e before I
was married."

He became thoughtful, and asked me to accompany him to the soiree of
the Alliance Francaise, in the Palais cinema-hall. The Alliance was
for encouraging the study and use of the French language. A few decades
ago Admiral Serre, the governor, had forbidden the teaching of French
to girls in the country districts as hurtful to their moral weal. It
was feared that they would seek to air their learning in Papeete,
and, as said Admiral Serre, be corrupted. A new regime reckoned a
knowledge of French a requisite of patriotism.

At the Palais the scene was brilliant. Two large banana-trees were
apparently growing at the sides of the stage, and the pillars of the
roof were wreathed in palm-leaves. Scores of French flags draped the
walls. Pupils of the government schools occupied many seats, and their
families, friends, and officials the others. The galleries were filled
with native children. Marao, the former queen, and her daughters, the
Princesses Boots and Tekau, with a party of English acquaintances, were
in front, and the general audience consisted of French and every caste
of Tahitian, from half to a sixteenth. The men were in white evening
suits, and the women and girls in decollete gowns, white and colored.

It was eight o'clock when the governor entered on the arm of the
president of the Alliance, Dr. Cassiou. He was in a white drill
uniform, with deep cuffs of gold bullion, and a blazing row of
orders on his breast. The republique outdoes many monarchies in
decorating with these baubles its heroes of politics. The governor,
a wholesome-looking diplomat, was the image of the famous host of
the Old Poodle Dog restaurant in San Francisco, who himself would
have had a hundred ribbons in a just democracy.

The band of native musicians played "The Marseillaise," but nobody
stood. With all their embellishments, the French would not incommode
themselves at the whim of a baton-wielder, who in America had only to
wave his stick in "The Star-Spangled Banner," and any one who did not
humor his whim by getting on his feet was beaten by his neighbors,
who would not suffer without him.

With the governor were the inspecteurs colonials, the bearded
napkin-wearers of Lovaina's. They, too, had a line of gay ribbon
from nipple to nipple. These three and the boulevardier, the gay
secretary, sat upon the stage beside a stack of gilded red books. The
band played "La Croix d'Honneur," and the good Dr. Cassiou