that phrase with which he
almost always concludes any account of his policy: "Mo' betta."

The palace compound is laid with broken coral, excruciating to the eyes
and the bare feet, but exquisitely raked and weeded. A score or more of
buildings lie in a sort of street along the palisade and scattered on
the margin of the terrace; dwelling-houses for the wives and the
attendants, storehouses for the king's curios and treasures, spacious
maniap's for feast or council, some on pillars of wood, some on piers of
masonry. One was still in hand, a new invention, the king's latest born:
a European frame-house built for coolness inside a lofty maniap': its
roof planked like a ship's deck to be a raised, shady, and yet private
promenade. It was here the king spent hours with Rubam; here I would
sometimes join them; the place had a most singular appearance; and I
must say I was greatly taken with the fancy, and joined with relish in
the counsels of the architects.

Suppose we had business with his majesty by day: we strolled over the
sand and by the dwarfish palms, exchanged a "_Konamaori_" with the
crone on duty, and entered the compound. The wide sheet of coral glared
before us deserted; all having stowed themselves in dark canvas from the
excess of room. I have gone to and fro in that labyrinth of a place,
seeking the king; and the only breathing creature I could find was when
I peered under the eaves of a maniap', and saw the brawny body of one of
the wives stretched on the floor, a naked Amazon plunged in noiseless
slumber. If it were still the hour of the "morning papers" the quest
would be more easy, the half-dozen obsequious, sly dogs squatting on the
ground outside a house, crammed as far as possible in its narrow shadow,
and turning to the king a row of leering faces. Tembinok' would be
within, the flaps of the cabin raised, the trade blowing through,
hearing their report. Like journalists nearer home, when the day's news
were scanty, these would make the more of it in words; and I have known
one to fill up a barren morning with an imaginary conversation of two
dogs. Sometimes the king deigns to laugh, sometimes to question or jest
with them, his voice sounding shrilly from the cabin. By his side he may
have the heir-apparent, Paul, his nephew and adopted son, six years old,
stark naked, and a model of young human beauty. And there will always be
the favourite and perhaps two other wives awake; four more lying supine
un