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We had come to a pool which in symmetry and depth, in coolness and invitingness, outranked all before. I was very hot, the beads of perspiration like those in a steamroom. "We will rest here a few minutes, and you may bathe," said my lovely guide. "I have not been to Fautaua vaimato for several years, but I never forget the way.
Verdure covered everything below except where the river ran from the tarn and hurried to the lesser things of the town. The giant walls, as black as the interior of an old furnace, were festooned with magnificent tree ferns, the exquisite maidenhair, lianas, and golden-green mosses, all sparkling in the sun with the million drops of the vaimato.
I feel like apologizing for my civilization." She pressed my hand. "Taisez-vous!" she replied, smiling. "Aita peapea. I am always happy. Remember I still live in Tahiti, and this is my time. My foremothers' day is past. Allons! We will be soon at the vaimato, and there we will have the déjeuner."
He was burdened with more than a hundred pounds of fruit, which he carried balanced on a pole over his shoulder, and with this he was to go seven or eight miles from their place of growth. He was a pillar of strength, handsome, glowing with effort, clad in a gorgeous pareu of red, and as we went by him, he smiled and said, "Ia ora na! I hea! Vaimato?" Greeting! Where have you been? The waterfall?"
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