Chapter II: Part 2

"It was midnight when they arrived at the foot of the mountain, on the ridges of which several fires were lighted. Scarcely had they begun to ascend, when they heard voices crying out, 'Is it you, my children?' They answered together with the negroes, 'Yes, it is us;' and soon after perceived their mothers and Mary coming towards them with lighted sticks in their hands. 'Unhappy children!' cried Madame de la Tour, 'from whence do you come? What agonies you have made us suffer!' 'We come, said Virginia, 'from the Black River, where we went to ask pardon for a poor Maroon slave, to whom I gave our breakfast this morning, because she was dying of hunger; and these Maroon negroes have brought us home.'--Madame de la Tour embraced her daughter without being able to speak; and Virginia, who felt her face wet with her mother's tears, exclaimed, 'You repay me for all the hardships I have suffered.' Margaret, in a transport of delight, pressed Paul in her arms, crying, 'And you also, my dear child! you have done a good action.' When they reached the hut with their children, they gave plenty of food to the negroes, who returned to their woods, after praying the blessing of heaven might descend on those good white people.

"Every day was to those families a day of tranquillity and of happiness. Neither ambition nor envy disturbed their repose. In this island, where, as in all the European colonies, every malignant anecdote is circulated with avidity, their virtues, and even their names, were unknown. Only when a traveller on the road of the Shaddock Grove inquired of any of the inhabitants of the plain, 'Who lives in those two cottages above?' he was always answered, even by those who did not know them, 'They are good people.' Thus the modest violet, concealed beneath the thorny bushes, sheds its fragrance, while itself remains unseen.

"Doing good appeared to those amiable families to be the chief purpose of life. Solitude, far from having blunted their benevolent feelings, or rendered their dispositions morose, had left their hearts open to every tender affection. The contemplation of nature filled their minds with enthusiastic delight. They adored the bounty of that Providence which had enabled them to spread abundance and beauty amidst those barren rocks, and to enjoy those pure and simple pleasures which are ever grateful and ever new. It was, probably, in those dispositions of mind that Madame de la Tour composed the following sonnet.

SONNET

TO SIMPLICITY.

Nymph of the desert! on this lonely shore,
Simplicity, thy blessings still are mine,
And all thou canst not give I pleased resign,
For all beside can soothe my soul no more.
I ask no lavish heaps to swell my store,
And purchase pleasures far remote from thine.
Ye joys, for which the race of Europe pine,
Ah! not for me your studied grandeur pour,
Let me where yon tall cliffs are rudely piled,
Where towers the palm amidst the mountain trees,
Where pendant from the steep, with graces wild,
The blue liana floats upon the breeze,
Still haunt those bold recesses, Nature's child,
Where thy majestic charms my spirit seize!

"Paul, at twelve years of age, was stronger and more intelligent than Europeans are at fifteen, and had embellished the plantations which Domingo had only cultivated. He had gone with him to the neighbouring woods, and rooted up young plants of lemon trees, oranges, and tamarinds, the round heads of which are of so fresh a green, together with date palm trees, producing fruit filled with a sweet cream, which has the fine perfume of the orange flower. Those trees, which were already of a considerable size, he planted round this little enclosure. He had also sown the seeds of many trees which the second year bear flowers or fruits. The agathis, encircled with long clusters of white flowers, which hang upon it like the crystal pendants of a lustre. The Persian lilac, which lifts high in air its gay flax-coloured branches. The pappaw tree, the trunk of which, without branches, forms a column set round with green melons, bearing on their heads large leaves like those of the fig tree.

"The seeds and kernels of the gum tree, terminalia, mangoes, alligator pears, the guava, the bread tree, and the narrow-leaved eugenia, were planted with profusion; and the greater number of those trees already afforded to their young cultivator both shade and fruit. His industrious hands had diffused the riches of nature even on the most barren parts of the plantation. Several kinds of aloes, the common Indian fig, adorned with yellow flowers, spotted with red, and the thorny five-angled touch thistle, grew upon the dark summits of the rocks, and seemed to aim at reaching the long lianas, which, loaded with blue or crimson flowers, hung scattered over the steepest part of the mountain. Those trees were disposed in such a manner that you could command the whole at one view. He had placed in the middle of this hollow the plants of the lowest growth: behind grew the shrubs; then trees of an ordinary height: above which rose majestically the venerable lofty groves which border the circumference. Thus from its centre this extensive enclosure appeared like a verdant amphitheatre spread with fruits and flowers, containing a variety of vegetables, a chain of meadow land, and fields of rice and corn. In blending those vegetable productions to his own taste, he followed the designs of Nature. Guided by her suggestions, he had thrown upon the rising grounds such seeds as the winds might scatter over the heights, and near the borders of the springs such grains as float upon the waters. Every plant grew in its proper soil, and every spot seemed decorated by her hands. The waters, which rushed from the summits of the rocks, formed in some parts of the valley limpid fountains, and in other parts were spread into large clear mirrors, which reflected the bright verdure, the trees in blossom, the bending rocks, and the azure heavens.

