On the fourth day, he asked her a question; on the fifth, she dropped a nut of ointment, and he picked it up and gave it to her; on the sixth, he went over and sat down within three yards of the couch where she lay; and, on the memorable morn of the seventh, he proceeded to open his batteries in form.
The damsel was reclining on the ferns; one hand supporting her cheek, and the other listlessly turning over the leaves of a Tahitian Bible.
The doctor approached.
Now the chief disadvantage under which he laboured was his almost complete ignorance of the love vocabulary of the island.

But French counts, they say, make love delightfully in broken English; and what hindered the doctor from doing the same in dulcet Tahitian.

So at it he went.
"Ah!" said he, smiling bewitchingly, "oee mickonaree; oee ready Biblee ?" No answer; not even a look.
"Ah I matai! very goody ready Biblee mickonaree." Loo, without stirring, began reading, in a low tone, to herself.
"Mickonaree Biblee ready goody maitai," once more observed the doctor, ingeniously transposing his words for the third time.
But all to no purpose; Loo gave no sign.
He paused, despairingly; but it would never do to give up; so he threw himself at full length beside her, and audaciously commenced turning over the leaves.
Loo gave a start, just one little start, barely perceptible, and then, fumbling something in her hand, lay perfectly motionless; the doctor rather frightened at his own temerity, and knowing not what to do next.

At last, he placed one arm cautiously about her waist; almost in the same instant he bounded to his feet, with a cry; the little witch had pierced him with a thorn.

But there she lay, just as quietly as ever, turning over the leaves, and reading to herself.
My long friend raised the siege incontinently, and made a disorderly retreat to the place where I reclined, looking on.
I am pretty sure that Loo must have related this occurrence to her father, who came in shortly afterward; for he looked queerly at the doctor.