Nor heave an audible sigh,
Withholding the nod, the wink,
And the glance to one side.
I pray you behold me now:—
Here stand I, your guest,
Your companion, your mate!
Lohiau, once roused from his ecstacy, rose to the occasion and with the utmost gallantry and politeness invited Pele to sit with him and partake of the hospitalities of the halau.
When Pele had seated herself on the mat-piled dais, Lohiau, following the etiquette of the country, asked whence she came.
"I am of Kaua'i," she answered.
"There is no woman of Kaua'i your equal in beauty," said Lohiau. "I am the chief and I know, for I visit every part of the whole island."
"You have doubtless traveled about the whole island," answered Pele; "yet there remain places you are not acquainted with and that is where I come from."
"No, no! you are not of Kaua'i. Where are you from?"
Because of his importunity, Pele answered him, "I am from Puna, from the land of the sunrise; from Ha'eha'e, the eastern gate of the sun."
Lohiau bade that they spread the tables for a feast, and he invited Pele to sit with him and partake of the food. But Pele refused food, saying, "I have eaten."
"How can that be?" said he, "seeing you have but now come from a long journey? You had better sit down and eat."
Pele sat with him, but she persistently declined all his offers of food, "I am not hungry."
Lohiau sat at the feast, but he could not eat; his mind was disturbed; his eyes were upon the woman at his side. When they rose from the table he led her, not unwilling, to his house, and he lay down upon a couch by her side. But she would favor him only with kisses. In his growing passion for her he forgot his need of food, his fondness for the hula, the obligations that rested upon him as a host: all these were driven from his head.
All that night and the following day, and another night, and for three days and three nights, he lay at her side, struggling with her, striving to overcome her resistance. But she would grant him only kisses.
