Paul and Virginia

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As soon as the letter was finished, the whole of the family, transported
with joy, repeatedly exclaimed, "Virginia is arrived!" and mistresses
and servants embraced each other. Madame de la Tour said to Paul,--"My
son, go and inform our neighbour of Virginia's arrival." Domingo
immediately lighted a torch of bois de ronde, and he and Paul bent their
way towards my dwelling.

It was about ten o'clock at night, and I was just going to extinguish my
lamp, and retire to rest, when I perceived, through the palisades round
my cottage, a light in the woods. Soon after, I heard the voice of Paul
calling me. I instantly arose, and had hardly dressed myself, when
Paul, almost beside himself, and panting for breath, sprang on my neck,
crying,--"Come along, come along. Virginia is arrived. Let us go to the
port; the vessel will anchor at break of day."

Scarcely had he uttered the words, when we set off. As we were passing
through the woods of the Sloping Mountain, and were already on the
road which leads from the Shaddock Grove to the port, I heard some one
walking behind us. It proved to be a negro, and he was advancing with
hasty steps. When he had reached us, I asked him whence he came, and
whither he was going with such expedition. He answered, "I come from
that part of the island called Golden Dust; and am sent to the port, to
inform the governor that a ship from France has anchored under the Isle
of Amber. She is firing guns of distress, for the sea is very rough."
Having said this, the man left us, and pursued his journey without any
further delay.

I then said to Paul,--"Let us go towards the quarter of the Golden Dust,
and meet Virginia there. It is not more than three leagues from hence."
We accordingly bent our course towards the northern part of the island.
The heat was suffocating. The moon had risen, and was surrounded by
three large black circles. A frightful darkness shrouded the sky; but
the frequent flashes of lightning discovered to us long rows of thick
and gloomy clouds, hanging very low, and heaped together over the centre
of the island, being driven in with great rapidity from the ocean,
although not a breath of air was perceptible upon the land. As we walked
along, we thought we heard peals of thunder; but, on listening more
attentively, we perceived that it was the sound of cannon at a distance,
repeated by the echoes. These ominous sounds, joined to the tempestuous
aspect of the heavens, made me shudder. I had little doubt of their
being signals of distress from a ship in danger. In about half an hour
the firing ceased, and I found the silence still more appalling than the
dismal sounds which had preceded it.

We hastened on without uttering a word, or daring to communicate to
each other our mutual apprehensions. At midnight, by great exertion, we
arrived at the sea shore, in that part of the island called Golden
Dust. The billows were breaking against the bench with a horrible noise,
covering the rocks and the strand with foam of a dazzling whiteness,
blended with sparks of fire. By these phosphoric gleams we
distinguished, notwithstanding the darkness, a number of fishing canoes,
drawn up high upon the beach.

At the entrance of a wood, a short distance from us, we saw a fire,
round which a party of the inhabitants were assembled. We repaired
thither, in order to rest ourselves till the morning. While we were
seated near the fire, one of the standers-by related, that late in
the afternoon he had seen a vessel in the open sea, driven towards the
island by the currents; that the night had hidden it from his view; and
that two hours after sunset he had heard the firing of signal guns
of distress, but that the surf was so high, that it was impossible to
launch a boat to go off to her; that a short time after, he thought he
perceived the glimmering of the watch-lights on board the vessel, which,
he feared, by its having approached so near the coast, had steered
between the main land and the little island of Amber, mistaking the
latter for the Point of Endeavour, near which vessels pass in order to
gain Port Louis; and that, if this were the case, which, however, he
would not take upon himself to be certain of, the ship, he thought,
was in very great danger. Another islander informed us, that he had
frequently crossed the channel which separates the isle of Amber from
the coast, and had sounded it, that the anchorage was very good, and
that the ship would there lie as safely as in the best harbour. "I
would stake all I am worth upon it," said he, "and if I were on board,
I should sleep as sound as on shore." A third bystander declared that
it was impossible for the ship to enter that channel, which was scarcely
navigable for a boat. He was certain, he said, that he had seen the
vessel at anchor beyond the isle of Amber; so that, if the wind rose
in the morning, she would either put to sea, or gain the harbour.
Other inhabitants gave different opinions upon this subject, which
they continued to discuss in the usual desultory manner of the indolent
Creoles. Paul and I observed a profound silence. We remained on this
spot till break of day, but the weather was too hazy to admit of our
distinguishing any object at sea, every thing being covered with fog.
All we could descry to seaward was a dark cloud, which they told us was
the isle of Amber, at the distance of a quarter of a league from the
coast. On this gloomy day we could only discern the point of land on
which we were standing, and the peaks of some inland mountains, which
started out occasionally from the midst of the clouds that hung around
them.

