No part of the entertainment amused me more than the ball, where I witnessed the most startling contrasts of art and nature.  Elegant Frenchwomen side by side with their brown, awkward sisters, and the staff officers in full uniform, in juxta-position with the half-naked islanders.  Many of the natives wore, on this occasion, broad white trousers, with a shirt over them; but there were others who had no other garments than the ordinary short shirt and the pareo.  One of the chiefs who appeared in this costume, and was afflicted with Elephantiasis, {76} offered a most repulsive spectacle.

This evening I saw Queen Pomare for the first time.  She is a woman of 36 years of age, tall and stout, but tolerably well preserved—­as a general rule, I found that the women here fade much less quickly than in other warm climates—­her face is far from ugly, and there is a most good-natured expression round her mouth, and the lower portion of her face.  She was enveloped in a sky-blue satin gown, or rather, sort of blouse, ornamented all round with two rows of rich black blond.  She wore large jessamine blossoms in her ears, and a wreath of flowers in her hair, while in her hand she carried a fine pocket handkerchief beautifully embroidered, and ornamented with broad lace.  In honour of the evening, she had forced her feet into shoes and stockings, though on other occasions she went barefoot.  The entire costume was a present from the King of the French.

The queen’s husband, who is younger than herself, is the handsomest man in Tahiti.  The French jokingly call him the Prince Albert of Tahiti, not only on account of his good looks, but because, like Prince Albert in England, he is not named “the king,” but simply, “the queen’s consort.”  He had on the uniform of a French general, which became him very well; the more so, that he was not in the least embarrassed in it.  The only drawback were his feet, which were very ugly and awkward.

Besides these two high personages, there was in the company another crowned head, namely, King Otoume, the owner of one of the neighbouring islands.  He presented a most comical appearance, having put on, over a pair of full but short white trousers, a bright yellow calico coat, that most certainly had not been made by a Parisian artiste, for it was a perfect model of what a coat ought not to be.  This monarch was barefoot.

The queen’s ladies of honour, four in number, as well as most of the wives and daughters of the chiefs, were dressed in white muslin.  They had also flowers in their ears, and garlands in their hair.  Their behaviour and deportment were surprising, and three of the young ladies actually danced French quadrilles with the officers, without making a fault in the figures.  I was only anxious for their feet, as no one, save the royal couple, wore either shoes or stockings.  Some of the old women had arrayed themselves in European bonnets, while the young ones brought their children, even the youngest, with them, and, to quiet the latter, suckled them without ceremony before the company.