"Notwithstanding the great irregularity of the ground, most of these plantations were easy of access. We had, indeed, all given him our advice and assistance, in order to accomplish this end. He had formed a path which wound round the valley, and of which various ramifications led from the circumference to the centre. He had drawn some advantage from the most rugged spots; and had blended, in harmonious variety, smooth walks with the asperities of the soil, and wild with domestic productions. With that immense quantity of rolling stones which now block up those paths, and which are scattered over most of the ground of this island, he formed here and there pyramids; and at their base he laid earth, and planted the roots of rose bushes, the Barbadoes flower fence, and other shrubs which love to climb the rocks. In a short time those gloomy shapeless pyramids were covered with verdure, or with the glowing tints of the most beautiful flowers. The hollow recesses of aged trees, which bent over the borders of the stream, formed vaulted caves impenetrable to the sun, and where you might enjoy coolness during the heats of the day. That path led to a clump of forest trees, in the centre of which grew a cultivated tree, loaded with fruit. Here was a field ripe with corn, there an orchard. From that avenue you had a view of the cottages; from this, of the inaccessible summit of the mountain. Beneath that tufted bower of gum trees, interwoven with lianas, no object could be discerned even at noon, while the point of the neighbouring rock, which projects from the mountain commanded a few of the whole enclosure, and of the distant ocean, where sometimes we spied a vessel coming from Europe, or returning thither. On this rock the two families assembled in the evening, and enjoyed, in silence, the freshness of the air, the fragrance of the flowers, the murmurs of the fountains, and the last blended harmonies of light and shade.

"Nothing could be more agreeable than the names which were bestowed upon some of the charming retreats of this labyrinth. That rock, of which I was speaking, and from which my approach was discerned at a considerable distance, was called the Discovery of Friendship. Paul and Virginia, amidst their sports, had planted a bamboo on that spot; and whenever they saw me coming, they hoisted a little white handkerchief, by way of signal of my approach, as they had seen a flag hoisted on the neighbouring mountain at the sight of a vessel at sea. The idea struck me of engraving an inscription upon the stalk of this reed. Whatever pleasure I have felt, during my travels, at the sight of a statue or monument of antiquity, I have felt still more in reading of well written inscription. It seems to me as if a human voice issued from the stone and making itself heard through the lapse of ages, addressed man in the midst of a desert, and told him that I was not alone; that other men, on that very spot, have felt, and thought, and suffered like himself. If the inscription belongs to an ancient nation which no longer exists, it leads the soul through infinite space, and inspires the feeling of its immortality, by showing that a thought has survived the ruins of an empire.

"I inscribed then, on the little mast of Paul and Virginia's flag, those lines of Horace:

Fratres Helenae, lucida sidera,
Ventorumque regat pater,
Obstrictis alils, praeter Iapyga.

'May the brothers of Helen, lucid stars like you, and the Father of the winds, guide you; and may you only feel the breath of the zephyr.'

"I engraved this line of Virgil upon the bark of a gum tree, under the shade of which Paul sometimes seated himself, in order to contemplate the agitated sea:--

Fortunatue et ille deos qui novit agrestes!

'Happy art thou, my son, to know only the pastoral divinities.'

"And above the door of Madame de la Tour's cottage, where the families used to assemble, I placed this line:

At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita.

'Here is a calm conscience, and a life ignorant of deceit.'

"But Virginia did not approve of my Latin; she said, that what I had placed at the foot of her weather flag was too long and too learned. 'I should have liked better,' added she, 'to have seen inscribed, _Always agitated, yet ever constant_.'

"The sensibility of those happy families extended itself to every thing around them. They had given names the most tender to objects in appearance the most indifferent. A border of orange, plantain, and bread trees, planted round a greensward where Virginia and Paul sometimes danced, was called Concord. An old tree, beneath the shade of which Madame de la Tour and Margaret used to relate their misfortunes, was called, The Tears wiped away. They gave the names of Britany and Normandy to little portions of ground where they had sown corn, strawberries, and peas. Domingo and Mary, wishing, in imitation of their mistresses, to recall the places of their birth in Africa, gave the names of Angola and Foullepointe to the spots where grew the herb with which they wove baskets, and where they had planted a calbassia tree. Thus, with the productions of their respective climates, those exiled families cherished the dear illusions which bind us to our native country, and softened their regrets in a foreign land. Alas! I have seen animated by a thousand soothing appellations, those trees, those fountains, those stones which are now overthrown, which now, like the plains of Greece, present nothing but ruins and affecting remembrances.

"Neither the neglect of her European friends, nor the delightful romantic spot which she inhabited, could banish from the mind of Madame de la Tour this tender attachment to her native country. While the luxurious fruits of this climate gratified the taste of her family, she delighted to rear those which were more graceful, only because they were the productions of her early home. Among other little pieces addressed to flowers and fruits of northern climes, I found the following sonnet to the Strawberry.

SONNET.

TO THE STRAWBERRY.

The strawberry blooms upon its lowly bed:
Plant of my native soil! The lime may fling
More potent fragrance on the zephyr's wing,
The milky cocoa richer juices shed,
The white guava lovelier blossoms spread:
But not, like thee, to fond remembrance bring
The vanish'd hours of life's enchanting spring;
Short calendar of joys for ever fled!
Thou bidst the scenes of childhood rise to view,
The wild wood path which fancy loves to trace,
Where, veil'd in leaves, thy fruit of rosy hue,
Lurk'd on its pliant stem with modest grace.
But, ah! when thought would later years renew,
Alas! successive sorrows crowd the space.

