“Master, I believes in great Gods of white mans. I no tell story, or steals anything that no belonga me. Me heathen, but allee samee good Marquesan boy.”
“Hermionæ,” I said sternly, “I have not yet said that you have stolen anything; but, anyhow, where’s that watch of mine? I missed it out of the pocket of the checked trousers, though you swore that you had placed it there.” I put on my most ferocious look as I proceeded: “Is this the way that you would thank a white man who has lent you his suit?”
He hung his head with shame, avoiding my steadfast gaze.
“I no see watch, master. Someone steal your watch and you blame poor Hermionæ.”
As he stood there in tears before me, I looked at his magnificent form. His tawny figure was shining as with the wonderful varnish of a thousand-guinea Stradivarius violin. About his loins was swathed the decorated, silken tappa sash tied into a fascinating bow at the right hip. I could not be angry with him, so I said softly and sorrowfully: “Hermionæ, what is that bright object that I perceive distinctly peeping, hidden just under that pretty sash bow at your hip?”
He looked at me for a moment with an interrogating, appealing glance, then slowly withdrew the watch from beneath the silken knot.
“Hermionæ,” I said, “it’s no wish of mine that you should fall dead and go to the white man’s hell; neither is it godly for you to have such a wish. True enough, you have sinned in a most perfidious way; but others have sinned as you have sinned. It has even been recorded in the history of the white races that a watch leads many into grievous temptation.”
It was no use. Hermionæ was inconsolable. He still moaned on and beat his bronzed chest as the tears fell upon it. Nothing that I could say could alter his opinion but that to have rewarded my kindness to him by such perfidy merited no less punishment than death.
For a moment, as he wailed on, I gazed steadfastly upon him. Then I said: “Hermionæ, here’s the watch, I give it you—live on.”
For a moment he held the watch in his hand as though stupefied, still sobbing mechanically as his head hung with shame. Then, as he lifted it and heard the tick, tick, it seemed too much for him: still weeping, he turned a somersault and commenced to dance with delight.