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Show Mispress f Monterey VIRGINIA STIVERS BARTLETT Virginia Stivers Bartlett WNU Service CUAPTER XIX Continned 16 Peart) Fages was looking off across the water with that dreaming, dream-ing, questioning expression that annoyed an-noyed Eulalia so. "I?" he asked. "Yes, I have my longings, though to me California is the most beautiful spot in all the world. Still I am homesick for places I have never seen." The men looked at Pedro Fages with sympathy as they turned their mounts around and started back to the presidio. But Eulalia had not heard her husband's words. Her head was whirling with her own thoughts. Again she heard Dage-let's Dage-let's impulsive word, "Cornel" '- Her thoughts were interrupted by the gentle voice of Padre Lasuen. "It was a beautiful fiesta, Senora La Gobernadora," he said, "a real event in the history of California, this entertaining of the first distinguished distin-guished visitors to reach our shores. But now I must hasten ahead to prepare another feast for them, a feast of the soul, at our little mission mis-sion San Carlos de Carmelo. Until then, adios!" CHAPTER XX Along the darkening Via Cruces a mounted messenger flew ahead of the Governor and his guests to warn the fathers at Carmelo that the party was approaching. Don Pedro and his guests lingered along the way, deep in talk. "It has been wonderful, this visit here, Monsieur le Gouverneur," La Perouse was saying. "Sans doute, this is one of the wonder countries of the world. Me, I foresee great things. These bays and harbors full of ships from all the world ports. And strange people from all over the universe. I see commerce, trade and great cities. What is to prevent it? Ah, if you or I or some one of these restless people who travel and explore could only find that Northwest North-west Passage!" "If it exists," replied Fages thoughtfully. "Exist it does! I am sure of that." "Then why isn't it found? But never mind. If, as you say, California Cali-fornia is to become such a great place, teeming with ships and peo-poe, peo-poe, I hope it will be after I. am dead. I should hate to see it that way. But if it happens, It will not be in my time." Still deep in thought, her febrile Imagination tricking her into the maddest imaginings, La Goberna--y dora rode quietly by her husband's side. It had been impossible for her to have another word with Dagelet, who rode, also wrapped in thought, close to the side of the Count. The Governor and his guests cantered can-tered up to the gate to the compound com-pound which surrounded the mission mis-sion buildings, and left their horses with servants. At the door they were greeted by Padre Lasuen, swinging the aspergillus. With welcoming wel-coming murmur he sprinkled them with holy water, and they entered the church. How could the French visitors know that it was a matter of pride and sacrifice that the altar was illuminated il-luminated with a hundred candles in their honor, or that the ceremonial ceremo-nial vestments Padre Lasuen wore were only brought out on the highest high-est occasions? To them It seemed so simple, so crude, so nearly pitiful . . . but their religious feelings were deeply touched, and the sonorous Latin of the old pioneer priest, thanking God for their safe delivery to these distant dis-tant shores, and begging Him for a safe conduct across the waters, home, brought tears to many eyes. Eulalia sank Into the chair provided pro-vided for her, and let her eyes rove about at the people around. There was Indizuela, her face stolid, impassive. im-passive. And there was Angustias. She was weepingl "What, in heaven's name," thought La Gobernadora, "ails her? I must find out." And there was her husband, and La Perouse, the dark of the Governor's Gover-nor's head and toe silvery white of the Count's peruke contrasting strongly in the candlelight And there was Le Pante Dagelet ... Again her thoughts began to I whirl. A sudden revelation came to her. If she sailed away from j California with the French expedi tion, she would become Dagelct's mistress. She brushed her forehead hastily with trembling fingers. She, to belong to another man than Pedro Fages! Was it possible? The thought struck like a blow, and stunned her for a brief spell. Her knees bent automatically in the genuflections of the service. She stood, knelt and sat automatically, her lips murmured responses. Her bewildered mind began consciously ' functioning again. Cautiously she ' turned over the thought of being i Dagelet's mistress while the low tones of Fray Lasuen's devout voice I droned on. Another man ... to make love ' to her. She said it over and over In the rnylhm of the litany her lips spoke. Familiarity with the idea made it piquant . . . another man, not Pedro Fages, with his rough, tempestuous, robust love-making, to which she was responding less and less as time went on. She glanced at her husband from the corner of her eye. How well she knew him! Every line, every feature ... a tiny blood-vessel in the corner of his eye, like a question mark ... a large vein on his temple tem-ple that swelled and throbbed at times . . . the feeling of his hands, roughened and coarse when he caressed ca-ressed her. The smell of his clothes. Ah! Horses, leather, perspiration. Would it be difficult to change that for another man? A man well groomed, with delicate hands, a sensitive mouth not buried in a beard? A man whose every movement move-ment and gesture was graceful, deliberate de-liberate . . . She shivered and clasped her warm hands together. And then she thought, Dagelet does smell so sweet! "Gloria.