"But perhaps the most charming spot of this enclosure was that which was called the Repose of Virginia. At the foot of the rock which bore the name of the Discovery of Friendship, is a nook, from whence issues a fountain, forming, near its source, a little spot of marshy soil in the midst of a field of rich grass. At the time Margaret was delivered of Paul, I made her a present of an Indian cocoa which had been given me, and which she planted on the border of this fenny ground, in order that the tree might one day serve to mark the epocha of her son's birth. Madame de la Tour planted another cocoa, with the same view, at the birth of Virginia. Those fruits produced two cocoa trees, which formed all the records of the two families: one was called the tree of Paul, the other the tree of Virginia. They grew in the same proportion as the two young persons, of an unequal height; but they rose, at the end of twelve years, above the cottages. Already their tender stalks were interwoven, and their young branches of cocoas hung over the basin of the fountain. Except this little plantation, the nook of the rock had been left as it was decorated by nature. On its brown and humid sides large plants of maidenhair glistened with their green and dark stars; and tufts of wave-leaved hartstongue, suspended like long ribands of purpled green, floated on the winds. Near this grew a chain of the Madagascar periwinkle, the flowers of which resemble the red gilliflower; and the long-podded capsicum, the cloves of which are of the colour of blood, and more glowing than coral. The herb of balm, with its leaves within the heart, and the sweet basil, which has the odour of the gilliflower, exhaled the most delicious perfumes. From the steep summit of the mountain hung the graceful lianas, like a floating drapery, forming magnificent canopies of verdure upon the sides of the rocks. The sea birds, allured by the stillness of those retreats, resorted thither to pass the night. At the hour of sunset we perceived the curlew and the stint skimming along the sea shore; the cardinal poised high in air; and the white bird of the tropic, which abandons, with the star of day, the solitudes of the Indian ocean. Virginia loved to repose upon the border of this fountain, decorated with wild and sublime magnificence. She often seated herself beneath the shade of the two cocoa trees, and there she sometimes led her goats to graze. While she prepared cheeses of their milk, she loved to see them browse on the maidenhair which grew upon the steep sides of the rock, and hung suspended upon one of its cornices, as on a pedestal. Paul, observing that Virginia was fond of this spot, brought thither, from the neighbouring forest, a great variety of birds' nests. The old birds, following their young, established themselves in this new colony. Virginia, at stated times, distributed amongst them grains of rice, millet, and maize. As soon as she appeared, the whistling blackbird, the amadavid bird, the note of which is so soft: the cardinal, the black frigate bird, with its plumage the colour of flame, forsook their bushes; the paroquet, green as an emerald, descended from the neighbouring fan palms; the partridge ran along the grass: all advanced promiscuously towards her, like a brood of chickens: and she and Paul delighted to observe their sports, their repasts, and their loves.

"Amiable children! thus passed your early days in innocence, and in the exercise of benevolence. How many times, on this very spot, have your mothers, pressing you in their arms, blessed Heaven for the consolations your unfolding virtues prepared for their declining years, while already they enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing you begin life under the most happy auspices! How many times, beneath the shade of those rocks, have I partaken with them of your rural repasts, which cost no animal its life. Gourds filled with milk, fresh eggs, cakes of rice placed upon plantain leaves, baskets loaded with mangoes, oranges, dates, pomegranates, pine-apples, furnished at the same time the most wholesome food, the most beautiful colours, and the most delicious juices.

"The conversation was gentle and innocent as the repasts. Paul often talked of the labours of the day, and those of the morrow. He was continually forming some plan of accommodation for their little society. Here he discovered that the paths were rough; there that the family circle was ill seated: sometimes the young arbours did not afford sufficient shade, and Virginia might be better pleased elsewhere.

"In the rainy seasons the two families assembled together in the hut, and employed themselves in weaving mats of grass, and baskets of bamboo. Rakes, spades, and hatchets were ranged along the walls in the most perfect order; and near those instruments of agriculture were placed the productions which were the fruits of labour: sacks of rice, sheaves of corn, and baskets of the plantain fruit. Some degree of luxury is usually united with plenty; and Virginia was taught by her mother and Margaret to prepare sherbet and cordials from the juice of the sugar-cane, the orange, and the citron.

"When night came, those families supped together by the light of a lamp; after which, Madame de la Tour or Margaret related histories of travellers lost during the night in such of the forests of Europe as are infested by banditti; or told a dismal tale of some shipwrecked vessel, thrown by the tempest upon the rocks of a desert island. To these recitals their children listened with eager sensibility, and earnestly begged that Heaven would grant they might one day have the joy of showing their hospitality towards such unfortunate persons. At length the two families separated and retired to rest, impatient to meet again the next morning. Sometimes they were lulled to repose by the beating rains, which fell in torrents upon the roof of their cottages; and sometimes by the hollow winds, which brought to their ear the distant murmur of the waves breaking upon the shore. They blessed God for their personal safety, of which their feeling became stronger from the idea of remote danger.

