The village of Nahua is in a great excitement to-day. Everything wears
an aspect of unusual gaiety. The houses are bedecked with flowers, and
in the center of the village has been erected two rows of high poles
standing about twenty feet apart and extending in a line almost two
hundred feet long. Garlands of flowers are stretched from the top of
these poles in all directions and are also wound around the poles, the
whole forming a canopied avenue of exceeding beauty. Under this canopy
were placed two rows of straw mats; further on were laid more mats in
the form of a letter H. On these mats was spread a banquet consisting of
raw fish with chili peppers, fish dried in the sun, fish that had been
wrapped in leaves and then cooked, devil fish which had been salted and
dried, its long slender tentacles being regarded as an especial dainty.
Then there was lemu, or sea kale, plantain, kalo, a vegetable
resembling, somewhat, the potato, there was kui, or candlenut, ground to
a coarse powder and salted, to be eaten as a relish to the fish. There
were mangoes, guavas, oranges, dates, figs, pomegranates, papiea, young
cocoanuts, the meat of which was not yet hard, but of a thick creamy
appearance and had to be scooped out with little spoon-shaped pieces of
shell. Then there was a large number of small cups made of wood
curiously carved, containing a peculiar, greyish looking mass of
something that would put one in mind of paste, if one were not told it
was a very much liked dish, in fact, being the _piece d’ resistance_ of
the feast. Into these little dishes of poi, as it is called, a native
will daintily dip the first finger, then giving it a quick twirl, wrap a
sufficient quantity on the finger, when it is skillfully and gracefully
conveyed to the mouth. For drinking, we were provided small calabashes
full of the juice of the young cocoanut and large calabashes containing
awa awa, a drink very much esteemed by them, being in its effects very
much like whisky.
The cause of all this preparation was the fact that it was the yearly
celebration of the maiden’s feast. On this day the inhabitants of the
four villages on the island gathered at Nahua, the principal village of
the kingdom.
All the morning of this day, Mabel and Etta had been very busy and now
were resting under the shade of the trellis of their cottage, when a
native girl, about sixteen years old, came toward the house, followed by
an older girl, each bearing in their hands the fall dress of a native
maiden; the younger girl was Kaelea, the sister of Ahleka. She was
slender and graceful; her charms would have attracted the notice of a
sculptor at first glance; her face was expressive; her features
delicate; her eyes brown, large, soft and languorous; her hair hung in a
wavy mass far below her waist. She moved with a peculiar grace seldom
seen. But, if she was beautiful, what was Maula, who came with her,
Maula was the maiden of the village, of Howcu, the village on that part
of the island, which was beyond the arm of the sea; she was a vision of
voluptuous loveliness, tall and stately, grand in her proportions; her
eyes could melt in tenderest mood or flash in the wildest anger or
proudest defiance. She seemed to bend every one to her will, so strong
and passionate was her nature. She was much darker than Kaelea, being a
full blooded native. In her bearing she somehow made one think of a
tigress; when in a happy mood, moving with a sinuous grace, which was
fascinating, and when angry, one could but admire her grandeur.
As these two girls were crossing the open space, between the two houses,
Etta was saying to Mabel, “I can hardly believe that it is six months
since we landed here. Does it seem possible to you?”
“No, it does not, and yet it is strange that the time should seem to
pass quickly,” replied Mabel. “I feel, whenever I think of my father,
that I should be unhappy, instead of contented, as I am. My poor father,
his heart, I know, is almost broken, for I was his all; and long ’ere
now he has given us up as dead. My poor, poor father, I can picture in
my mind his grief.”
“Do not think of that Mabel. Above all not to-day when every one is
expected to be happy and make merry,” begged Etta.
Mabel, now seeing the two girls coming towards them, got up to receive
them, as did also Etta. Kaelea and Maula entered the cottage, with the
adornments they held in their hands, extended laughingly towards the two
American girls.
Maula was the first to speak: “Your father and your friend have long
been wearing the dress of our country; now we shall see how fair and
beautiful you will look when dressed in the costume which nature teaches
her children to wear. Your loveliness is obscured by the ugly garments
that are put upon you to hinder your movements. When you are dressed as
we are, you will be free; you will never wish to again put on those
clothes which make you so uncomfortable.”
