To this bay, on the 8th of April, 1806[11], in the absence of her stern old father in Monterey, and while the Presidio was under the temporary command of her brother Luis, there came from the north the “Juno,” the vessel of the Russian Chamberlain Rezanov, his secret mission an intrigue of some kind concerning this wonderland, for the benefit of the great Czar at St. Petersburg.  He found no difficulty in coming ashore.  Father was away.  Brother was kind.  Besides, the Russian marines looked good, and the officers knew how to dance as only military men know how to dance.  The hospitality was Castilian, unaffected, intimate, and at the evenings’ dances in this old building their barrego was more graceful than any inartistic tango, and in the teaching of the waltz by the Russians — there was no “hesitation.”

Then came Love’s miracle; and by the time the comandante returned to his post, ten days later, the glances of the bright-flashing eyes of the daughter had more effectively pulverized the original scheme of the chamberlain, than any old guns of her father on this fort could have done.  Their troth was plighted, and, as he belonged to the Greek Church, with a lover’s abandon, he started home to St. Petersburg, the tremendous journey of that day by way of Russian America and across the plains of Siberia, to obtain his Emperor’s consent to his marriage.  No knight of chivalry ever pledged more determined devotion.  He assured even the Governor that, immediately upon his return to St. Petersburg, he would go to Madrid as ambassador extraordinary from the Czar, to obviate every kind of misunderstanding between the powers.  From there he would proceed to Vera Cruz, or some other Spanish harbor in Mexico, and then return to San Francisco, to claim his bride.

On the 21st of May, about four o’clock in the afternoon, the “Juno” weighed anchor for Sitka, and in passing the fort, then called the fort of San Joaquin, she saluted it with seven guns — and received in return a salute of nine.  The old chronicler who accompanied the expedition says that the Governor, with the whole Arguello family, and several other friends and acquaintances, collected at the fort and waived an adieu with hats and handkerchiefs[12].  And one loyal soul stood looking seaward, till a vessel’s hull sank below the horizon.

How many fair women, through the pitiless years, have thus stood — looking seaward!  Once more the envious Fates prevailed.  Unknown to his sweetheart, Rezanov died on the overland journey from Okhotsk to St. Petersburg, in a little town in the snows of central Siberia.  With a woman’s instinctive and unyielding faith, the beautiful girl waited and watched for his return, waited the long and dreary years till the roses of youth faded from her cheeks.  True heart, no other voice could reach her ear!  Dead to all allurement, she first joined a secular order, “dedicating her life to the instructions of the young and the consolation of the sick,” and