"Madame de la Tour occasionally read aloud some affecting history of the Old or New Testament. Her auditors reasoned but little upon those sacred books, for their theology consisted in sentiment, like that of nature: and their morality in action, like that of the gospel. Those families had no particular days devoted to pleasure, and others to sadness. Every day was to them a holiday, and all which surrounded them one holy temple, where they for ever adored an Infinite Intelligence, the friend of human kind. A sentiment of confidence in his supreme power filled their minds with consolation under the past, with fortitude for the present, and with hope for the future. Thus, compelled by misfortune to return to a state of nature, those women had unfolded in their own bosoms, and in those of their children, the feelings which are most natural to the human mind, and which are our best support under evil.

"But as clouds sometimes arise which cast a gloom over the best regulated tempers, whenever melancholy took possession of any member of this little society, the rest endeavoured to banish painful thoughts rather by sentiment than by arguments. Margaret exerted her gaiety; Madame de la Tour employed her mild theology; Virginia, her tender caresses; Paul, his cordial and engaging frankness. Even Mary and Domingo hastened to offer their succour, and to weep with those that wept. Thus weak plants are interwoven, in order to resist the tempests.

"During the fine season they went every Sunday to the church of the Shaddock Grove, the steeple of which you see yonder upon the plain. After service, the poor often came to require some kind office at their hands. Sometimes an unhappy creature sought their advice, sometimes a child led them to its sick mother in the neighbourhood. They always took with them remedies for the ordinary diseases of the country, which they administered in that soothing manner which stamps so much value upon the smallest favours. Above all, they succeeded in banishing the disorders of the mind, which are so intolerable in solitude, and under the infirmities of a weakened frame. Madame de la Tour spoke with such sublime confidence of the Divinity, that the sick, while listening to her, believed that he was present. Virginia often returned home with her eyes wet with tears and her heart overflowing with delight, having had an opportunity of doing good. After those visits of charity, they sometimes prolonged their way by the Sloping Mountain, till they reached my dwelling, where I had prepared dinner for them upon the banks of the little river which glides near my cottage. I produced on those occasions some bottles of old wine, in order to heighten the gaiety of our Indian repast by the cordial productions of Europe. Sometimes we met upon the seashore, at the mouth of little rivers, which are here scarcely larger than brooks. We brought from the plantation our vegetable provisions, to which we added such as the sea furnished in great variety. Seated upon a rock, beneath the shade of the velvet sunflower, we heard the mountain billows break at our feet with a dashing noise; and sometimes on that spot we listened to the plaintive strains of the water curlew Madame de la Tour answered his sorrowful notes in the following sonnet:--

SONNET

TO THE CURLEW.

Sooth'd by the murmurs on the sea-beat shore
His dun grey plumage floating to the gale,
The curlew blends his melancholy wail
With those hoarse sounds the rushing waters pour.
Like thee, congenial bird: my steps explore
The bleak lone seabeach, or the rocky dale,
And shun the orange bower, the myrtle vale,
Whose gay luxuriance suits my soul no more.
I love the ocean's broad expanse, when dress'd
In limpid clearness, or when tempests blow.
When the smooth currents on its placid breast
Flow calm, as my past moments us'd to flow;
Or when its troubled waves refuse to rest,
And seem the symbol of my present wo.

"Our repasts were succeeded by the songs and dances of the two young people. Virginia sang the happiness of pastoral life, and the misery of those who were impelled, by avarice, to cross the furious ocean, rather than cultivate the earth, and enjoy its peaceful bounties. Sometimes she performed a pantomime with Paul, in the manner of the negroes. The first language of man is pantomime; it is known to all nations, and is so natural and so expressive, that the children of the European inhabitants catch it with facility from the negroes. Virginia recalling, amongst the histories which her mother had read to her, those which had affected her most, represented the principal events with beautiful simplicity. Sometimes at the sound of Domingo's tantam she appeared upon the greensward, bearing a pitcher upon her head, and advanced with a timid step towards the source of a neighbouring fountain, to draw water. Domingo and Mary, who personated the shepherds of Midian, forbade her to approach, and repulsed her sternly. Upon which Paul flew to her succour, beat away the shepherds, filled Virginia's pitcher, and placing it upon her head, bound her brows at the same time with a wreath of the red flowers of the Madagascar periwinkle, which served to heighten the delicacy of her skin. Then, joining their sports, I took upon me the part of Raguel, and bestowed upon Paul my daughter Zephora in marriage.

"Sometimes Virginia represented the unfortunate Ruth, returning poor and widowed to her own country, where after so long an absence, she found herself as in a foreign land. Domingo and Mary personated the reapers. Virginia followed their steps, gleaning here and there a few ears of corn. She was interrogated by Paul with the gravity of a patriarch, and answered, with a faltering voice, his questions. Soon touched with compassion, he granted an asylum to innocence, and hospitality to misfortune. He filled Virginia's lap with plenty; and, leading her towards us, as before the old men of the city, declared his purpose to take her in marriage. At this scene, Madame de la Tour, recalling the desolate situation in which she had been left by her relations, her widowhood, the kind reception she had met with from Margaret, succeeded by the soothing hope of a happy union between their children, could not forbear weeping; and the sensations which such recollections excited led the whole audience to pour forth those luxurious tears which have their mingled source in sorrow and in joy.

