“It was the very atmosphere of love. And Lilolilo was a lover. I was for ever crowned with _leis_ by him, and he had his runners bring me _leis_ all the way from the rose-gardens of Mana—you remember them; fifty miles across the lava and the ranges, dewy fresh as the moment they were plucked, in their jewel-cases of banana bark; yard-long they were, the tiny pink buds like threaded beads of Neapolitan coral. And at the _luaus_” (feasts) “the for ever never-ending _luaus_, I must be seated on Lilolilo’s Makaloa mat, the Prince’s mat, his alone and taboo to any lesser mortal save by his own condescension and desire. And I must dip my fingers into his own _pa wai holoi_” (finger-bowl) “where scented flower petals floated in the warm water. Yes, and careless that all should see his extended favour, I must dip into his _pa paakai_ for my pinches of red salt, and limu, and kukui nut and chili pepper; and into his _ipu kai_” (fish sauce dish) “of _kou_ wood that the great Kamehameha himself had eaten from on many a similar progress. And it was the same for special delicacies that were for Lilolilo and the Princess alone—for his _nelu_, and the _ake_, and the _palu_, and the _alaala_. And his _kahilis_ were waved over me, and his attendants were mine, and he was mine; and from my flower-crowned hair to my happy feet I was a woman loved.” Once again Bella’s small teeth pressed into her underlip, as she gazed vacantly seaward and won control of herself and her memories. “It was on, and on, through all Kona, and all Kau, from Hoopuloa and Kapua to Honuapo and Punaluu, a life-time of living compressed into two short weeks. A flower blooms but once. That was my time of bloom—Lilolilo beside me, myself on my wonderful Hilo, a queen, not of Hawaii, but of Lilolilo and Love. He said I was a bubble of colour and beauty on the black back of Leviathan; that I was a fragile dewdrop on the smoking crest of a lava flow; that I was a rainbow riding the thunder cloud . . . ” Bella paused for a moment. “I shall tell you no more of what he said to me,” she declared gravely; “save that the things he said were fire of love and essence of beauty, and that he composed _hulas_ to me, and sang them to me, before all, of nights under the stars as we lay on our mats at the feasting; and I on the Makaloa mat of Lilolilo. “And it was on to Kilauea—the dream so near its ending; and of course we tossed into the pit of sea-surging lava our offerings to the Fire-Goddess of _maile leis_ and of fish and hard _poi_ wrapped moist in the _ti_ leaves. And we continued down through old Puna, and feasted and danced and sang at Kohoualea and Kamaili and Opihikao, and swam in the clear, sweet-water pools of Kalapana. And in the end came to Hilo by the sea.