The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 17Stevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 17
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Samoan Islands -- History; Short stories
"Never tell me," said she; "no man can be lost because he loved Kokua,
and no other fault. I tell you, Keawe, I shall save you with these
hands, or perish in your company. What! you loved me, and gave your
soul, and you think I will not die to save you in return?"
"Ah, my dear! you might die a hundred times, and what difference would
that make?" he cried, "except to leave me lonely till the time comes of
my damnation?"
"You know nothing," said she. "I was educated in a school in Honolulu; I
am no common girl. And I tell you, I shall save my lover. What is this
you say about a cent? But all the world is not American. In England they
have a piece they call a farthing, which is about half a cent. Ah!
sorrow!" she cried, "that makes it scarcely better, for the buyer must
be lost, and we shall find none so brave as my Keawe! But then, there is
France: they have a small coin there which they call a centime, and
these go five to the cent, or thereabout. We could not do better. Come,
Keawe, let us go to the French islands; let us go to Tahiti as fast as
ships can bear us. There we have four centimes, three centimes, two
centimes, one centime; four possible sales to come and go on; and two of
us to push the bargain. Come, my Keawe! kiss me, and banish care. Kokua
will defend you."
"Gift of God!" he cried. "I cannot think that God will punish me for
desiring aught so good! Be it as you will, then; take me where you
please: I put my life and my salvation in your hands."
Early the next day Kokua was about her preparations. She took Keawe's
chest that he went with sailoring; and first she put the bottle in a
corner; and then packed it with the richest of their clothes and the
bravest of the knick-knacks in the house. "For," said she, "we must seem
to be rich folks, or who will believe in the bottle?" All the time of
her preparation she was as gay as a bird; only when she looked upon
Keawe the tears would spring in her eye, and she must run and kiss him.
As for Keawe, a weight was off his soul; now that he had his secret
shared, and some hope in front of him, he seemed like a new man, his
feet went lightly on the earth, and his breath was good to him again.
Yet was terror still at his elbow; and ever and again, as the wind blows
out a taper, hope died in him, and he saw the flames toss and the red
fire burn in hell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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