"These dramas were performed with such an air of reality, that you might have fancied yourself transported to the plains of Syria or of Palestine. We were not unfurnished, with either decorations, lights, or an orchestra, suitable to the representation. The scene was generally placed in an opening of the forest, where such parts of the wood as were penetrable formed around us numerous arcades of foliage, beneath which we were sheltered from the heat during the whole day; but when the sun descended towards the horizon, its rays, broken upon the trunks of the trees, diverged amongst the shadows of the forest in strong lines of light, which produced the most sublime effect. Sometimes the whole of its broad disk appeared at the end of an avenue, spreading one dazzling mass of brightness. The foliage of the trees, illuminated from beneath by its saffron beams, glowed with the lustre of the topaz and the emerald. Their brown and mossy trunks appeared transformed into columns of antique bronze; and the birds, which had retired in silence to their leafy shades to pass the night, surprised to see the radiance of a second morning, hailed the star of day with innumerable carols.

"Night soon overtook us during those rural entertainments; but the purity of the air, and the mildness of the climate, admitted of our sleeping in the woods secure from the injuries of the weather, and no less secure from the molestation of robbers. At our return the following day to our respective habitations, we found them exactly in the same state in which they had been left. In this island, which then had no commerce, there was so much simplicity and good faith, that the doors of several houses were without a key, and a lock was an object of curiosity to many of the natives.

"Amidst the luxuriant beauty of this favoured climate, Madame de la Tour often regretted the quick succession from day to night which takes place between the tropics, and which deprived her pensive mind of that hour of twilight, the softened gloom of which is so soothing and sacred to the feelings of tender melancholy. This regret is expressed in the following sonnet:--

SONNET

TO THE TORRID ZONE.

Pathway of light! o'er thy empurpled zone
With lavish charms perennial summer strays;
Soft 'midst thy spicy groves the zephyr plays,
While far around the rich perfumes are thrown:
The amadavid bird for thee alone
Spreads his gay plumes, that catch thy vivid rays,
For thee the gems with liquid lustre blaze,
And Nature's various wealth is all thy own.
But, ah! not thine is twilight's doubtful gloom,
Those mild gradations, mingling day with night;
Here instant darkness shrouds thy genial bloom,
Nor leaves my pensive soul that lingering light,
When musing memory would each trace resume
Of fading pleasures in successive flight.

"Paul and Virginia had neither clock nor almanac, nor books of chronology, history, or philosophy. The periods of their lives were regulated by those of nature. They knew the hours of the day by the shadows of the trees, the seasons by the times when those trees bore flowers or fruit, and the years by the number of their harvests. These soothing images diffused an inexpressible charm over their conversation. 'It is time to dine,' said Virginia, 'the shadows of the plantain trees are at their roots; or, 'night approaches; the tamarinds close their leaves.' 'When will you come to see us?' inquired some of her companions in the neighbourhood. 'At the time of the sugar canes,' answered Virginia. 'Your visit will be then still more delightful,' resumed her young acquaintances. When she was asked what was her own age, and that of Paul, 'My brother,' said she, 'is as old as the great cocoa tree of the fountain; and I am as old as the little cocoa tree. The mangoes have borne fruit twelve times, and the orange trees have borne flowers four-and-twenty times, since I came into the world.' Their lives seemed linked to the trees like those of fauns or dryads. They knew no other historical epochas than that of the lives of their mothers, no other chronology than that of their orchards, and no other philosophy than that of doing good, and resigning themselves to the will of Heaven.

"Thus grew those children of nature. No care had troubled their peace, no intemperance had corrupted their blood, no misplaced passion had depraved their hearts. Love, innocence, and piety, possessed their souls; and those intellectual graces unfolded themselves in their features, their attitudes, and their motions. Still in the morning of life, they had all its blooming freshness; and surely such in the garden of Eden appeared our first parents, when, coming from the hands of God, they first saw, approached, and conversed together, like brother and sister. Virginia was gentle, modest, and confiding as Eve; and Paul, like Adam, united the figure of manhood with the simplicity of a child.

"When alone with Virginia, he has a thousand times told me, he used to say to her, at his return from labour, 'When I am wearied, the sight of you refreshes me. If from the summit of the mountain I perceive you below in the valley, you appear to me in the midst of our orchard like a blushing rosebud. If you go towards our mother's house, the partridge, when it runs to meet its young has a shape less beautiful, and a step less light. When I lose sight of you through the trees, I have no need to see you in order to find you again. Something of you, I know not how, remains for me in the air where you have passed, in the grass where you have been seated. When I come near you, you delight all my senses. The azure of heaven is less charming than the blue of your eyes, and the song of the amadavid bird less soft than the sound of your voice. If I only touch you with my finger, my whole frame trembles with pleasure. Do you remember the day when we crossed over the great stones of the river of the Three Peaks; I was very much tired before we reached the bank; but as soon as I had taken you in my arms, I seemed to have wings like a bird. Tell me by what charm you have so enchanted me? Is it by your wisdom? Our mothers have more than either of us. Is it by your caresses? They embrace me much oftener than you. I think it must be by your goodness. I shall never forget how you walked barefooted to the Black River, to ask pardon for the poor wandering; slave. Here, my beloved, take this flowering orange branch, which I have culled in the forest; you will place it at night near your bed. Eat this honeycomb, which I have taken for you from the top of a rock. But first lean upon my bosom, and I shall be refreshed.'

