“Bemis,” I said, “for heaven’s sake, look at that girl!”

He looked, and his face tensed, growing ashen white.  “She’s the image of you, Bemis,” I pursued.

“For God’s sake, talk low!” he cautioned.  “People are rubbering at me now.  She is mine, I’m sure.  I was here six months a dozen years ago and had an affair with her mother, who sits there.  What can I do?  I have my own at home in Oakland.  I could not tell.  I never knew about that girl until a week ago.  She doesn’t know me.  I saw her on the Broom Road, so I came to-night to have a good look at her.  I was afraid to come alone.  It would do no good for me to tell her.  She’s taken care of.  She’s lovely, isn’t she?  I’d like to take her in my arms once.”

We walked to the Annexe.

“I’ll tell you,” he resumed.  “I can’t blame myself.  I was like any young fellow who comes down here,—­I wasn’t more than twenty-five,—­but I feel like hell.  That child’s face is almost identical, except for color, with my baby of eight or nine at home.  I’m afraid I’ll see it at night when I go back.”

On the trees, which carry all the public announcements, appeared a notice of a concert by the local band: 

Fanfare de Papeete
Le public est informe la Fanfare donnera son
Concert sur la Place du Gouvernement Mardi Soir a 8 heures.

RETRAITE

aux Flambeaux!

All day it rained, but at seven a myriad of stars were in the sky.  The Place du Gouvernement is a large lawn between the group of buildings devoted to administrative affairs, with seats for several score, but not for the hundreds who attended the band concert.  The notice about the flambeaux drew even the few boys and youths who might not have come for the music.

In the center of the lawn was a kiosk, and on the four sides the rue de Rivoli, the garden of the Cercle Militaire, the grounds of the former palace of the Pomares, now the executive offices, and the pavilion of the Revues.

I went early when the lights were being turned on.  Only the sellers of wreaths had arrived, and they seated themselves along the square, their ferns and flowers on the ground beside them.  Then came the venders of sweets, ice-cream, and peanuts, and soon the band and the throng.

An allegro broke upon the air, and stilled for a moment the chatter.  Most of the people stood or strolled in twos or dozens.  They bought wreaths and placed them on their bare heads, while the few who wore hats encircled them with the brilliant greens and blossoms.  Bevies of handsome girls and women in their prettiest tunics, many wearing Chinese silk shawls of blue or pink, their hair tied with bright ribbons, sat on the benches or grouped about the confectionery-stands.  Many carriages and automobiles were parked in the shadows, holding the more reserved citizens—­the governor, the royal family, the bishop, the clergy, and dignified matrons of girth.