omen over the hills in the late
afternoon. Rezanov gave them a long rope, although he knew they must
be germinating with a mutinous distaste of the Russian north; he kept
strict watch over them and would have given a deserter his due without
an instant's pause.

The estafette that had gone with Luis' letters to Monterey had taken
one from Rezanov as well, asking permission to pay a visit of ceremony
to the Governor. Five days later the plenipotentiary received a polite
welcome to California, and protest against another long journey; the
humble servant of the King of Spain would himself go to San Francisco
at once and offer the hospitality of California to the illustrious
representative of the Emperor of all the Russias.

Rezanov was not only annoyed at the Governor's evident determination
that he should see as little as possible of the insignificant military
equipment of California, but at the delay to his own plans for
exploration. He knew that Luis would dare take him upon no expedition
into the heart of the country without the consent of the Governor, and
he began to doubt this consent would be given. But he was determined
to see the bay, at least, and he no sooner read the diplomatic epistle
from Monterey than he decided to accomplish this part of his purpose
before the arrival of the Governor or Don Jose. He knew the material
he had to deal with at the moment, but nothing of that already, no
doubt, on its way to the north.

Early in the morning after the return of the courier he wrote an
informal note to Dona Ignacia, asking her to give him the honor of
entertaining her for a day on the Juno, and to bring all the young
people she would. As the weather was so fine, he hoped to see them in
time for chocolate at nine o'clock. He knew that Luis, who was
pressingly included in the invitation, had left at daybreak for his
father's rancho, some thirty miles to the south.

There was a flutter at the Presidio when the invitation of the
Chamberlain was made known. The compliment was not unexpected, but
there had been a lively speculation as to what form the Russian's
return of hospitality would take. Concha, whose tides had thundered
and ebbed many times since the night of her party, submerging the happy
inconsequence of her sixteen years, but leaving her unshaken spirit
with wide clarified vision, felt young to-day from sheer reaction. She
would listen to no protest from her prudent mother and smothered her
w