"Virginia then answered, 'Oh my dear brother, the rays of the sun in the morning at the top of the rocks give me less joy than the sight of you. I love my mother, I love yours; but when they call you their son, I love them a thousand times more. When they caress you, I feel it more sensibly than when I am caressed myself. You ask me why you love me. Why, all creatures that are brought up together love one another. Look at our birds reared up in the same nests; they love like us; they are always together like us. Hark? how they call and answer from one tree to another. So when the echoes bring to my ears the air which you play upon your flute at the top of the mountain, I repeat the words at the bottom of the valley. Above all, you are dear to me since the day when you wanted to fight the master of the slave for me. Since that time how often have I said to myself, 'Ah, my brother has a good heart; but for him I should have died of terror.' I pray to God every day for my mother and yours; for you, and for our poor servants; but when I pronounce your name, my devotion seems to increase, I ask so earnestly of God that no harm may befal you! Why do you go so far, and climb so high, to seek fruits and flowers for me? How much you are fatigued!' and with her little white handkerchief she wiped the damps from his brow.

"For some time past, however, Virginia had felt her heart agitated by new sensations. Her fine blue eyes lost their lustre, her cheek its freshness, and her frame was seized with universal languor. Serenity no longer sat upon her brow, nor smiles played upon her lips. She became suddenly gay without joy, and melancholy without vexation. She fled her innocent sports, her gentle labours, and the society of her beloved family; wandering along the most unfrequented parts of the plantation, and seeking every where that rest which she could no where find. Sometimes, at the sight of Paul, she advanced sportively towards him, and, when going to accost him, was seized with sudden confusion: her pale cheeks were overspread with blushes, and her eyes no longer dared to meet those of her brother. Paul said to her, 'The rocks are covered with verdure, our birds begin to sing when you approach, every thing around you is gay, and you only are unhappy.' He endeavoured to soothe her by his embraces; but she turned away her head, and fled trembling towards her mother. The caresses of her brother excited too much emotion in her agitated heart. Paul could not comprehend the meaning of those new and strange caprices.

"One of those summers, which sometimes desolate the countries situated between the tropics, now spread its ravages over this island. It was near the end of December, when the sun in Capricorn darts over Mauritius, during the space of three weeks, its vertical fires. The south wind, which prevails almost throughout the whole year, no longer blew. Vast columns of dust arose from the highways, and hung suspended in the air: the ground was every where broken into clefts; the grass was burnt; hot exhalations issued from the sides of the mountains, and their rivulets, for the most part became dry: fiery vapours, during the day, ascended from the plains, and appeared, at the setting of the sun, like a conflagration. Night brought no coolness to the heated atmosphere: the orb of the moon seemed of blood, and, rising in a misty horizon, appeared of supernatural magnitude. The drooping cattle, on the sides of the hills, stretching out their necks towards heaven, and panting for air, made the valleys reecho with their melancholy lowings; even the Caffree, by whom they were led, threw himself upon the earth, in search of coolness; but the scorching sun had every where penetrated, and the stifling atmosphere resounded with the buzzing noise of insects, who sought to allay their thirst in the blood of man and of animals.

"On one of those sultry nights Virginia, restless and unhappy, arose, then went again to rest, but could find in no attitude either slumber or repose. At length she bent her way, by the light of the moon, towards her fountain, and gazed at its spring, which, notwithstanding the drought, still flowed like silver threads down the brown sides of the rock. She flung herself into the basin; its coolness reanimated her spirits, and a thousand soothing remembrances presented themselves to her mind. She recollected that in her infancy her mother and Margaret amused themselves by bathing her with Paul in this very spot; that Paul afterwards, reserving this bath for her use only, had dug its bed, covered the bottom with sand, and sown aromatic herbs around the borders. She saw, reflected through the water upon her naked arms and bosom, the two cocoa trees which were planted at her birth and that of her brother, and which interwove about her head their green branches and young fruit. She thought of Paul's friendship, sweeter than the odours, purer than the waters of the fountains, stronger than the intertwining palm trees, and she sighed. Reflecting upon the hour of the night, and the profound solitude, her imagination again grew disordered. Suddenly she flew affrighted from those dangerous shades, and those waters which she fancied hotter than the torrid sunbeam, and ran to her mother, in order to find a refuge from herself. Often, wishing to unfold her sufferings, she pressed her mother's hand within her own; often she was ready to pronounce the name of Paul; but her oppressed heart left not her lips the power of utterance; and, leaning her head on her mother's bosom, she could only bathe it with her tears.

"Madame de la Tour, though she easily discerned the source of her daughter's uneasiness, did not think proper to speak to her on that subject. 'My dear child,' said she, address yourself to God, who disposes, at his will, of health and of life. He tries you now, in order to recompense you hereafter. Remember that we are only placed upon earth for the exercise of virtue.'

"The excessive heat drew vapours from the ocean, which hung over the island like a vast awning, and slithered round the summits of the mountains, while long flakes of fire occasionally issued from their misty peaks. Soon after the most terrible thunder reechoed through the woods, the plains and the valleys; the rains fell from the skies like cataracts; foaming torrents rolled down the sides of the mountain; the bottom of the valley became a sea; the plat of ground on which the cottages were built, a little island: and the entrance of this valley a sluice, along which rushed precipitately the moaning waters, earth, trees, and rocks.

