804 MYSTIC ISLES 



fuel, fiber for lines and dresses and hats, leaves for 

 canoe-sails and the shell of the nut for his goblet. Its 

 roots he fashions into household utensils. The cocoa 

 grows where other edibles perish. It dips its bole in 

 the salt tide, and will not thrive removed from its be- 

 loved sea. 



To me there is an inexpressible sentiment in the pres- 

 ence of these cocoa-palms. They are the symbol of the 

 simplicity and singleness of the eternal summer of the 

 tropics; the staff and gonfalons of the dominion of the 

 sun. My heart leaps at their sight when long away. 

 They are the dearest result of seed and earth. I drink 

 their wine and esteem dwelling in their sight a rare com- 

 munion with the best of nature. 



They joked Count Polonsky about his girl, and he 

 began to explain. 



'T was here a year before I found one that suited me," 

 he said as he rode beside the wagon. "I don't love her, 

 nor she me, but I pay her well, and ask only physical 

 fidelity for my physical safety. Her father is prac- 

 tical and influential, and will help me with my plans for 

 development of the Papenoo valley, which I have 

 bought." 



Three tall and robust natives in parens of red and yel- 

 low, and carrying long spears, went by, accompanied by 

 a dozen dogs. We stopped them, and they said they 

 were from the Papara district on their way to hunt pig 

 in the Papenoo Mountains for Count Polonsky. The 

 latter remembered he had ordered such a hunt, and ex- 

 plained through Llewellyn that he was their employer. 



They faced him, and seldom was gi-eater contrast. 



