328 MYSTIC ISLES 



his canvases, and in front of the house he had a number 

 of sculptures in wood. That was about 1895, I think. 

 I can see the maitre now. He wore a pareu of red mus- 

 hn and an undershirt of netting. He said that he 

 adored this corner of the world and would never leave it. 

 He had returned from Paris more than ever convinced 

 that he was not fitted to live in Europe. Yet, 7non ami, 

 he ran away from here, and went to the savage Mar- 

 quesas Islands, where he died in a few years. He loved 

 the third etude of Chopin, and the andante of Bee- 

 thoven's twenty-third sonata. You know music says 

 things we would be almost afraid to put in words, if we 

 could. If Flaubert might have written 'Madame 

 Bovary' or 'Salambo' in musical notes, he would not 

 have been prosecuted by the censor. We musicians 

 have that advantage." 



"In America," I replied, "we have never yet censored 

 musical compositions, and many works are played freely 

 because the censors and the reform societies' detectives 

 cannot understand them. But if our inquisitors take up 

 music, they may yet reach them. For instance, the pre- 

 lude of 'Tristan and Isolde,' and Strauss' 'Salome.' " 



"No," returned the Frenchman, .quickly; "music 

 would make them liberals." 



A little farther on, in the valley of Punaruu, the ami- 

 able violinist and pianist showed me the ruins of defense 

 works thrown up by the French to withstand the attacks 

 of the great chieftain, Oropaa of Punaauia, who with 

 his warriors had here disputed foot by foot the advance 

 of the invaders. These Tahitians were without artillery, 

 mostly without guns of any sort, but they utilized the 

 old strategy of the intertribal wars, and rolled huge 



