motus was
there, gaily bantering half a dozen girls for whom he bought drinks. We
joined him with Miri and Caroline and Maraa and others, the best-known
sirens of Papeete. They were handsome, though savage-looking, and
they had lost their soft voices. Alcohol and a thousand upaupahuras
had made them shrill. They smoked endless cigarettes. Some wore shoes
and stockings, and some were barefooted. Their dresses were red or
blue, with insertions of lace and ribbons, and they were crowned with
flowers in token of their mood of gaiety.

David insisted on a bowl of velvet, three quarts of champagne, and
three of English porter mixed in a great urn. The champagne bubbled in
the heavier porter, and the brew was a dark, brilliant color, soft and
smooth. It was delicious, and seemed as safe as cocoanut milk. I drank
my share of it in the cinema cafe, and after that was conscious only
vaguely of going to the Cocoanut House garden, where Miri and Caroline
and Maraa danced nude under the trees by the light of the full moon.

Then came blankness until I awoke several hours after midnight. I
was sitting on the curbing of the Pool of Psyche, and some one was
holding my hand. I thought it must be Atupu or Lovaina, and groped
for a moment before I could pull my senses together. I looked up,
and saw a wreathed and bearded native, and then down and saw his
attire, mixed man's and woman's, and knew he was one of the mahus
who loafed about the queen's grounds. I drew away my hand as from a
serpent's jaws, and clasped my head, which rocked in anguish. A horrid
chuckle or dismal throaty sound caused me to see the Dummy standing
in the gateway, looking contemptuously at me, and witheringly at my
companion. I had a second's thought of myself as a son of Laocooen.

The mahu got up and hastened away, and Vava put his hand on my shoulder
and lifted me as a child to the road. He pointed toward the Annexe,
and as I went haltingly with him, he now and again uttered unearthly
cackles and bawls as if enjoying a farce I could not see. He, like the
mahu, was one of those mishaps of nature assigned to play an absurd
and sorry part in the tragicomedy of life in which all must act the
roles assigned by the great author-manager until death puts us out
of the cast. In that scene I myself was the buffoon of fate.

Chapter XVI

A journey to Mataiea--I abandon city life--Interesting sights on the
route--The Grotto of Maraa--Papara and the Chief Tati--The