The soft white fog that sometimes, even at this
season, came in from the sea, was rolling over the
hills between the Battery and the Presidio, wreath-
ing about the rocky heights and slopes. It broke
into domes and cupolas, spires and minarets. Great
waves rolled over the sand dunes and beat upon
the cliffs with the phantoms clinging to its sides.
Then the sun struggled with a thousand colors.
The sun conquered, the mist shimmered into sun-
light, and once more the hills were gray and bare.

Rezanov laughed, but his eyes glowed down upon
her. "I am not sure it was there," he said. "I
have an idea your imagination and touch acted as
a sort of enchanter's wand. The others evidently
saw nothing."

"The others saw only fog and shivered. But it
was there, senor! We have had a vision. A Rus-
sian city! Ay, yi!"

But Rezanov had forgotten the city. Her reboso
had fallen and a strand of her hair blew across his
face. His lips caught it and his eyes burned. They
rounded a headland and the world looked green
and young.

"Concha!" he whispered.

Her eyes flashed and melted, she lifted her chin;