- Gloria!" sang the choir and the congregation. "Gloria! Gloria!" sang Eulalia. She lifted her eyes to the altar with Its hundred candles. There Junipero Serra had stood, quenching the flames of seven candles in the blood that poured from his breast . . ..there he had lain in his coffin. And there beneath the floor at the foot of the altar, lay his bones. But suddenly it seemed that everywhere ev-erywhere she looked she saw his eyes, staring at her from the lights, looking out from the painted sockets of the holy images, sorrowful, accusing. ac-cusing. She shivered again, for a cold breath seemed to rise from Junipero Juni-pero Serra's tomb, and blow upon her. She chafed her hands together, for now they were cold, clammy. Would this service never end! Just when she thought she could not bear it for another instant, she heard Fray Lasuen pronounce the benediction. She staggered to her feet while the procession of choir boys and acolytes passed. Then Don Pedro took her arm, and she stumbled from the church. In the compound outside a great fire had been lighted, for the fathers at Carmel had planned a fiesta of their own in honor of the Frenchmen. French-men. La Perouse spoke to the Governor. Gov-ernor. "Sacre coeur," he said, frankly wiping his eyes, "but what a scene to touch the heart! Mon Dieu, Monsieur Mon-sieur le Gouverneur, what you Spanish Span-ish pioneers have done in this country! coun-try! Ah, I can not say any more than I have said, how it touches the heart!" "Thank you, Senor el Conde," said the Governor gravely. They were moving toward seats that had been prepared for them in a ring around the fire. Eulalia noticed Dagelet maneuvering to reach her side. "That sacre pere, your Francois Lasuen," went on the Count with Gallic emotion, "what a saint is he. He is the most worthy, respectable man I have ever met His mildness, mild-ness, charity and affection for these unutterably stupid Indians is beyond expression, Monsieur!" The gentlemen stood while Eulalia Eula-lia seated herself with a queenly air. Dagelet waited until his superior su-perior officer was ensconced in a great armchair beside the Governor, Gover-nor, then slipped to the ground at La Gobernadora's feet Don Pedro looked at him with a good-natured twinkle. "We are all here, your Majesty," he remarked to his lady, "even to the court jester at your feet." Dagelet hugged his knees with a smile, and looked inquiringly at La Perouse, who translated the remark for him. "Tell his Excellency," he answered, an-swered, "it is a privilege to be here. And tell him, please," he added as an afterthought, "that if it would please the lady, I would stretch out on the ground for her foot-stool, like that young savage slave of hers, if she would permit" Eulalia gasped at the daring. La Perouse gave his young friend a reprimanding glance, and translated translat-ed his remarks to the Governor as he saw fit Closer to the fire they saw Fermin Lasuen appear, and talk with a group of half-naked Indian boys who were preparing some game. "There is the holy man among his dark sheep," remarked La Perouse. "Yes, he is a holy man indeed," replied Fages. "Junipero Serra was a true saint but the two are very different For instance, you would not have been privileged to see an Indian ceremonial cere-monial if Junipero Serra were Padre Pad-re Presidente. He did his best to put down every evidence of the barbarities bar-barities the Indians practiced, even their harmless games. Yes, he was different. Even the appearance of the two is different Lasuen is a smaller, more wiry man than Serra. Ser-ra. He is very pious, but very human, hu-man, our Fray Fermin." "I would have been interested in Serra. But I am glad Lasuen is less strict for it is splendid to see these Indian dances." "Yes. Fray Lasuen says, with a smile of tolerance, that they are only children, and must play. And they have grown too old to learn new games. Another priest you would have admired was Fray Pa-lou. Pa-lou. He was a Mallorcan, as was Serra, and after serving here a little lit-tle while as Padre Presidente after Serra's death, has retired to Mexico Mex-ico where he is writing a life of his Brother Junipero." He laughed suddenly. "But all the priests that have come to California have not been saints, by any means. We had two here for a while, and please do not embarrass me by asking how they got here, who were fiends sent straight from Hell, as good Junipero used to say. One was Fray Mariano Rubi, and the other Fray Bartolome Gili. A crapulous pair!" He laughed uproariously. "Mon Dieu! They sound like some of our famous French friars of the moyen age. And what became of