OF THE SOUTH SEAS 239 



the mysterious voices of po, the tenehrce of the Tahitian 

 gods; the boom of the cascade in the abyss; the deep 

 bass of the river in the rocky chute ; the sigh of the wind 

 in the trees ; the murmur of the stream near by ; the fan- 

 tasia and dirge of the lofty night in the tropics. What 

 a setting for her telling some old legend or fairy-tale of 

 Tahiti! 



Fragrance of the Jasmine ended my reverie. She 

 slapped her thigh. 



"I dine and dance to-night at eight o'clock," she said. 

 "A rohi! We must go! Besides, Mai-u, it would be 

 too cold without blankets. The mercury here goes to 

 sixty of your thermometer." 



We descended by the route we had come, picking up 

 her shoes and stockings and our hats by our couch, and 

 with the princess leading, hurrying along the obscuring 

 trail. We passed a Tahitian youth who had been gath- 

 ering feis, probably near the tarn, and who was bringing 

 them to the market of the next morning. He was bur- 

 dened with more than a hundred pounds of fruit, which 

 he carried balanced on a pole over his shoulder, and with 

 this he was to go seven or eight miles from their place of 

 growth. He was a pillar of strength, handsome, glow- 

 ing with effort, clad in a gorgeous pareu of red, and as 

 we went by him, he smiled and said, ''la ora na! I heal 

 Vaimato?" Greeting! Where have you been? The 

 waterfall?" 



"E, hitahita. Yes, we are hurrying back," the prin- 

 cess called vivaciously. 



"Those are our real men, not the Papeete dolts," she 

 said. "If we had time, we would catch shrimp in the 

 river. I love to do that." 



