All the mysterious appeal of the far Pacific, the ocean archipelagos lost in its immensity, all the dread, at the same time, the primitive life, brutal and simple passions, impress themselves upon us by this man's features. Dominating his powerful face, hard and closed, lit up by two piercing eyes, his forest of untamed hair rises, thick and stiff, forming a kind of foreign helmet as an even stranger adornment. It is a striking appearance, an abrupt leap into the unknown world of the wild. One thinks of cannibals waiting for the shipwrecked, patiently awaiting the end of the missionaries' sermon before eating the preacher. The Fiji Islands gave the great war a hundred men. Their giant physiques were employed on the Marseille quay sides in heavy work. They have however born a humiliating grudge about it. They, rich men, owners of their land, used to defending it, they, representatives of military and landed aristocracy are unable to resign themselves to humble jobs. Bearing arms is the only noble profession. The more self-effacing merit in humble tasks eludes them.