one or rub noses, as do the Eskimo. Whites, however, have taught
kisses in all their variety.

The governor had the girl drink a glass of champagne. She was
perhaps sixteen years old, a charming girl, smiling, simple, and
lovely. Her skin, like that of all Marquesans, was olive, not brown
like the Hawaiians' or yellow like the Chinese, but like that of
whites grown dark in the sun. She had black, streaming hair, sloe
eyes, and an arch expression. Her manner was artlessly ingratiating,
and her sweetness of disposition was not marked by hauteur. When I
noticed that her arm was tattoed, she slipped off her dress and sat
naked to the waist to show all her adornment.

There was an inscription of three lines stretching from her shoulder
to her wrist, the letters nearly an inch in length, crowded together
in careless inartistry. The legend was as follows:

"TAHIAKEANA TEIKIMOEATIPANIE PAHAKA AVII
ANIPOENUIMATILAILI
TETUATONOEINUHAPALIILII"

These were the names given her at birth, and tattooed in her
childhood. She was called, she said, Tahiakeana, Weaver of Mats.

Seeing her success among us and noting the champagne, her companions
began to thrust forward on to the veranda to share her luck. This
angered the governor, who thought his dignity assailed. At Bauda's
order, the gendarme and Song of the Nightingale dismissed the
visitors, put McHenry to sleep under a tree, and escorted the new
executive and me to Bauda's home on the beach.