But Samoa, following not his comrade’s example, still tarried in the camp of the Hittites and Jebusites of Odo.  Beguiling men of their leisure by his marvelous stories:  and maidens of their hearts by his marvelous wiles.

When I chose, I was completely undisturbed in my arbor; an ukase of Media’s forbidding indiscriminate intrusion.  But thrice in the day came a garrulous old man with my viands.

Thus sequestered, however, I could not entirely elude the pryings of the people of the neighboring islands; who often passed by, slowly paddling, and earnestly regarding my retreat.  But gliding along at a distance, and never essaying a landing, their occasional vicinity troubled me but little.  But now and then of an evening, when thick and fleet the shadows were falling, dim glimpses of a canoe would be spied; hovering about the place like a ghost.  And once, in the stillness of the night, hearing the near ripple of a prow, I sallied forth, but the phantom quickly departed.

That night, Yillah shuddered as she slept.  “The whirl-pool,” she murmured, “sweet mosses.”  Next day she was lost in reveries, plucking pensive hyacinths, or gazing intently into the lagoon.

CHAPTER LXIII Odo And Its Lord

Time now to enter upon some further description of the island and its lord.

And first for Media:  a gallant gentleman and king.  From a goodly stock he came.  In his endless pedigree, reckoning deities by decimals, innumerable kings, and scores of great heroes, chiefs, and priests.  Nor in person, did he belie his origin.  No far-descended dwarf was he, the least of a receding race.  He stood like a palm tree; about whose acanthus capital droops not more gracefully the silken fringes, than Media’s locks upon his noble brow.  Strong was his arm to wield the club, or hurl the javelin; and potent, I ween, round a maiden’s waist.

Thus much here for Media.  Now comes his isle.

Our pleasant ramble found it a little round world by itself; full of beauties as a garden; chequered by charming groves; watered by roving brooks; and fringed all round by a border of palm trees, whose roots drew nourishment from the water.  But though abounding in other quarters of the Archipelago, not a solitary bread-fruit grew in Odo.  A noteworthy circumstance, observable in these regions, where islands close adjoining, so differ in their soil, that certain fruits growing genially in one, are foreign to another.  But Odo was famed for its guavas, whose flavor was likened to the flavor of new-blown lips; and for its grapes, whose juices prompted many a laugh and many a groan.

Beside the city where Media dwelt, there were few other clusters of habitations in Odo.  The higher classes living, here and there, in separate households; but not as eremites.  Some buried themselves in the cool, quivering bosoms of the groves.  Others, fancying a marine vicinity, dwelt hard by the beach in little cages of bamboo; whence of mornings they sallied out with jocund cries, and went plunging into the refreshing bath, whose frothy margin was the threshold of their dwellings.  Others still, like birds, built their nests among the sylvan nooks of the elevated interior; whence all below, and hazy green, lay steeped in languor the island’s throbbing heart.