XII
The eastern mountains looked very close from the crest of La Bellissimaand of a singular transparency and variety of hue. It was as if thewhite masses of cloud sailing low overhead flung down great splashes ofcolor from prismatic stores stolen from the sun. There was a vividpale green on the long sweep of a rounding slope, deep violet and palepurple in dimple and hollow, red showing through green on a tongue ofland running down from the north; and on the lower ridges and littleislands, pale and dark blue, and the most exquisite fields of lavender.This last tint was reflected in the water immediately below the ridge,and farther out there were lakelets of pale green, as if the islands,too, had the power to mirror themselves when the sea itself was glass.
Santiago, Davidov, Carolina Xime'no, Delfina Rivera, Concha andRezanov, had climbed to the ridge. The other young people had given outhalfway up the steep and tangled ascent and returned to the beach.Dona Ignacia immediately after dinner had frankly asked her host forthe hospitality of his stateroom. She and her little ones must havetheir siesta, and the good lady was convinced that so high and mighty apersonage as the Russian Chamberlain was all the chaperon theproprieties demanded.
Four of the party strayed along the crest in search of the first wildpansies. Rezanov and Concha looked under the sloping roof of brittleleaves into dim falling vistas, arches, arbors, caverns, a forest inminiature with natural terraces breaking the precipitous wall of theisland.
"I should like to live here," said Concha definitely.
"It would make a fine estate for summer life--or for a honeymoon." Hesmiled down upon his companion, who stood very tall and straight andproud beside him. "If you conclude to marry your little Bostonian nodoubt he will buy it for you," he said.
If he had hoped to see a look of blank dismay after his hours ofdevotion he was disappointed. She made a little face.
"I do not think I could stand a desert island with the good Weeliam.For that I should prefer one of my own sort--Ignacio, or Fernando.Better still, I could come here and be a hermit."
"A hermit?"
"In some ways that would suit me very well. All human beings becometiresome, I find. I shall have a little hut just below the crest whereI can look from my window right into the woods that are so quiet andgreen and beautiful. That is a thought that has always fascinated me.And when I walk on the crest I can see all the beauty of mountain andbay. What more could I want? What more have you in your world whenyou know it too well, senor?"
"Nothing; but you might tire, too, of this."
"What of it? It would be the gentle sad ennui of peace, not ofdisillusion, senor. How I wish you would tell me all you know of life!"
"God forbid. And do not remind me of ennui and disillusions. I haveforgotten both in California. Perhaps, after all, I shall not return toSt. Petersburg. There is a vast empire here--"
"But it is not yours or Russia's to rule, Excellency," she interruptedhim softly.
He did not color nor start, but met her eyes with his deep amusedglance. "I, too, can dream, senorita. Of a great and wonderfulkingdom--that never will exist, perhaps. I have always been called adreamer, but the habit has grown since I came to this lovely unrealland of yours."
"Have you the intention to take it from us, Excellency?" she askedquietly.
"Would you betray me if you thought I had?"
Her eyes responded for a moment to the magnetism of his, and then shedrew herself up.
"No, senor, I could not betray a man who had been our guest, and Spainneeds no assistance from a weak girl to hold her own against Russia."
"Well said! I kiss your hands, as they say in Vienna. But we mustsail again. I told them to be ready at three o'clock."
Dalliance with the most alluring girl he had ever known was all verywell, but the day's work was not yet done. When they returned to theship he deliberately engaged all the Spaniards in a game of cards,ordered cigarettes and a bowl of punch for their refreshment, and thenthe Juno steered south.
They sailed swiftly past Nuestra Senorita de los Angeles and theeastern side of Alcatraz, Rezanov sweeping every inch with his glass;more slowly past the peninsula where it came down in a succession ofrough hills almost in a straight line from the Presidio, ascending to ahigh outpost of solid rock, whence it turned abruptly to the south in awaving line of steep irregular cliffs, harsh, barren, intersected withgullies. Then the land became suddenly as flat as the sea, save forthe shifting dunes: the desert porch of the great fertile valley hiddenfrom the water by the waves of sand, but indicated by its rampart ofmountains. The shallow water curved abruptly inward between the rockymass on the right and a gentler incline and point two miles below. Atits head was the "Battery of Yerba Buena," facing the island from whichit took its name. Rezanov scrupulously kept his word and did not raisehis glass, but one contemptuous glance satisfied his curiosity. Hiseye rolled over the steep hills that were designed to bristle withforts, and, as sometimes happened, when he spoke again to Concha, whomhe kept close to his side, for the other girls bored him, his words didnot express the workings of his mind.
