Chapter IX: Señora Valentino Seeks to Interest Padre Osuna

The courtyard of Señor Mendoza's hacienda house was glorious in light. Patterns of Oriental network were reflected from lanterns clustered along the eaves, strung on improvised archways, or undulating from the lofty flagpole. Genial spring rejoiced everywhere, no less in rare exotic floating in miniature lakes than in the countless blooming flower species that were at home in this Eden-land. The soft air breathed content as it moved in low voice around giant palm and high-branching walnut. As the evening waxed the zephyr became a whisper, then sank to sleep on the fairy scene with a sigh as faint as the rustle of a leaf.

The courtyard gate lay open wide. Many of the fairest and of the bravest in California were to pass within after the day had ceased, to fare forth against the rebirth of another sun. Mendoza's welcome to the late-coming rains took the form of pleasure-making for the gentry of the countryside. Neither thought, nor labor, nor expense had been spared that this might be a festal night long remembered in Alta California.

The lord of the manor sat in his private library.

"A visitor, Señor Mendoza," announced a peon.

"It is who?"

"The Padre Lusciano Osuna."

"Show him here. No--wait. I'll attend him from the front myself."

A moment later the señor was at the padre's side. "Welcome, reverend sir. This house is happy that your feet press its threshold." Mendoza bowed in Castilian grace, then extended his hand to the priest, who accepted it in courteous grasp.

"And you are well, Padre?"

"Good health blesses me, Señor Mendoza. How makes it with you?"

"Well. Very well, indeed. Come with me, Señor Padre."

"I thank you."

"Padre Osuna," as they sat together shortly after, "it pleases me that opportunity comes to thank you for sending your major-domo, Juan Antonio, that night the storm broke, to trace my daughter and her dueña. I have sought you each day since, only to find you were still in Santa Cruz. A father's heart thanks you, sir."

"A pastor's solicitude for one of his flock deserves not thanks, Señor Mendoza."

"May I ask, reverend sir, why you brought so strong a fighting force to meet us that night? Juan Antonio told me it was your order, but held his counsel further."

"He knew nothing more. Early that afternoon there came a peon, fugitive from the renegade camp. After much hesitation, so greatly are Yoscolo and Stanislaus feared by the Indians, he told me he had seen the two leaders traveling, no men with them, in the direction of your merienda ground. I cautioned him to silence lest panic sweep over the Mission. Marshaling bowmen and carbineers, I mounted horse to come to your aid, should the miscreants gather force and give any trouble. Thus I rode to you in the thunderstorm, having dispatched couriers posthaste to the pueblo for further aid from the soldiery there."

"The pueblo soldiers were already scouring the Los Gatos hills near Santa Cruz for the ubiquitous Indian leaders," said Señor Mendoza, "word having come in from that region that an attack was imminent. A messenger from the pueblo met us in the foothills not long before you came. With him rode away Captain Morando, to join his men and their lieutenant, my fighting peons accompanying him. We rested our horses. A rapid count of carretas by lantern light discovered the absence of my daughter and the señora dueña. At that moment you came, reverend padre."

The priest bowed. "I greatly regret that a sudden recurrence of illness prevented me from going farther with you that night. I tarried home till Juan Antonio came through the driving rain with news of the lost ones' safety. Strength soon returning, I went on my way to Santa Clara and farther."

"You set out at midnight, in the howling storm?"

"Yes, Señor Mendoza. Duty called me."

"That is the reply of a soldier, Padre Osuna."

"I am a soldier of the cross, señor."

"Well said! Well said! good sir."

"Allow me to explain, señor, why I have thus come to you when you are about to open your festivities. Less than an hour ago I returned from my journey. A messenger from Monterey was at the Mission bearing written words from the representative of England there. The message stated that an English citizen disappeared two days ago in the capital city. He left the home of Colonel Barcelo that afternoon and no one has seen him since. Much anxiety is felt over his absence."

A peon appeared in the doorway. "Colonel Barcelo and lady, with Señora Valentino, await you, Señor Mendoza. The Colonel asks a moment's private interview."

"Excuse me for a short time, reverend padre?"

Before Mendoza could depart the Colonel came bustling in.

