The bride has reached the church steps. Deftly her feet disengage themselves from the silken loops used for stirrup; nimbly she reaches ground. Quickly the following señoritas are at her side, while peon grooms lead away the horses. "Viva! Viva! The Señorita Mendoza! Viva! Viva!" Then from some one: "Viva! the Señorita doña's bridesmaids!" "Ah! Ah! Look!" cried many. Morando, on coal-black steed, came through the gate and slowly to the church door. Comandante of all California he was now, promotion from guardian of pueblo San José to post commander at Yerba Buena having been succeeded by transfer to Monterey presidio; and, finally, came the command of all the land forces. With him rode, as groomsmen, the presidio commanders of Yerba Buena, of Monterey, of Santa Barbara, and of San Diego, and accompanied by many caballeros. Señor Mendoza, now Governor Mendoza, was horsed on old Mercurio falling into years, still peerless for speed in all the valley. Flanked by members of his council and the junta departmental the Governor made his way up to the church. With sweeping gesture of his bridle-rein, to the right and to the left, he gave salute for salute to the waiting grandees, as he passed along. Up the aisle, decorated with innumerable Castilian roses intertwined with ivy, came Carmelita, on her father's arm, orange blossoms clustered in her hand, her bridesmaids well in the lead. The organ swelled in notes of rejoicing. Directly before the señorita went two little girls, clad in white, backing slowly altarward, as she advanced. Freshly gathered rose-petals, handful by handful, they showered before her, making a pathway sweetly yielding as she trod. Captain Morando, awaiting his bride, stood at the altar gate, in uniform, his poncho laid aside, his brother officers attending him. Bride and groom knelt within the sanctuary. Neophyte Indian acolytes swung censers. Incense hung in the air, tingling the nostrils with its Oriental perfume, while the many candles glowed through the maze like burnished spear-points. As the clergy solemnly intoned the nuptial service, the choir, a hundred strong, of Indian men and women touchingly gave back its responses. The melody of Pepita's voice flooded nave and chancel, love for her mistress the inspiration. An instant's pause. Every breath stilled. With hands upraised over bride and groom stood the officiating padre. "Whom, therefore, God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Down the aisle husband and wife led bridesmaid and groomsman, governor, council, and junta departmental. Muskets crashed, as they crossed the street; the multitude shouted congratulations; the hills above them lived in medley of reiterated acclaimings of good will.