my back, "that Argentina is good country! Forty dollars lime squash
by himself." She opened her purse, and poured out more gold. With it
fell a cloth medallion, red letters on white flannel, "The Apostleship
of Prayer in League with the Sacred Heart of Jesus."

"I find that on the floor two day' 'go," said Lovaina, "and I put it
in purse to see if good luck. What you think? Argentinas come in nex'
day. I don' know, but that thing is good to me. See those bottle'
champagne goin' in?"

Perhaps I shall carry longer than any other memory of Tahiti that
of the endearing nature, the honest heart, and the laughing, starry
eyes of Lovaina, with a tiarè-blossom over her ear, or a chaplet
of those flowers upon her head, as she sat on her throne behind the
serving-table, and I on the camphor-wood chest.



Chapter V

The Parc de Bougainville--Ivan Stroganoff--He tells me the history
of Tahiti--He berates the Tahitians--Wants me to start a newspaper.

In the parc de Bougainville I sat down on a bench on which was an
old European. He was reading a tattered number of "Simplicissimus,"
and held the paper close to his watery eyes. I said, "Good morning"
and he replied in fluent though accented English.

His appearance was eccentric. He was stout, and with a rough, white
beard all over his face and neck, and even on his chest. He wore a