them?" "Por Dios, their fate was too good for them! One of them was put on the Manila galleon as chaplain, and he sails annually from Manila to Acapulco and back, trip after trip, and is never allowed to set foot on land. That is a terrible punishment punish-ment for the poor man is seasick all the time. The other is a chaplain chap-lain in a prison, and is virtually a prisoner himself. I heaved ai sigh of relief when those two were deported from California." "Although they did add to the gaiety gai-ety of the place," put in Eulalia. "One never knew what they were going to do." "What!" exclaimed the Governor, "my lady speaks again! She has been so quiet ever since the meri-enda, meri-enda, I was afraid she was displeased dis-pleased or ill! How is it with you, querida, are you . . .?" Eulalia could feel Dagelet's fingers fin-gers smoothing the hem of the green riding habit There was a low thud of tom-toms, a beating of rattles, punctuated Dy suaaen savage shrieks and screams. A long queue of nearly naked Indian youths began be-gan dancing around the fire, and while the games and dances lasted all conversation died, except for a quiet unheard whispering that passed under cover of the excitement excite-ment between Eulalia and Dagelet. "You are most beautiful in the firelight, your Majesty," murmured the man. "Your beauty gleams out of the dark, amid this rude setting, like an exotic jewel." The woman sighed, and moved her hand until it touched his shoulder. shoul-der. The fire was darkened for a moment as a group of dancers postured pos-tured before it He reached for the hand, and again Eulalia felt subtle excitement when his lips kissed her palm. "Prenez garde!" she murmured. Then, after a moment "When you said, when you said 'Come!' this morning, on the cliff . . . did you mean it?" Dagelet drew away ever so slightly. slight-ly. "Ah, but yes! At the time." "At the time! What do you . . .?" "Sh!" The chanting of the Indian dancers danc-ers had died down to an ominous silence. Only the crackling of the fire and the wind in the trees was audible. The performers filed into the darkness, silently. Then in a moment mo-ment another group bounded into the firelight, grotesque, with strange headdresses and bows and arrows for a dance of the hunters. Again the tom-toms and rattle, grunts and shrieks. Eulalia shivered. She whispered again, "Please explain ex-plain . . ." "I was carried away by the tenderness ten-derness of the moment. My selfishness selfish-ness overcame me. Forgive me. I could not carry you away . . ." "Away from what? This? Loneliness, Lone-liness, desolation, neglect? Do you think I am mad, to prefer to stay here?" Dagelet peered at her in the firelight fire-light Indeed her eyes did look a little mad. What was going to happen? hap-pen? He reached again for her hand and patted it soothingly. "It is I who am mad," he breathed. "You do not really wish to come, I would not wish to, to . . ."He stopped, and cursed to himself. Those were not the right words. She clutched his shoulder until her finger-nails bit into his flesh. "You make it difficult for me," whispered Eulalia. "For you have asked me to come, and I am coming. com-ing. Do not worry about it Just rest content and happy in the knowledge knowl-edge that when you sail, I shall be with you." "No, no, Madame, it is too great a sacrifice for you to . . ." His voice was rising, and Eulalia murmured "Sh!" They were silent for a moment, watching the dancers. Dagelet's brain was whirling. The lady was determined! And if a lady were determined de-termined ... He stole a glance at the lady's husband, the powerful Governor of the California s, his bulk solid and imposing in the half-light How good a swordsman was he? How true a shot? Visions of duels, of pursuit by the Spanish Armada, of international complications passed through his mind. Was he laying too much stress on the Latin understanding under-standing of affair de coeur? He must not do this, it was madness, sheer insanity. "It is not too great a sacrifice for me, mon ami," the lady was breathing in his ear. "I am willing to make it And what is more," she leaned far over as though to adjust ad-just a shoe latchet, and looked straight into his eyes, her own glowing glow-ing feverishly, "what is more, if I stay . . . if I do not go ... I am afraid I will have to confess to my husband that you . . . that you have made love to me," she hissed triumphantly. Dagelet dropped his head to his knees with a groan of despair. But he recovered himself suddenly. La tendresse . . . that is what was needed now. He fumbled half-heartedly for the lady's hand again. He must kiss it. "Poor lady," he thought, as he felt her warm fingers. He felt a tremor pass through her, and soon she whispered, "And all that is left to decide is where and when . . ." Dagelet thought quickly. The nearness of the woman, her real appeal, ap-peal, the sound of the thudding Indian In-dian rhythm, savage, passionate, moved him. He shrugged his shoulders. shoul-ders. After all, why not? There had been elopements before, and there would be again. And the lady was determined. (TO BE CONTINUED) |