It is enough to say, that though nothing was said, both Ysidria and I knew that we loved, and we knew whom. When we reached Madre Moreno's house, she came out and invited me to supper; there was a smile, a disagreeable, malicious smile on her face as she spoke, and not caring to alloy the pleasure of my afternoon with Ysidria by enduring the Madre's company, I refused, and walked over to my house.
VI.
"Vengeance is mine and I will repay;" such was the text of Padre Arguello's discourse that hot October day, before his little congregation in Bolinas. The good father became as fervid as the day, and mopped his benevolent face many times before his panting audience was allowed to walk out in the open and catch a glimpse of the white ocean gleaming as a mass of melted silver till it met the dull, white horizon. A dozen fig trees before the door gave the only shade about the place excepting where the half ruined walls of the old church sheltered the Father's little garden. The congregation was soon dispersed, most of them riding to their homes in the foothills, while a few, who lived in the neighbourhood of the village, walked quietly down toward the sea, and the bright, cultivated gardens, which were kept green by the ever-flowing arroyo which here spread its rich alluvial deposits over the land in the winter time.
I had ridden over the night before with all my household, and as many from the neighbouring ranchos had joined us on the way, there was as large a cavalcade as the little village had seen since Viscaino's pilot, Francisco Bolanos, christened the spot in 1602.
It was Padre Arguello's farewell, as he was to sail for Acapulco in a few days, and the country people had come for many miles to do him honour. All had been much surprised when old Ambrosia Moreno entered the church and, with Ysidria, knelt through the service. Madre Moreno had not been to service or confession since her father's death, indeed I had heard her once make a blasphemous jest about the most holy Mass, and good Padre Andreas at San Anselmo, in whose flock she was the blackest sheep, gave her up as lost here and hereafter; so there was much surprise at the Madre's action. Catalina was simply indignant at this desecration, as she called it, and wondered that the beads had not burned her fingers.
The sermon was long and dull, but I did not mind these defects, or rather thought them virtues, for my mind was not interrupted in the contemplation of Ysidria.
I felt like laughing with delight all the day, and wore far from what is called now-a-days, a "Sunday face."
There was a bull and bear fight in the afternoon, but Ysidria and I preferred a walk on the bluffs; of course, Madre Moreno went with us, but she considerately, or by chance, kept by herself. Madre Moreno had allowed her niece and myself a freedom of intercourse not at all in keeping with Californian customs, but she took upon her the duties of dueña at Bolinas, so that the many visitors should find no chance for wonder or remark. Catalina and the others of my household, went to the fight.
There were not many at vespers, and Madre Moreno and Ysidria had started early for home with the Danas, so I had to myself the pleasure of kneeling in the spot where Ysidria had worshipped in the forenoon.