OF THE SOUTH SEAS 57 



French official, was the purest democracy of manners 

 in the world, a philosophy the whites had learned from 

 the natives, who think all foreigners equally distin- 

 guished. 



Those not of the South Seas, and unused to the primi- 

 tive publicity of the natural functions there, suffered 

 intensely at first from embarrassment, but in time for- 

 got their squeamishness, and perhaps learned to carry 

 on conversations with those who drank or chatted out- 

 side. 



The Tahitian cook slept all day between meals on a 

 chair, with his head hanging out a window. He was 

 ill often from a rush of blood to his head. Lovaina 

 had offered him a mat to lie on the floor, but he pleaded 

 his habit. All the refuse of the kitchen was thrown 

 into the garden under this window, and with the horses, 

 chickens, dogs, and cats it was first come, first served. 



On the couch back of the table Lovaina sat for many 

 hours every day. Her great weight made her disin- 

 clined to walk, and from her cushions she ruled her do- 

 main, chaffing with those who dropped in for drinks, 

 advising and joking, making cakes and salads, bargain- 

 ing with the butcher and vegetable-dealer, despatching 

 the food toward the tables, feeding many dogs, posting 

 her accounts, receiving payments, and regulating the 

 complex affairs of her menage. She would shake a 

 cocktail, make a gin-fizz or a Doctor Funk, chop ice or 

 do any menial service, yet withal was your entertainer 

 and your friend. She had the striking, yet almost in- 

 explicable, dignity of the Maori — the facing of life 

 serenely and without reserve or fear for the morrow. 



Underneath the table dogs tumbled, or raced about 