"Meantime the trembling family addressed their prayers to God in the cottage of Madame de la Tour, the roof of which cracked horribly from the struggling winds. So vivid and frequent were the lightnings, that, although the doors and window-shutters were well fastened, every object without was distinctly seen through the jointed beams. Paul, followed by Domingo, went with intrepidity from one cottage to another, notwithstanding the fury of the tempest; here supporting a partition with a buttress, there driving in a stake, and only returning to the family to calm their fears, by the hope that the storm was passing away. Accordingly, in the evening the rains ceased, the trade-winds of the south pursued their ordinary course, the tempestuous clouds were thrown towards the north-east, and the setting sun appeared in the horizon.

"Virginia's first wish was to visit the spot called her _Repose_. Paul approached her with a timid air, and offered her the assistance of his arm, which she accepted, smiling, and they left the cottage together. The air was fresh and clear; white vapours arose from the ridges of the mountains, furrowed here and there by the foam of the torrents, which were now becoming dry. The garden was altogether destroyed by the hollows which the floods had worn, the roots of the fruit trees were for the most part laid bare, and vast heaps of sand covered the chain of meadows, and choked up Virginia's bath. The two cocoa trees, however, were still erect, and still retained their freshness: but they were no longer surrounded by turf, or arbours, or birds, except a few amadavid birds, who, upon the points of the neighbouring rocks, lamented, in plaintive notes, the loss of their young.

"At the sight of this general desolation, Virginia exclaimed to Paul, 'You brought birds hither, and the hurricane has killed them. You planted this garden, and it is now destroyed. Every thing then upon earth perishes, and it is only heaven that is not subject to change.' 'Why,' answered Paul, 'why cannot I give you something which belongs to heaven? but I am possessed of nothing even upon earth.' Virginia, blushing, resumed, 'You have the picture of Saint Paul.' Scarcely had she pronounced the words, when he flew in search of it to his mother's cottage. This picture was a small miniature, representing Paul the Hermit, and which Margaret, who was very pious, had long worn hung at her neck when she was a girl, and which, since she became a mother, she had placed round the neck of her child. It had even happened, that being while pregnant, abandoned by the whole world, and continually employed in contemplating the image of this benevolent recluse, her offspring had contracted, at least so she fancied, some resemblance to this revered object. She therefore bestowed upon him the name of Paul, giving him for his patron a saint, who had passed his life far from mankind, by whom he had been first deceived, and then forsaken. Virginia, upon receiving this little picture from the hands of Paul, said to him, with emotion, 'My dear brother, I will never part with this while I live; nor will I ever forget that you have given me the only thing which you possess in the world.' At this tone of friendship this unhoped-for return of familiarity and tenderness, Paul attempted to embrace her; but, light as a bird, she fled, and left him astonished, and unable to account for a conduct so extraordinary.

"Meanwhile Margaret said to Madame de la Tour, 'Why do we not unite our children by marriage? They have a tender attachment to each other.' Madame de la Tour replied, 'They are too young, and too poor. What grief would it occasion us to see Virginia bring into the world unfortunate children, whom she would not perhaps have sufficient strength to rear! Your negro, Domingo, is almost too old to labour; Mary is infirm. As for myself, my dear friend, in the space of fifteen years I find my strength much failed; age advances rapidly in hot climates, and, above all, under the pressure of misfortune. Paul is our only hope: let us wait till his constitution is strengthened, and till he can support us by his labour: at present you well know that we have only sufficient to supply the wants of the day: but were we to send Paul for a short time to the Indies, commerce would furnish him with the means of purchasing a slave; and at his return we will unite him to Virginia: for I am persuaded no one on earth can render her so happy as your son. We will consult our neighbour on this subject.

"They accordingly asked my advice, and I was of their opinion. 'The Indian seas,' I observed to them, are calm, and, in choosing a favourable season, the voyage is seldom longer than six weeks. We will furnish Paul with a little venture in my neighbourhood, where he is much beloved. If we were only to supply him with some raw cotton, of which we make no use, for want of mills to work it, some ebony, which is here so common, that it serves us for firing, and some resin, which is found in our woods: all those articles will sell advantageously in the Indies, though to us they are useless.'

"I engaged to obtain permission from Monsieur de la Bourdonnais to undertake this voyage: but I determined previously to mention the affair to Paul; and my surprise was great, when this young man said to me, with a degree of good sense above his age, 'And why do you wish me to leave my family for this precarious pursuit of fortune? Is there any commerce more advantageous than the culture of the ground, which yields sometimes fifty or a hundred fold? If we wish to engage in commerce, we can do so by carrying our superfluities to the town, without my wandering to the Indies. Our mothers tell me, that Domingo is old and feeble; but I am young, and gather strength every day. If any accident should happen during my absence, above all, to Virginia, who already suffers--Oh, no, no!--I cannot resolve to learn them.'

"This answer threw me into great perplexity, for Madame de la Tour had not concealed from me the situation of Virginia, and her desire of separating those young people for a few years. These ideas I did not dare to suggest to Paul.