“Well, you see, they do not seem at all uncomfortable to us,” laughed
Mabel, “but, as our clothes are completely worn out, we are obliged to
dress as you do, and I have no doubt we shall like it, too,” this she
added as she noticed a slight frown on Maula’s face. Kaelea took Etta
aside and soon arrayed her in the costume. In the meantime, Maula was
showing Mabel the mysteries of a Nahua maiden’s toilet. First she placed
around her waist a skirt which reached to the knees, being composed of a
series of fringes of grass; around her body was wound a length of soft
kapa, or tree fibre cloth, in color bright blue, this being passed
around the body twice and tied at the side, had both a picturesque and
modest effect. Around her neck was hung a necklace of shells, pure white
in color, and about the size and shape of a grain of rice; this necklace
encircled her throat about twenty times. On her arms were placed shell
bracelets, on her ankles the fringe of soft grass. Last of all a sort of
chaplet, made of the brightest feathers, which crowned her head. When
Maula had placed this upon her shining hair, Mabel stood arrayed for the
first time in the native dress which she was hereafter to wear.
“I feel so oddly, Maula, with this short skirt,” she said.
“You will like the dress, I am sure, when you are used to it,” answered
Maula. “There will be no maiden at the feast half as beautiful as
yourself, and happy will he be, whom you choose to be your husband.”
“Oh, do not think I intend to choose a husband,” quickly answered Mabel,
blushing a deep crimson, “I shall not choose a husband.”
“No,” queried Maula, “then do you not love your friend Allen?”
“No,” came the answer. It was not pleasant to Mabel to be thus
questioned, yet she could not resent it, as it was not intended to
displease her. “I do not love Allen, and if I did I should not choose
him, for in my country the young girls must not choose their husbands,
but wait to be asked in marriage by the young men.”
“Do you mean you do not love him?” exclaimed Maula.
“No, indeed, I do not. Why do you ask?”
“Ah, now is Maula happy. Maula loves Allen. Oh, how she loves him. But
she would have waited until the moon maidens had chosen. Then, if you
had chosen him, Maula would have taken her canoe far out beyond the reef
and thrown herself to the sharks.” As the girl spoke, a passionate light
shone in her eyes, forcing Mabel to believe her. “But now he is Maula’s.
How I love him. I shall be so kind, so gentle, to him that he shall love
me in return. Maula shall be a soft, cooing dove in his hands, a wild
beast of the hills to his enemies.”
“But what if he refuse you?”
“He will not when I look with love into his eyes, open my arms and fold
him to my breast, and press my burning lips to his. I shall dance before
him. He shall see my strength, my ease of movement, my grace; he will
love me!”
She beat her heaving breast with her clenched hands, and Mabel stood
aghast at the intensity of the girl’s love. She, too, could but think
that Allen would not be able to resist this beautiful tigress.
The girl continued, “and if he scorns my love, and says no, then he
shall die. It is our country’s custom. No man is fit to live who will
refuse a maiden’s love. But he shall not die at the hands of our
warriors, but I shall kill him! Maula has a strong arm and can handle
the spear with as sure an aim as her brothers. Maula’s hand shall end
his life. I have sworn it, if he refuses my love. But he will not,”
calming herself. “But you say that in your country the maidens wait to
be asked. There must be many who have no husbands.”
“Yes, that is so,” answered Mabel, “but there is one objection to your
way; if the man does not love the maiden whom he marries, he will be
unhappy. Have you no unhappy marriages?”
“No, they rarely occur. You see, on the day of the maiden’s festival,
each maiden chooses the one she loves; from that moment they belong to
each other, but at the end of a year she is at liberty to go back to her
home and he, also, is permitted to take her back to her father’s house
if he finds she is not lovable, kind, obedient and all that he desires
in a wife; so that all the time she tries to please him and any maiden
can make a man love her by her affectionate gentleness, and when he
learns to love her he tries to please her so that, at the yearly feast
she shall not wish to leave him, and each year they renew their vows.”
“Oh,” said Mabel, “a sort of yearly probation. It is a good plan, for
then they constantly strive to please each other.”
Etta now advanced, accompanied by Kaelea, towards the other two girls.
She, too, was fully dressed in the costume of the island. Her necklace
was a bright red coral, the strip of cloth about her waist a delicate
yellow; otherwise her dress was the same as Mabel’s.