day watchers saw them glide like phantom ships out of the mists. At night they disappeared entirely. Morning brought sunshine, and a closer view of the ships. Don Pedro ordered Don Esteban to send out two pilots, and watched the little pilot boat put out toward the drifting drift-ing strangers. Through his glasses he strove to make out the flags they flew. "What are they? Who are they?" breathed Eulalia eagerly, her chin on his shoulder. He propped the glasses before her eyes, holding her in his arm. - "Look and see, perhaps you can tell better than I." "I seel . . . Oh! A fleur de lis! . . . "Frenchmen! Yes, you are right! That will be the expedition of whom I have been advised by the Viceroy. La ... La ... La Perouse . . . the Conde de La Perouse." "A count!" shrilled Eulalia. She snatched the glasses from him and pointed them as though she expected to see the French gentleman smile at her. "Ah!" she said after a long un satisfying look. "We must prepare to entertain them I suppose." She said it very calmly, but her heart was aflutter. Two shiploads of French gentlemen, and a count; to her that meant news of the world for which she longed, news of la belle France, of Spain, of opera, books, theater, coiffures, modes .... As she rode back to the presidio to prepare for the entertainment of mind ran over the articles of her own wardrobe, jewels and cosmetics. cosmet-ics. "Now," she sang, "praise God, something will happen!" It was late afternoon before the frigates, the Astrolabe and the Boussole were safely at anchor, and the Governor, who had not left off watching, saw two long-boats put out for shore, seeming to thread their way among the whales diving and spouting about them. As the boats landed, strong barelegged bare-legged Indians assisting the sailors who leaped into the water, Pedro Fage stepped forward to greet a pleasant round-faced officer, in immaculate im-maculate epauletted uniform and white curled peruke, and accompanied accom-panied by several other gentlemen. For an instant, even while he had his hand stretched in welcome, he had a moment's panic. These were Frenchmen, and he spoka no French, that is no decent French. But the Comte de La Perouse was already greeting him in broken friendly Spanish, and the Governor seized the Count's hand gratefully. When Don Pedro invited La Perouse Pe-rouse and his aide, Le Pante Dage-let, Dage-let, a young man who spoke no Spanish at all, to dine with him, saying that his wife expected theri, the stranger raised his eyebrows, and accepted. "His wife!" he said in French aside to his aide. "Surely there are no ladies here in this God-forsaken spot!" As they entered the adobe palacio they saw La Gobernadora framed in candlelight La Perouse snatched his three-cornered three-cornered gold-laced hat from his faultless peruke. So did Le Pante Dagelet Both gentlemen bowed from the hips, deeply, amazedly. The lady greeted them In French, with a slight hesitation and a tiny accent of Castilian that the gentle men found delightful. All through the dinner, which, though strange to their palates, they relished, they watched La Gobernadora Goberna-dora in surprise. The deference, their obvious curiosity told the lady of their admiration with every look and gesture. So, though she was bursting with things to say things which must be said she played the part of the Lady Governor with dignity and chaste smiles, keeping a wifely silence while her lord and master made speech with his guests. But when the Governor and his guests pulled their chairs around the open fire. La Perouse began speaking. "We have been here in your California Cali-fornia but a few hours, Monsieur le Gouverneur," he said, "and have already al-ready met many surprises. First, it was a surprise to find the place. What fogs! Is the weather this way all the time? And then the whales! Pof! I did not know they smelled so badly, when they blow that beautiful beau-tiful geyser! It is a very bad perfume." per-fume." Pedro Fages laughed defensively. "We do not smell that ashore here." La Gobernadora smiled. "Very often," she murmured softly soft-ly in French. The Governor looked at her sharply. sharp-ly. La Perouse laughed. "It is to be hoped not," he replied in the same tongue. 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