Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-10-27
XIV.

| I'VE should all wear black for so mourn
| full an occa sion," said Rafaella Sal, spread
ing out her scarlet skirts.
| Father Abella is right. The occasion
| is sad enough without giving it tic air
of funeral
| Sad! Dios de mi alma. Will he re-
turn?"
Elena Castro shook her wise head. She
was nearly twenty, and four years of
| matrimony had made her skeptiCal of
mans capacity for romance. Two years
| are long. and he will see many girls, and
| become one again of a life that is always
more brilliant than our sun in May. His
| eyes will be dazzled, his mind distracted.
| full to the brim. To sit at table with the
| tsar, to talk with him alone in mis- cab
met to have for the asking audience of
the pope of Rome and the king OF Spain!
Ay vi! Ay vi! Perhaps he will be made
a prince when he returns to st. Peters
burg and all the beautiful princesscs will
want to marry him. Can he remember
this poor little California, and even our
lovely Concha? 1 doubt! Valgame Dios
doubt!'
"Concha has always been too fortunate"
said Rafaella, with touch of spite. for
years of waiting had tried her temper,
and the sun always freckled her nose.
The flower of California stood on the Lor-
ridor of the mission, and before the
church, awaiting her guest of honor and
his escort A mass was to be said in be-
hall VI lHe OepdIllUS quests, llc
| would sail with the turn of the afternoon
tide. Men and women were in their gay
est finery an exotic mass of color against
| the rough whitewashed walls, chattering
as vivaciously as if the burden of their
conversation were not regret Tor The
chamberlain and his gay young IIeuten-
ants. Concha alone wore no color, ner
frock was white, her mantilla black. She
stood somewhat apart, but although she
was pale she commanded her eyes to
| dwell absently on the shifting sand Tar
down the valley, her naughty Spanish
profile betraying nothing of the despair
| in her soul.
Yes, Concha has always been too tortu-
| nate" repeated Rafaella. why should
| she be chosen for such destiny-to go
| to the Russian court and wear a train ten
| yards long of red velvet embroidered
with gold white veil spangled with
gold, a head-dress foot high set so thick
with Jewels her head viii ache for week
| ever with white walls. horsechair furni-
ture, Baja California pearls and three silk
| dresses year,!
| in court dress as our Conchita," said Elena
! Loyalty. But / doubt If 1t is the dress and
the state she thinks of losing today. She
| will not talk even to me Of him Ay vi!
| she grows more reserved every day, our
| Concha!-except to say she will wed him
when he returns, and thar know, for did
not witness the betrothal? She only mocks
me when | beg her to tell me If she loves
|
| of our beautiful songs with ridiculous
words. But she does. She did not sleep
last night. Her room is next to mine. No,
| 1t is Of Rezanov she thinks, and always.
Those proud silent girls, who Jest when
others would weep and use many words
and must die without sympathy-they have
4 tragedy in their souls. ay vi! And you
think she is fortunate? True she is beauti-
| full she is La Favorlta, she receives many
boxes from Mexico, and she has won the
love Of this Russian. Butt have not
dared to remind her-I remembered, 1t only
| yesterday-she came into this world on the
| thirteenth of a month, and he into her life
but one day before the thirteenth of an
other-new style! True some might say
| that 1t was an escape, but IL he came on
| the twelfth, 1t was on the thirteenth she
began to love him-on the night Of the ball;
of that am sure"
Rafaella shuddered and crossed herself.
! Poor Concha! Perhaps in the end she will
| always stand apart like that. Truly she Is
| not as others. I have always said 1t.
/ Thanks be to Mary. It was Luis that wooed
me not the Rueadnu. for might have been