XIV

Governor Arrillaga, Commandante Arguello,
and Chamberlain Rezanov sat in the familiar sala
at the Presidio content in body after a culinary
achievement worthy of Padre Landaeta, but per-
turbed and alert of mind. Upon the arrival of the
two California dignitaries in the morning, Rezanov
had sent Davidov and Langsdorff on shore to assure
them of his gratitude and deep appreciation of the
hospitality shown himself, his officers and men. The
Governor had replied with a fulsome apology for
not repairing at once to the Juno to welcome his dis-
tinguished guest in person, and, pleading his age
and the one hundred and seventy-five English miles
he had ridden from Monterey, begged him as a
younger man to waive informality, and dine at the
house of the Commandante that very day. Rezanov
had complied as a matter of course, and now he was
alone with the men who held his fate in their hands.
The dark worn rugged face of Don Jose, who had
been skilfully prepared by his oldest daughter to
think well of the Russian, beamed with good-will
and interest, in spite of lingering doubts; but the
lank, wiry figure of the Governor, who was as digni-
fied as only a blond Spaniard can be, was fairly
rigid with the severe formality he reserved for occa-