Benicia sang another song, and a half-dozen caballeros stood about her, regarding her with glances languid, passionate, sentimental, reproachful, determined, hopeless. Russell, leaning back in his chair, listened to the innocent thrilling voice of the girl, and watched her adorers, amused and stimulated. The Californian beauty was like no other woman he had known, and the victory would be as signal as the capture of Monterey. "More blood, perhaps," he thought, "but a victory is a poor affair unless painted in red. It will do these seething caballeros good to learn that American blood is quite as swift as Californian." As the song finished, the musicians began a waltz; Russell took the guitar from Benicia's hand and laid it on the floor. "This waltz is mine, señorita," he said. "I no know--" "Señorita!" said Don Fernando Altimira, passionately, "the first waltz is always mine. Thou wilt not give it to the American?" "And the next is mine!" "And the next contradanza!" The girl's faithful retinue protested for their rights. Russell could not understand, but he translated their glances, and bent his lips to Benicia's ear. That ear was pink and her eyes were bright with roguish triumph. "I want this dance, dear señorita. I may go away any day. Orders may come to-morrow which will send me where I never can see you again. You can dance with these men every night of the year--" "I give to you," said Benicia, rising hurriedly. "We must be hospitable to the stranger who comes to-day and leaves to-morrow," she said in Spanish to the other men. "I have plenty more dances for you." After the dance, salads and cakes, claret and water, were brought to the women by Indian girls, who glided about the room with borrowed grace, their heads erect, the silver trays held well out. They wore bright red skirts and white smocks of fine embroidered linen, open at the throat, the sleeves very short. Their coarse hair hung in heavy braids; their bright little eyes twinkled in square faces scrubbed until they shone like copper. "Captain," said Russell to Brotherton, as the men followed the host into the supper room, "let us buy a ranch, marry two of these stunning girls, and lie round in hammocks whilst these Western houris bring us aguardiente and soda. What an improvement on Byron and Tom Moore! It is all so unhackneyed and unexpected. In spite of Dana and Robinson I expected mud huts and whooping savages. This is Arcadia, and the women are the most elegant in America." "Look here, Ned," said his captain, "you had better do less flirting and more thinking while you are in this odd country. Your talents will get rusty, but you can rub them up when you get home. Neither Californian men nor women are to be trifled with. This is the land of passion, not of drawing-room sentiment." "Perhaps I am more serious than you think. What is the matter?" He spoke to a brother officer who had joined them and was laughing immoderately.