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Updated: May 7, 2025
All wore solemn faces of a jury bringing in a death-verdict. Paiere nodded to a volunteer janitor, who insisted upon my occupying a chair he brought. Every one else was on the floor on mats, in two squares or separate divisions. Babies lay at their mothers' extended feet, and others ran about the room in silence.
"I used to fetch him oranges and mangoes, and climb for drinking nuts, of which Rui was fond," said Paiere. Paiere was a deacon or functionary of the Protestant church, as was Ori-a-Ori, and I went with the entire family to the Sunday evening service. For weeks preparations and rehearsals for a himene nui, a mammoth song service, had been agitating the village.
Paiere, the adopted son of Ori, who was a boy when the Casco was at Tautira, claimed a vivid remembrance of many incidents. He especially had been impressed by the numbers of corks that flew in the house and on the green; and when I invited him to a bottle of champagne, he made hissing sounds and a plop to indicate that Rui had a penchant for that kind of wine.
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