of his strong face elongated and relaxed. It was
the hour of siesta, and they were alone in the sala.

"Mother of God!" he exclaimed. "Mother of
God! Are you mad, Excellency?"

"No man was ever saner," said Rezanov cheer-
fully. "What better proof would you have than
this final testimony to Dona Concha's perfections?"

"But it cannot be! Surely, Excellency, you
realize that? The priests! Ay yi! Ay yi!"

"I think I understand the priests. Persuade the
Governor to buy my cargo and they will look upon
me as an amicus humani generis to whom common
rules do not apply. And I have won their sincere
friendship."

"You have won mine, senor. But, though I say
it, there is no more devout Catholic in the Cali-
fornias 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 daugh-
ter 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