"Athens has no finer site than this," he said. "I should like to see awhite marble city on these hills, and on that plain, when all the sanddunes are leveled. Not in our time, perhaps! But, as I told you, Ihave surrendered myself to the habit of dreaming."
Concha shrugged her shoulders and made no reply at the moment. As theysailed toward the east before turning south again, she pointed acrossthe great silvery sheet of water melting into the misty southernhorizon, to a high ridge of mountains that looked to be a continuationof the San Bruno range behind the Mission, but slanting farther westwith the coast line.
"Those are behind our rancho, senor--Rancho El Pilar, or Las Pulgas, assome prefer. Perhaps my father will take you there. I hope so, for welove to go, and may not too often; my father is very busy here. He isone of the few that has received a large grant of land, and it isbecause the clergy love him so much they oppose his wish in nothing.Do you see those sharp points against the sky? They are the tops oflofty trees, like the masts of giant ships, and with many rigid armsspiked like the pines. You saw a few of them in the hollow belowTamalpais, but up on those mountains there are miles and miles ofmighty forests. No white man has ever penetrated them, nor ever will,perhaps. We have no use for them, and even if you made this yourkingdom, senor, I suppose not many would come with you. Far, far downwhere the water stops are the Mission of Santa Clara and the pueblo ofSan Jose; but I have heard you cannot approach within many miles of theland in a boat."
When they had sailed south for a few moments the boat came aboutsharply. Concha laughed. "I had forgotten the chart. I rather hopedyou would run on a shoal."
But as they approached the cove of Yerba Buena again she caught his armsuddenly, unconscious of the act, and the little dancing lights ofhumor in her eyes went out. "Your white city, senor! Ay, Dios! what acity of dreams that can never come true!"
The soft white fog that sometimes, even at this season, came in fromthe sea, was rolling over the hills between the Battery and thePresidio, wreathing about the rocky heights and slopes. It broke intodomes and cupolas, spires and minarets. Great waves rolled over thesand dunes and beat upon the cliffs with the phantoms clinging to itssides. Then the sun struggled with a thousand colors. The sunconquered, the mist shimmered into sunlight, and once more the hillswere gray and bare.
Rezanov laughed, but his eyes glowed down upon her. "I am not sure itwas there," he said. "I have an idea your imagination and touch actedas a sort of enchanter's wand. The others evidently saw nothing."
"The others saw only fog and shivered. But it was there, senor! Wehave had a vision. A Russian city! Ay, yi!"
But Rezanov had forgotten the city. Her reboso had fallen and a strandof her hair blew across his face. His lips caught it and his eyesburned. They rounded a headland and the world looked green and young.
"Concha!" he whispered.
Her eyes flas
hed and melted, she lifted her chin; then burst into amerry ripple of laughter.
"Senor!" she said, "if you make love to me, I shall have to compare youwith many others, and I might not like the Russian fashion. You aremuch better as you are--very grand seigneur, iron-handed and absolute,haughty and arrogant, but the most charming person in the world, withends to gain, even from such humble folk as a handful of strandedCalifornians. But to sigh! to languish with the eye! to sing at thegrating! I fear that the lightest headed of the caballeros you despisecould transcend you in all."
"Very likely! I have not the least intention of sighing or languishingor singing at gratings. But if we were alone I certainly should kissyou."
But her eyes did not melt again at the vision. She flushed hotly withannoyance. "I am a child to you! Were it not that I have read a fewbooks, you would find me but a year older than Ana Paula. Well!Regard me as a child and do not attempt to flirt with me again. Shallit be so?"
"As you wish!" Rezanov looked at her half in resentment, halfwistfully, then shrugged his shoulders, and called to Davidov to steerfor the anchorage. She was quite right; and on the whole he wasgrateful to her.