“Oui! oui! Awaie!” she woefully ejaculated, as she recognized my impertinent presence. Then she peered again, and said: “Tre bon! it’s nicer fiddle man!”
I rose to my feet as though I had just received a knighthood, and bowed with such courtesy as I felt was due at such a moment. I may have blushed, but I do know that my heart warmed considerably to the possibilities of the whole business. Much of the girl’s apprehension seemed to have vanished at discovering that it was I who had accompanied O’Hara on my hands and knees down that damned corridor! Ah me! As she stood there bathed in moonlight, her tiny blue chemise ornamented with flowers, I quite envied O’Hara. The hibiscus blossoms in her mass of rich-hued hair were crushed on that side where her pillowed head had lain but a moment before in sleep. I felt the thrill of her presence. Standing there in the gloom, I saw O’Hara put forth his arms towards Fae Fae.
“Come on, Faey,” he whispered.
Leaning forward in the gloom, Fae Fae misjudged the distance, and placed her mouth on my flushed cheek. Then it really seemed that the tender pressures of our groping hands got inextricably mixed up. I became bolder. Looking into the girl’s face, I said in an appealing way:
“Come, Fae Fae, do come!”
I felt that, to creep into a heathen’s palace to help a maid to elope, and for the maid to refuse to come, would cast a slur on my idea of chivalry and romance such as I could never forget. I was immensely relieved when I noticed Fae Fae stoop and start shuffling about her chamber floor. She was hastily gathering together her spare clothing!
“Awaie! Messieurs!” she cried softly. Then she held up a small bundle, and blushed through the brightness of her eyes. Gallantly I leaned forward and clutched those delicate garments that made up Fae Fae’s trousseau! As for O’Hara, he grinned and then stared in surprise, as he observed my correct manner when I bowed and offered Fae Fae my arm. (He hadn’t read Alexandre Dumas, Byron, Shelley, and Keats, and slept with his dreaming head on a volume of Don Quixote.)
Suddenly a door banged somewhere across the palace courtyard; we distinctly heard distant sounds of laughter and indistinct voices. Then silence came; the door had been closed again.
“Come on, there’s no time to lose,” I whispered, as I clutched the pretty sandals that Fae Fae hurriedly picked up from beneath her bamboo couch. Down the corridor we crept. As Fae Fae caught hold of my hand I returned the gentle pressures of that frightened Tahitian maid. I gathered that she did not realize the seriousness of the business. As we stole along, a puff of wind came down the narrow corridor, and her mass of unkempt hair floated softly against my face. I felt as though some beautiful creation of romance had materialized before my eyes, as a silken tress touched my lips. Only O’Hara’s heavy breathing, as he led the way, and Fae Fae’s frightened gasps, made me realize that the whole business was real enough. We all gave a deep sigh of relief as we stole out into the night. A mighty alarm had seemed to thunder down the silence of that palace corridor. Then O’Hara informed me that he had missed the track whereby we had entered the palace. It was unfortunate, for it necessitated our all climbing over a huge wooden wall that ran along the south side of the track that led to the entrance of the palace stockade.
“Come along, Fae Fae,” said I cheerfully, as the cool air of the moonlit night and the glory of physical movement raised my spirits. O’Hara clambered up to the top of the wall first; releasing Fae Fae’s trembling hand, I followed. It was not hard climbing, for the huge, upright logs were thickly overgrown with tough vine. “Look out!” said I, as I stood in that elevated position and nearly stumbled. Squatting side by side up there, we looked down. Fae Fae stared up at us; she was half hidden in the forest ferns. O’Hara and I clasped each other’s hand to get a better grip, then, bending down, we very carefully gripped hold of Fae Fae’s extended hands and slowly hauled her up to the top of the wall.