Obedient to the instructions of their mistress, the faithful women, Wahine-oma'o and Pau-o-pala'e, presented themselves before Pele at the crater of Kilauea. "Where is my sister? where is Hiiaka?" demanded the jealous goddess. No explanation would suffice. Pele persisted in regarding them as deserters and, at her command, they were put to death.
It has come at last, the situation to which the logic of events has for many days pointed the finger of a relentless fate. For the first time Hiiaka finds herself alone with Lohiau. The history of her life during the past two months seems but a prologue to the drama, the opening scene of which is about to be enacted in the dressing room, as we must call it. For Hiiaka, having gathered a lapful of that passion-bloom, the scarlet lehua, and having plaited three wreaths, with a smile on her face, hangs two of the wreaths about the neck of Lohiau, using the third for her own adornment.
They are sitting on the sacred terrace of Ka-hoa-lii, at the very brink of the caldera, in full view of the whole court, including the sisters of Hiiaka who gather with Pele in the Pit. "Draw nearer," she says to Lohiau, "that I may tie the knot and make the fillet fast about your neck." And while her fingers work with pliant art, her lips quiver with emotion in song:
O Hiiaka ka wahine, Ke apo la i ka pua; Ke kui la, ke uö la i ka manai. Ehá ka lei, ka apana lehua lei A ka wahine la, ku'u wahine, Ku'u wahine o ka ehu makani o lalo. Lulumi aku la ka i kai o Hilo-one: No Hilo ke aloha--aloha wale ka lei, e!
'Twas maid Hiiaka plucked the bloom; This wreath her very hands did weave; Her needle 'twas that pierced each flower; Her's the fillet that bound them in one. Four strands of lehua make the lei-- The wreath bound on by this maid-- Maid who once basked in the calm down there: Her heart harks back to Hilo-one; Wreath and heart are for Hilo-one.
The wreath is placed, the song is sung, yet Hiiaka's arm still clasps Lohiau's neck. Her lithesome form inclines to him. With a sudden motion, Hiiaka throws her arms about Lohiau and draws him to herself. Face to face, lip touches lip, nose presses nose.
The women of Pele's court, chokefull of curiosity and spilling over with suspicion, watchful as a cat of every move, on the instant raise their voices in one Mother-Grundy chorus: "Oh, look! Hiiaka kisses Lohiau! She kisses your lover, Lohiau!"