When they reached a point where the sloping rocks rose high above surf and spray, they dismounted, leaving the Indian servants to tether the horses. They climbed down the big smooth rocks and sat about in groups, although never beyond the range of older eyes, the cypresses lowering above them, the ocean tearing through the outer rocks to swirl and grumble in the pools. The moon was so bright, its light so broad and silver, they almost could imagine they saw the gorgeous mass of colour in the pools below. "You no have seaweed like that in Boston," said Benicia, who had a comprehensive way of symbolizing the world by the city from which she got many of her clothes and all of her books. "Indeed, no!" said Russell. "The other day I sat for hours watching those great bunches and strands that look like richly coloured chenille. And there were stones that looked like big opals studded with vivid jewels. God of my soul, as you say, it was magnificent! I never saw such brilliant colour, such delicate tints! And those great rugged defiant rocks out there, lashed by the waves! Look at that one; misty with spray one minute, bare and black the next! They look like an old castle which has been battered down with cannon. Captain, do you not feel romantic?" "I feel that I never want to go into an art gallery again. No wonder the women of California are original." "Benicia," said Russell, "I have tried in vain to learn a Spanish song. But teach me a Spanish phrase of endearment. All our 'darlings' and 'dearests' are too flat for California." "Bueno; I teach you. Say after me: Mi muy querida prima. That is very sweet. Say." "Mi muy--" "Querida prima." "Que--What is it in English?" "My--very--darling--first. It no sound so pretty in English." "It does very well. My--very--darling--first--if all these people were not about us, I should kiss you. You look exactly like a flower." "Si you did, Señor Impertinencio, you get that for thanks." Russell jumped to his feet with a shout, and shook from his neck a little crab with a back like green velvet and legs like carven garnet. "Did you put that crab on my neck, señorita?" "Si, señor." A sulky silence of ten minutes ensued, during which Benicia sent little stones skipping down into the silvered pools, and Russell, again recumbent, stared at the horizon. "Si you no can talk," she said finally, "I wish you go way and let Don Henry Tallant come talk to me. He look like he want." "No doubt he does; but he can stay where he is. Let me kiss your hand, Benicia, and I will forgive you." Benicia hit his mouth lightly with the back of her hand, but he captured it and kissed it several times. "Your mustache feels like the cat's," said she. He flung the hand from him, but laughed in a moment. "How sentimental you are! Making love to you is like dragging a cannon uphill! Will you not at least sing me a love-song? And please do not make faces in the tender parts."