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Updated: May 22, 2025
Dive and double and follow after, Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call, With lips that fade, and human laughter And faces individual! Well this side of Paradise! ... There 's little comfort in the wise. I start for Tautira A dangerous adventure in a canoe I go by land to Tautira I meet Choti and the Greek God I take up my home where Stevenson lived.
I sank into dreams, with the slumbrous roar upon the coral barrier like the thunder of a sea god's rolling drum. My life at Tautira The way I cook my food Ancient Tahitian sports Swimming and fishing A night hunt for shrimp and eels. T'yonni and Choti were the only aliens except myself in all Tautira, nor did others come during my stay.
At eleven o'clock of the forenoon I, with Matatini and Raiere, a youth of twenty, strolled down the grassy street to the garden of Alfred, where Choti might be painting under the trees, and if a halloo did not bring him bounding to us, we went on to T'yonni's, where he would surely be, either under the mango trees or in the salon.
On Thursday Choti, T'yonni, and I accompanied Raiere to the place of the tii, where the preparations for the sorcery were beginning. We went through a continuous forest of many kinds of trees, a vast, climbing coppice, in which all the riches of the Tahitian earth were mingled with growths from abroad.
Ori-a-Ori, though busied in his official duties, and by nature a silent man, assumed of me a care, and in time gave me a friendship beyond my possible return to him. I sent to Papeete for a variety of edibles from the stores of the New-Zealand and German merchants, and spread a gay table, to which I often invited Choti and T'yonni, who were my hosts as frequently.
The steamships, spending only twenty-four hours in Papeete port every four or five weeks, sent no trippers, and the bureaucrats, traders, and sojourners in Papeete apparently were not aware of the enchantment at our end of the island. T'yonni had found Tautira only after four or five voyages to Tahiti, and Choti had first come as his guest.
General Murger was feeling distinctly bad as he sat on the edge of his bed and viewed with the eye of disfavour the choti hazri set forth for his delectation. "Little presence," early breakfast, petit déjeuner. As he intended to inspect the Volunteers in the early morning and return to a mid-day breakfast, the choti hazri was substantial, though served on a tray in his bedroom.
T'yonni had no art but that of living, while Choti had studied in Paris, and was bent on finding in these scenes something strong and uncommon in painting, as Gauguin, now dead, had found. They lived separately, T'yonni studying the language and the people, he had been a master at a boys' school in the East, and the artist painting many hours a day.
Tall, very spare, and his skin pale despite his wearing only a pareu and never a hat, Choti's black eyes shone under long, black hair, and over a Montmartre whisker that covered his boyish face from his chiseled nose. "Hello!" he said. "Come and have déjeuner?" The manner of both T'yonni and Choti, while hospitable, and their glances at my bags, showed a probable wonderment of my intentions.
The chief listened throughout the message with his eyes empty of us, conjuring a vision of the Rui who so far back had won his heart; and when Choti had concluded, Ori-a-Ori lifted his glass, and said, "Rui e Maru!" coupling me in his affection with the dim figure of his sweet guest of the late eighties. The last toast was to my return.
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