"At this period, a ship, which arrived from France, brought Madame de la Tour a letter from her aunt. Alarmed by the terrors of approaching death, which could alone penetrate a heart so insensible, recovering from a dangerous disorder, which had left her in a state of weakness, rendered incurable by age, she desired that her niece would return to France; or, if her health forbade her to undertake so long a voyage, she conjured her to send Virginia, on whom she would bestow a good education, procure for her a splendid marriage, and leave her the inheritance of her whole fortune. The perusal of this letter spread general consternation through the family. Domingo and Mary began to weep. Paul, motionless with surprise, appeared as if his heart was ready to burst with indignation; while Virginia, fixing her eyes upon her mother, had not power to utter a word.

"'And can you now leave us?' cried Margaret to Madame de la Tour. 'No, my dear friend, no, my beloved children,' replied Madame de la Tour; 'I will not leave you. I have lived with you, and with you I will die. I have known no happiness but in your affection. If my health be deranged, my past misfortunes are the cause. My heart, deeply wounded by the cruelty of a relation, and the loss of my husband, has found more consolation and felicity with you beneath these humble huts, than all the wealth of my family could now give me in my own country.'

"At this soothing language every eye overflowed with tears of delight. Paul pressed Madame de la Tour in his arms, exclaiming, 'Neither will I leave you! I will not go to the Indies. We will all labour for you, my dear mother; and you shall never feel any wants with us.' But of the whole society, the person who displayed the least transport, and who probably felt the most, was Virginia; and, during the remainder of the day, that gentle gaiety which flowed from her heart, and proved that her peace was restored, completed the general satisfaction.

"The next day, at sunrise, while they were offering up, as usual, their morning sacrifice of praise, which preceded their breakfast, Domingo informed them that a gentleman on horseback, followed by two slaves, was coming towards the plantation. This person was Monsieur de la Bourdonnais. He entered the cottage where he found the family at breakfast. Virginia had prepared, according to the custom of the country, coffee and rice boiled in water: to which she added hot yams and fresh cocoas. The leaves of the plantain tree supplied the want of table-linen; and calbassia shells, split in two, served for utensils. The governor expressed some surprise at the homeliness of the dwelling: then, addressing himself to Madame de la Tour, he observed, that although public affairs drew his attention too much from the concerns of individuals, she had many claims to his good offices. 'You have an aunt at Paris, Madam,' he added, 'a woman of quality, and immensely rich, who expects that you will hasten to see her, and who means to bestow upon you her whole fortune.' Madame de la Tour replied, that the state of her health would not permit her to undertake so long a voyage. 'At least,' resumed Monsieur de la Bourdonnais, 'you cannot, without injustice, deprive this amiable young lady, your daughter, of so noble an inheritance. I will not conceal from you that your aunt has made use of her influence to oblige you to return; and that I have received official letters, in which I am ordered to exert my authority, if necessary, to that effect. But, as I only wish to employ my power for the purpose of rendering the inhabitants of this colony happy, I expect from your good sense the voluntary sacrifice of a few years, upon which depend your daughter's establishment in the world, and the welfare of your whole life. Wherefore do we come to these islands? Is it not to acquire a fortune? And will it not be more agreeable to return and find it in your own country?'

"He then placed a great bag of piastres, which had been brought hither by one of his slaves, upon the table. 'This,' added he, 'is allotted by your aunt for the preparations necessary for the young lady's voyage.' Gently reproaching Madame de la Tour for not having had recourse to him in her difficulties, he extolled at the same time her noble fortitude. Upon this, Paul said to the governor, 'My mother did, address herself to you, Sir, and you received her ill.'--'Have you another child, Madam? said Monsieur de la Bourdonnais to Madame de la Tour.--'No, Sir,' she replied: 'this is the child of my friend; but he and Virginia are equally dear to us.' 'Young man,' said the governor to Paul, 'when you have acquired a little more experience of the world, you will know that it is the misfortune of people in place to be deceived and thence to bestow upon intriguing vice that which belongs to modest merit.'

"Monsieur de la Bourdonnais, at the request of Madame de la Tour, placed himself next her at the table, and breakfasted in the manner of the Creoles, upon coffee mixed with rice boiled in water. He was delighted with the order and neatness which prevailed in the little cottage, the harmony of the two interesting families, and the zeal of their old servants. 'Here,' exclaimed he, 'I discern only wooden furniture, but I find serene contenances, and hearts of gold.' Paul, enchanted with the affability of the governor, said to him, 'I wish to be your friend; you are a good man.' Monsieur de la Bourdonnais received with pleasure this insular compliment, and, taking Paul by the hand, assured him that he might rely upon his friendship.

"After breakfast, he took Madame de la Tour aside, and informed her that an opportunity presented itself of sending her daughter to France in a ship which was going to sail in a short time; that he would recommend her to a lady a relation of his own, who would be a passenger; and that she must not think of renouncing an immense fortune on account of bring separated from her daughter a few years. 'Your aunt,'he added, 'cannot live more than two years; of this I am assured by her friends. Think of it seriously. Fortune does not visit us every day. Consult your friends. Every person of good sense will be of my opinion.' She answered, 'that, desiring no other happiness henceforth in the world than that of her daughter, she would leave her departure for France entirely to her own inclination.