ABSTRACT
Rarahu and I were walking hand in hand along the path to Apiré. It was two days before I must sail. The heat was oppressive and stormy; the air heavy with the scent of ripe guavas; all the plants seemed flagging. Young coco-trees with golden yellow plumes stood out against a dull leaden sky; the peak of Fataoua showed its horns and teeth among clouds; the basalt cliffs seemed literally to weigh hot and heavy on our heads and to oppress our minds as well as our senses.
