not. Then Liliokani wept and unbraided her
hair and cried as a widow crieth, and she thought that Mimi had found
another pleasanter than she unto him. So, upon the next night, she
latched the door. But in the middle of the night, when the fire was
kindled in the island moon, there was a gentle tapping at the door, and
Mimi called to her. And when she had unlatched the door she began to
chide him, but he stopped her chiding, and with great groaning he took
her to his breast, and she knew by the beating of his heart that evil
had come upon him.

Then Mimi told her who he was and how wroth the all-god was because the
eel-king, forgetful of his immortality and neglectful of his domain,
loved the daughter of a mortal.

"Forswear me, then," quoth Liliokani, "forswear me, and come not hither
again, and the anger of the all-god shall be appeased."

"It is not to lie to Atua," answered Mimi. "The all-god readeth every
heart and knoweth every thought. How can I, that love thee only,
forswear thee? More just and terrible would be Atua's wrath for that
lie to him and that wrong to thee and to myself. Brown maiden, I go
back into the sea and from thee forever, bearing with me a love for
thee which even the all-god's anger cannot chill."

So he kissed her for the last time and bade her a last farewell, and
then he went from that door down to the water's edge and into his
domain. And Liliokani made great moan and her heart was like to break.
But the sea was placid as a hearthstone and the palms lay asleep in the
sky that night, for it was Atua's will that the woman should suffer
alone.

In the middle of the next night a mighty tempest arose. The clouds
reached down and buffeted the earth and sea, and the winds and the
waters cried out in anger against each other and smote each other.
Above the tumult Atua's voice was heard. "Arise, Liliokani," quoth
that voice, "and with thy father's stone hatchet smite off the head of
the fish that lieth upon the threshold of the door."

Then Liliokani arose with fear and trembling and went to the door, and
there, on the threshold, lay a monster eel whose body had been floated
thither by the flood and the tempest. With her father's stone hatchet
she smote off the eel's head, and the head fell into the hut, but the
long, dead body floated back with the flood into the sea and was seen
no more. Then the tempest abated, and with the morning came the sun's
light and its tender warmth.