"Heard your voice, my friend, and couldn't stand on ceremony. Have you received the news? Most interesting it is. Well, the governor has resigned and I am made acting-governor of the province pending the new appointment. The former governor is still in Mexico City. Fussy old curmudgeon he is. Should have resigned years ago. What I want to know, Señor Mendoza, is, are you laying plans to capture the office? If you are not, I am sure of getting it, as sure of it as if it was in my pocket here," tapping his breast-pocket vigorously. "What say you, Mendoza?" slapping the señor's shoulder with heavy palm.

"I have pledged myself to remain administrator while the need lasts," replied Mendoza, glancing at the friar. "The need yet exists, and I cannot hold two offices."

"Splendid! Splendid!" exulted Barcelo. "I'll take my chances against the other aspirants, and you may be assured there will be enough of them."

The Padre Lusciano Osuna had arisen. The exuberant Colonel now noticed him for the first time.

"Reverend sir, my obeisance! Kindly do not repeat what I have said of my political hopes."

Osuna bowed and smiled. "As you wish, sir."

At that moment Señora Barcelo and his sister entered.

"My husband is irrepressible. He actually bubbles over like a mineral spring. He requests a private interview, then shouts his secrets from the housetops. Reverend padre, I'm delighted to see you well again. Delighted! How pleasant to meet you on such an occasion as this! Reverend Padre Osuna, my sister, Señora Valentino, very lately from Spain. She was with us the night you led those men to us in the rain. No time for introductions then, of course. Ugh! what an experience!"

The friar and Señora Valentino acknowledged the introduction.

"Yes, yes, Señor Padre," exclaimed Barcelo, "what rag-and-bobtail followed you that night! But it's the way with Indians. They run as children after anything that promises excitement. How like wet-dogs-on-horseback they looked. Poor Mendoza here quite lost his head when his daughter's carreta turned up missing. Lucky I was there. Why, just send your Indians back-trail in such a case and they can find anything."

The Colonel looked around in a self-satisfied way.

"Why, husband," said Señora Barcelo, "how you so talk! As I say, you are so irrepressible! It always seems you are nowhere but just in the front of everything."

"Quite the place for a soldier, señora, quite the place."

Here Mendoza interposed. "Señoras and señors, will you not be seated?"

"Certainly," replied Barcelo. "Certainly."

"Colonel Barcelo, may I ask you if anything has been heard of the Englishman who two days ago disappeared in Monterey City?" said Señor Mendoza.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the stentorian Colonel. "Why, ha! ha! ha! I should say something has been heard of the fellow. He walked into my house half an hour before I left with some cock-and-bull story of having been kidnaped. Kidnaped! Ha! ha! ha! Good!"

The Colonel arose and stood before the others. "Let me give you my theory of the affair," self-complacency shining on his rotund face.

"Husband, some other time. The guests are surely arriving and Señor Mendoza wishes to be occupied with them."

"Patience, good wife, patience. My dear, if you have a fault in the world it is that you talk too much. Now--let me see where was I when interrupted. O, yes! The Englishman's disappearance. The explanation is a simple one."

The Colonel looked meaningly at his auditors. "Just too much aguardiente--native brandy. It's most deceptive stuff for a new beginner. I once had the same experience in Paris with absinthe."

"Why, Crisostimo, you never told me! How dare you speak of such a thing?" Señora Barcelo bridling.

"It was nothing, Clarinda, nothing, my love. Merely something that might happen to anyone--anyone of investigating mind, I mean, of course. Well, this Englishman----"

"O, Crisostimo, when were you in Paris and drank so much absinthe? It's simply disgraceful how we poor women are deceived. I'm going home to my uncle in Spain."

"It was years ago, my love, years ago, long before I met you. I was a lieutenant then in the Spanish army. Well, we were speaking of the affair in Monterey. I say----"

"The less you say the better," from his wife, tartly.

"My dear, how can you fill the position of governor's wife if you possess such small pride!"

The words had magic effect. The señora mopped her eyes with a dainty lace kerchief, and in a moment was all smiles. Her husband almost swaggered with suppressed importance.

"This Englishman was simply drunk. Let me tell you the whole case," this time without interruption. "The man called on my sister-in-law, Señora Valentino, a very young woman, as you see."

