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Updated: June 8, 2025
Juillet, whose native name was Tiurai, helped old Madame Rose to care for the rooms at the Tiare. She was thirteen years old, willowy, with a beautiful, smiling face, and two long, black plaits. Though innocent, almost artless, in appearance, she was an arch coquette, and flirted with old and young.
Down the narrow path she went ponderously, showing me the cannas, jasmine and rose, picking a lime or a tamarind, a bouquet of mock-orange flowers, smoothing the tuberoses, the hibiscus of many colors, the oleanders, maile ilima, Star of Bethlehem, frangipani, and, her greatest love, the tiare Tahiti.
They passed away as the tiaré Tahiti withers indoors. The censored returned to the rich earth which had bred them, and taught them its secrets and demands. Only a mournful remnant remains to observe the censorship. But the curious spirit of inversion which tries to make the assumed infinite of a finite nature, which had sacrificed a race to an invented god, persists even in the South Seas.
The drawing-room at the Hotel de la Fleur was a small room, with a cottage piano, and a suite of mahogany furniture, covered in stamped velvet, neatly arranged around the walls. On round tables were photograph albums, and on the walls enlarged photographs of Tiare and her first husband, Captain Johnson.
The Chink was not backward to defend himself, and a very lively quarrel ensued. They spoke in the native language, of which I had learnt but half a dozen words, and it sounded as though the world would shortly come to an end; but presently peace was restored and Tiare gave the cook a cigarette. They both smoked comfortably.
They were dark, disagreeable recesses, with grimy tables and forbidding utensils, in which wretchedly made coffee was served with a roll for a few sous; one of them also offered meats of a questionable kind. The Tiare Hotel was five minutes' walk from the quay, at the junction of the rue de Rivoli and the rue de Petit Pologne, close by Pont du Remparts.
A celebration at the Tiare. That Triplett's refitting of the Kawa had been thorough and seamanlike was amply proven by the speed with which she traveled under the favoring trades. When our saddened but still intrepid ship's company reassembled on our limited quarterdeck there was no sign of land visible in any direction. The horizon stretched about our collective heads like an enormous wire halo.
We were all silent for a while, and Tiare fished out of her capacious pocket a handful of cigarettes. She handed one to each of us, and we all three smoked. At last she said: "Since <i ce monsieur> is interested in Strickland, why do you not take him to see Dr. Coutras? He can tell him something about his illness and death." "<i Volontiers>," said the Captain, looking at me.
The old woman can take care of thy children, and Tiare will be glad to have thee back." "Thou art my man and I am thy woman. Whither thou goest I will go, too." For a moment Strickland's fortitude was shaken, and a tear filled each of his eyes and trickled slowly down his cheeks. Then he gave the sardonic smile which was usual with him. "Women are strange little beasts," he said to Dr. Coutras.
The princess in English her familiar Tahitian name, Noanoa Tiare, meant Fragrance of the Jasmine was in the Parc de Bougainville, by the bust of the first French circumnavigator. "Ia ora na!" she greeted me. "Are you ready for adventure?" She handed me a small, soft package, with a caution to keep it safe and dry. I put it in my inside pocket.
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