unday in a buggy, and took her driving like a white lady,
to Vailele or Vaitele or Utumapu; Carl of the ringing laugh, and jolly,
smiling face, and tattooed girl-fish on his arm, who could sing, and do
tricks with cards, and invent the funniest forfeits when they all played
games, and yet, who at leave-time never failed to say with seriousness:
"Oh, my pigeon, am I to love uselessly forever?"

Again and again was Evanitalina drawn to take Viliamu, and then to take
Captain Carl, for Samuelu was always urging that a final decision be
come to, knowing the folly of maids, and the lack and fewness of worthy
men for husbands. But as she was on the brink, like a diver pausing
before the plunge, her eyes would alight on O'olo, smolderingly
regarding her from afar, and then her whole strength would turn to
water, and not for anything would she have married Carl, though all
Savalalo belonged to him, and all the ships of the sea; nor likewise
would she have married Viliamu, even had he owned the explosion-water
manufactory and been himself a Member of Parliament, for of her heart
there was but one master, and that was the Tongan.

But, alas, there was no coming together, for O'olo in his despair had
put himself beyond all intercourse with those of honor, becoming a
terror and a scourge, and inhabiting the jail more frequently than
Siosi's roof-tree; and nightly, when he was free, he caroused with low
companions, drinking gin, and cooking stolen pigs, and eating stolen
taro, and saying in his infamy: "Why should I work for thirty-five cents
a day when all the Tuamasanga is mine?"

Yet the rich food had no flavor in his mouth, and though the gin
maddened his spirit, it could not drown his wretchedness, for deep
within him, like a maggot in a bread-fruit, was the torment of love.
Sometimes in prison he would lower his head like a cow, and run at the
wall, exclaiming: "I will die, I will die!" And then he would fall, with
his beautiful hair all matted with blood, and his beautiful body next to
lifeless, though with his purpose unattained, owing to the thickness of
his skull. Surely no person in hell was ever more unhappy than O'olo,
and it is with grief one tells of him, for he was like a child, who, on
being refused a mango throws away his banana in wilfulness--and with
him, his banana was right conduct, and the respect of others, and the
laws of God, leaving him nothing save an aching spirit.

Then the war came, with the Tuamasan