Señora Valentino lowered her eyes in appropriate recognition for the remark.

"I mean she is inexperienced in the world's ways, has always been protected, led a sheltered life, and all that. Well, this man she met occasionally in London some time ago called on her at my house in Monterey. The fellow was simply drunk, and this poor lady, in her simplicity, could see nothing of it. Why, the house guardian met him at my front door, and he began talking nonsense about kings and so on. Think of this! to a stranger too!

"Well, the fellow gained entrance through my sister-in-law. Seems to have behaved while within. Soon came a crony, some old pot-fellow, on a mock errand, and away went the two to carouse again. Then, the Englishman was lost. A hue and cry was raised. The inefficient town police do nothing. Then I make it a military matter, and, behold! the lost one comes walking to my house with a ready story to tell. Thus, the kidnaping. Ha! ha! ha!"

Barcelo subsided into a chair and looked around for approving words.

"How penetrating you men of affairs are!" This from Señora Valentino.

"As the Englishman has made his appearance my anxiety concerning him is over," remarked the padre.

"Certainly! Certainly!" observed Barcelo. "No cause for alarm. The man was taken by drink and cooked up a story to suit the case."

"How clever the Colonel, my brother-in-law, is!" again from Señora Valentino.

"With his work as comandante and the added duties of acting-governor, I cannot see how he will have time to turn," said his wife, admiringly.

The friar laughed gently, Mendoza, more loudly.

"From the viewpoint of a simple mission-administrator I can appreciate what such double work must mean. I trust the Englishman will be more wary in the future against kidnapers, that you may not be further burdened from that quarter at least."

Barcelo winked knowingly. "Brandy overnight usually leaves headache in the morning. The man must be a seasoned drunkard, for when I saw him there was no sign of his debauch. Of course he has now learned the strength of our native product, and I hope will govern himself accordingly."

The serving peons with respectful insistence were knocking at the door. The guests were coming in numbers.

The Señora Mendoza came into the room, curtsied to the company, then said to her father, "Papacito, many seek thee."

"Yes, yes, my child."

"The child is right," said Barcelo. "Señor Mendoza, your place is with your arriving company. Come, señoras, let us forth to the grounds. It is known that I am here. Many will be looking for me." Then in a confidential aside to Mendoza: "Will you write a letter to the secretary of state in Mexico City setting forth my qualifications for the governorship? State what you know for and against," with an air of great frankness.

"I'll do as you ask, Colonel." Turning to the friar: "Now, Señor Padre, we will resume. The guests will be well attended without my ministrations for the present."

Padre Osuna placed a small package in his hand. "This is the Jesuit bark you brought me in my recent illness. I could not accept it from you as Administrator Mendoza, highly as I esteem the qualities of character which led you to bring it to me. From Señor Mendoza I should have greatly valued the favor."

The other bowed understandingly. "Still I cannot separate Señor Mendoza from Administrator Mendoza."

"Let it then be so. Adios, Señor Mendoza," and the friar stepped into the corridor.

Everywhere was the hum of voices and echoes of laughter. Bursts of music sounded from various parts of the house or grounds where musicians had been stationed.

Many salutations from the California gentry met the priest as he passed along. Just outside the outer gate a hand was laid softly on his arm.

"May I have a few words with Padre Osuna?"

It was the Señora Valentino. The light made splendid play on her gown and jewels. The woman was young and fair, as well as exquisitely clad, but all this seemed to be put away as she stood beside the dull-robed friar.

"Certainly, Señora Valentino. If you thus request, my time is at your disposal."

"Here is a bench near the gatekeeper's lodge. Will you sit here awhile, reverend father?"

The padre seated himself by the woman's side.

"Perhaps I should yet further introduce myself to you. My husband, the late Colonel Clodio Valentino, was cousin-german to your mother, daughter of Ambassador Altamira, of Castile."

The friar looked keenly at his companion. "I have not seen my mother in ten years. She spoke often of Clodio Valentino, colonel of the Royal Hussars, and of his wife. It would seem as if the lady must be much older than you, señora."

"I am the Colonel's second wife. We were married seven years ago."

"I see."

