names tattooed on her arm. They dipped in the font
and genuflected, then bowed in prayer.

Many familiar faces I recognized. Ah Yu, the Chinaman who owned the
little store beyond the banian-tree and had murder upon his soul;
Lam Kai Oo, my erstwhile landlord; Flag, the gendarme; Water, in all
the glory of European trousers; Kake, with my small namesake on her
arm. The old women were tattooed on the ears and neck in scrolls,
and their lips were marked in faint stripes. The old men, their eyes
ringed with tattooing, wore earrings and necklaces of whale's teeth.

The church was painted white inside, with frescoes and dados of
gaudy hues, and windows of brilliantly colored glass. The altar, as
also the statues of Joseph and Mary, had a reredos handsomely carved.
Outside the railing was a charming Child in the Manger, lying on
real straw, surrounded by the Virgin, Joseph, the Magi, the shepherds,
and the kings, all in bright-hued robes, and pleasant-looking cows
and asses with red eyes and green tails.

The singing began before the priest came from the sacristy. The men
sang alone and the women followed, in an alternating chant that at
times rose into a wail and again had the nasal sound of a bag-pipe.
The Catholic chants sung thus in Marquesan took on a wild, barbaric
rhythm that thrilled the blood and made the hair tingle on the scalp.

Bishop David le Cadre appeared in elegant vestments, his eyes grave
above a foot-long beard, and the mass began. The acolyte was very
agile in a short red cassock, below which his naked legs, and bare
feet showed. The people responded often through the mass, rising,
sitting down, and kneeling obediently. Baufre sat on a chair in the
vestibule and added accounts.

Ah Kee Au was the sole communicant at the rail. No cloth was spread,
but the bell announced the mystery of transubstantiation, and all
bowed their heads while Ah Kee Au reverently offered his communion to
the welfare of Napoleon, his grandson who had accidentally shot
himself.

The service over, the people poured from the church into the
brilliant sunshine of the road, and Ah Kee Au said to me, "You savee
thlat communio' blead b'long my place. My son makee for pliest." Lam
Kai Oo, pressing forward, offered the communicant a draught of fiery
rum he had obtained by the governor's permission. He had been told
that to give a glass of water to a communicant, who must of course
have fasted and abstained from any liquid since midni