ABSTRACT
Prince Tamatoa was sitting near me under the palace verandah. It was a short while before the horrible scenes which led to his being shut up again in the prison of Taravao. On his knees sat his pale little daughter, Pomaré V., whom he was gently 104caressing with his great, terrible hands. And the old queen looked at them with an expression of infinite tenderness and unspeakable sadness.