"Padre Osuna, you can be of wonderful service to the great kingdom of which you are a citizen. In so doing you fulfill a duty to your state and to this province of California."

"Kindly explain, señora."

"California is as a ripe apple ready to drop into a basket. It oscillates to and fro. Great Britain holds one basket; the United States of America, another. Russia, with a third basket, stands at a distance. Mexico is the tree which must lose the apple in any case. Reverend padre, you have the length and strength of arm so to shake the tree that the Great Britain basket catches the apple."

"Why should I do so, if I could?"

"The United States looks eagerly on this province. That colossal nation reaches now to the Gulf of Mexico on the south, and it seeks to make the Pacific Ocean its boundary on the west. A continent-wide dominion is its aim."

"Señora Valentino, I live secluded from the world, and do not wish to share in its politics."

"But politics can affect the welfare of your spiritual children. Call to mind the secularization of your missions by the Mexican government. That was a political act, yet it cut the nerve of your Order's religious enterprise in this part of the world. Is it not so?"

"I believe that it is. Yet our Order once built here a Christian community from wandering savages, and our heart has not lost zeal, nor our hand willingness."

"I rejoice with you in all that, reverend father, but it was done when the flag of considerate Spain waved here, and the work of the church was deemed paramount. That flag has departed forever. Why not, then, seek another protector for Missions and for province which will make void the inconsiderate work of Mexico, and which will not be second to Spain, in good endeavor?"

"Señora, when rumors of change float in the air I close the windows and doors of my soul to all, that I may give myself unstinted to the work among God's untutored children."

"Why not safeguard the temporal and spiritual rights of your Indians? Ah! padre, think of India over which England is suzerain. There the amplest freedom is not only allowed but guaranteed to each native cult; neither does anyone hear of sequestration of church property."

"It is the truth. English rule and justice walk with equal pace in India."

"England would not do less in California for our church." In her enthusiasm she leaned toward him, her brown eyes flashing. "Else comes the United States. Her armed ships patrol our coast, sounding, always sounding, for deep and shallow water, though the coastline of this province was charted long before the United States of America was born. Why hazard the contingencies of American government, when the weight of her little finger, did she so wish, could be heavier than was the whole hand of Mexico? I, as a child of the church, ask you this. From my present home in an official family in Monterey I can read the signs of the time. Padre Osuna, we must act, and quickly."

"Another has spoken to me somewhat of this."

"That other was Captain Farquharson? No?"

The padre did not reply.

"The Captain seeks to bring California from unsatisfactory Mexico to stable and safe England. Señor Padre, for the good of souls, the souls of the Indians you love, help him!"

The Franciscan sprang to his feet, his figure erect and his face radiant.

"But, Misericordia! what can I do!" sinking back into his seat.

"Ah, humble friar! You have the power of a Savonarola who threw the wicked, bloody city of Florence to her praying knees. Have I not heard you in the cathedral in Seville, and again in Barcelona? Did not the soldiers draw strong cordons at the great cathedral in Madrid when you spoke there, lest the surging crowd crush themselves at the entrance? Ah, mighty one! speak to the people of this province, tell them of England and of her benevolent sway. Lift your voice for your country's good. Instruct and persuade, as you alone can, priest of the golden tongue! Then, listen, and from your hearers will come cheers for the mistress of the seas and her kindly rule. If you are silent, your church and your state lose much because a man marvelously gifted failed in manifest duty."

"I hold the call of duty supreme."

"You used that as a text for one of your sermons in Seville."

"Why do you connect me with that preacher in the cathedrals?"

"Because you are the same man, though you now wear a beard and write but a portion of your former name."

"Señora Valentino, that I am here under my present name is approved by my conscience and by my superiors."

"I doubt not, good padre."

The priest looked fixedly at the flag gently waving high above their heads.

"Padre, the good of souls! The welfare of your Order! Your Indian wards!"

"I know--I know."

They arose.

He saluted and turned to go. Then he hesitated. "My will is that of my superior."

He walked away a few steps, paused, and stood facing her, with:

"'Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not.' My children of the wilderness cry unto me--unto me."

Making the sign of the cross, he continued slowly down the road.

The joy of triumph shone in the señora's smile.