would cook under
a wig in this climate, and I need all my wits--for more reasons than
one." And he went up on deck.

There, while awaiting his horses and escort, he had another glimpse of
the happy Arcadian life of the Californians. Over the sand hills
through which he had floundered twice that day rode young men in gala
attire, a maiden, her attire as brilliant as the sunset along the
western summits, on the saddle before them. These saddles were heavy
with silver, the blanket beneath was embroidered with both silver and
gold. Gay light laughter floated out on the cool evening breeze to the
little ship in the harbor.

"It has been a good day," thought Rezanov, lowering his glass. "It is
like her to arrange so charming a finale."

When he arrived at the Presidio the guitars were tinkling and the sala
was full of eager and somber faces. The Californians had come early,
determined to witness the arrival of the Russians. Very pretty most of
the girls were, and by no means a bevy of brunettes. There was hair of
every shade of brown, looped over the ears, drawn high and confined by
the high comb and the long pins; and Rafaella Sal, with her red hair
and gray eyes, was still celebrated as a beauty, although no longer in
her first youth--she was twenty-two, and should have been a matron and
mother long since! But she looked very handsome and coquettish in her
daring yellow frock that no other red head would have dared to wear,
and she displayed three ropes of Baja California pearls; one strand
being the common possession. The matrons, young and old, wore heavy
satins or brocades, either red or yellow, but the maids were in
flowered silks, sometimes with coquettish little jacket, generally with
long pointed bodice and full flowing skirt. Concha's frock was made in
this fashion, but quite different otherwise; an aunt in the City of
Mexico being mindful at whiles of the cravings of relatives in exile.
It was of a soft shimmering white stuff covered with gold spangles and
cut to reveal her young neck and arms. She stood at the head of the
room with her mother as Rezanov entered, and he noticed for the first
time how tall she was. She held herself proudly; mischievous twinkle,
nor child-like trust, nor flashing coquetry possessed her eyes; these,
even more star-like than usual, nevertheless looked upon her guests
with a dignified composure. Her lips, her skin, were luminous. In
this well-cut evening gown he saw th