d her native
islands. As for Keawe himself, his horse flew up the path of the
mountain under the cliff of tombs, and the sound of the hoofs, and the
sound of Keawe singing to himself for pleasure, echoed in the caverns of
the dead. He came to the Bright House, and still he was singing. He sat
and ate in the broad balcony, and the Chinaman wondered at his master,
to hear how he sang between the mouthfuls. The sun went down into the
sea, and the night came; and Keawe walked the balconies by lamplight,
high on the mountains, and the voice of his singing startled men on
ships.

"Here am I now upon my high place," he said to himself. "Life may be no
better; this is the mountain top: and all shelves about me toward the
worse. For the first time I will light up the chambers, and bathe in my
fine bath with the hot water and the cold, and sleep alone in the bed of
my bridal chamber."

So the Chinaman had word, and he must rise from sleep and light the
furnaces; and as he wrought below, beside the boilers, he heard his
master singing and rejoicing above him in the lighted chambers. When the
water began to be hot the Chinaman cried to his master; and Keawe went
into the bathroom; and the Chinaman heard him sing as he filled the
marble basin; and heard him sing, and the singing broken, as he
undressed; until of a sudden the song ceased. The Chinaman listened, and
listened; he called up the house to Keawe to ask if all were well, and
Keawe answered him "Yes," and bade him go to bed; but there was no more
singing in the Bright House; and all night long the Chinaman heard his
master's feet go round and round the balconies without repose.

Now the truth of it was this: as Keawe undressed for his bath, he spied
upon his flesh a patch like a patch of lichen on a rock, and it was then
that he stopped singing. For he knew the likeness of that patch, and
knew that he was fallen in the Chinese Evil.[6]

Now, it is a sad thing for any man to fall into this sickness. And it
would be a sad thing for anyone to leave a house so beautiful and so
commodious, and depart from all his friends to the north coast of
Molokai between the mighty cliff and the sea-breakers. But what was that
to the case of the man Keawe, he who had met his love but yesterday, and
won her but that morning, and now saw all his hopes break, in a moment,
like a piece of glass?

A while he sat upon the edge of the bath; then sprang, with a cry, and
ran outside; and to and