California -- History -- Fiction; Rezanov, Nikolai Petrovich, 1764-1807 -- Fiction
"You have won mine, senor. But, though I say it, there is no more
devout Catholic in the Californias than Jose Arguello. Do you know
what they call me? El santo. God knows I am not, but it is not for
want of the wish. Did I give my daughter to a heretic, not only should
I become an outcast, a pariah, but I should imperil my everlasting soul
and that of my best beloved child. It is impossible,
Excellency--unless, indeed, you embrace our faith."
"That is so impossible that the subject is not worth the waste of a
moment. But surely, Commandante, in your excitement at this perfectly
natural issue you are misrepresenting yourself. I do not believe,
devout Catholic as you are, that your soul is steeped in fanaticism.
You are known far and wide as the first and most intelligent of His
Catholic Majesty's subjects in New Spain. When you have my word of
honor that your daughter's faith shall never be disturbed, it is
impossible you should believe that marriage with me would ruin her
chances of happiness in the next world. But I doubt if your soul and
conscience will have the peace you desire if you ruin her happiness in
this. What pleasure do you find in the thought of an old age
companioned by a heart-broken daughter?"
Don Jose turned pale and hitched his chair. "Other maids have been
balked when young, and have forgotten. Concha is but sixteen--"
"She is also unique. She will marry me or no one. Of that I am as
certain as that she is the woman of women for me."
"How can you be so certain?" asked the Commandante sharply. "Surely
you have had little talk alone with her?"
"The heart has a language of its own. Recall your own youth, senor."
"It is true," said Don Jose, with a heavy sigh, as he had a fleeting
vision of Dona Ignacia, slim and lovely, at the grating, with a rose in
her hair. "But this tremendous passion of the heart--it passes, senor,
it passes. We love the good wife, but we sometimes realize that we
could have loved another good wife as well."
"That is a bit of philosophy I should have uttered myself,
Commandante--yesterday. But there are women and women, and your
daughter is one of the chosen few who take from the years what the
years take from others. I am not rushing into matrimony for the sake
of a pair of black eyes and a fine figure. I have outlived the
possibility of making a fool of myself if I would. Before I realized
how deeply I loved your daughter I had deliberately chosen her out of
all the women I have known, as my friend and companion for the various
and difficult ways of life which I shall be called upon to follow.
Your daughter will have a high place at the Russian Court, and she will
occupy it as naturally as if I had found her in Madrid and you in the
great position to which your attainments and services entitle you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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