At about seven in the morning we heard the sound of drums in the woods:
it announced the approach of the governor, Monsieur de la Bourdonnais,
who soon after arrived on horseback, at the head of a detachment of
soldiers armed with muskets, and a crowd of islanders and negroes. He
drew up his soldiers upon the beach, and ordered them to make a general
discharge. This was no sooner done, than we perceived a glimmering light
upon the water which was instantly followed by the report of a cannon.
We judged that the ship was at no great distance and all ran towards
that part whence the light and sound proceeded. We now discerned through
the fog the hull and yards of a large vessel. We were so near to her,
that notwithstanding the tumult of the waves, we could distinctly hear
the whistle of the boatswain, and the shouts of the sailors, who cried
out three times, VIVE LE ROI! this being the cry of the French in
extreme danger, as well as in exuberant joy;--as though they wished
to call their princes to their aid, or to testify to him that they are
prepared to lay down their lives in his service.

As soon as the Saint-Geran perceived that we were near enough to render
her assistance, she continued to fire guns regularly at intervals of
three minutes. Monsieur de la Bourdonnais caused great fires to be
lighted at certain distances upon the strand, and sent to all the
inhabitants of the neighbourhood, in search of provisions, planks,
cables, and empty barrels. A number of people soon arrived, accompanied
by their negroes loaded with provisions and cordage, which they had
brought from the plantations of Golden Dust, from the district of La
Flaque, and from the river of the Ram part. One of the most aged of
these planters, approaching the governor, said to him,--"We have heard
all night hollow noises in the mountain; in the woods, the leaves of the
trees are shaken, although there is no wind; the sea-birds seek refuge
upon the land: it is certain that all these signs announce a hurricane."
"Well, my friends," answered the governor, "we are prepared for it, and
no doubt the vessel is also."

Every thing, indeed, presaged the near approach of the hurricane. The
centre of the clouds in the zenith was of a dismal black, while their
skirts were tinged with a copper-coloured hue. The air resounded with
the cries of the tropic-birds, petrels, frigate-birds, and innumerable
other sea-fowl, which notwithstanding the obscurity of the atmosphere,
were seen coming from every point of the horizon, to seek for shelter in
the island.

Towards nine in the morning we heard in the direction of the ocean the
most terrific noise, like the sound of thunder mingled with that of
torrents rushing down the steeps of lofty mountains. A general cry was
heard of, "There is the hurricane!" and the next moment a frightful
gust of wind dispelled the fog which covered the isle of Amber and its
channel. The Saint-Geran then presented herself to our view, her deck
crowded with people, her yards and topmasts lowered down, and her flag
half-mast high, moored by four cables at her bow and one at her stern.
She had anchored between the isle of Amber and the main land, inside
the chain of reefs which encircles the island, and which she had passed
through in a place where no vessel had ever passed before. She presented
her head to the waves that rolled in from the open sea, and as each
billow rushed into the narrow strait where she lay, her bow lifted to
such a degree as to show her keel; and at the same moment her stern,
plunging into the water, disappeared altogether from our sight, as if it
were swallowed up by the surges. In this position, driven by the winds
and waves towards the shore, it was equally impossible for her to return
by the passage through which she had made her way; or, by cutting her
cables, to strand herself upon the beach, from which she was separated
by sandbanks and reefs of rocks. Every billow which broke upon the coast
advanced roaring to the bottom of the bay, throwing up heaps of shingle
to the distance of fifty feet upon the land; then, rushing back, laid
bare its sandy bed, from which it rolled immense stones, with a hoarse
and dismal noise. The sea, swelled by the violence of the wind, rose
higher every moment; and the whole channel between this island and the
isle of Amber was soon one vast sheet of white foam, full of yawning
pits of black and deep billows. Heaps of this foam, more than six feet
high, were piled up at the bottom of the bay; and the winds which swept
its surface carried masses of it over the steep sea-bank, scattering it
upon the land to the distance of half a league. These innumerable white
flakes, driven horizontally even to the very foot of the mountains,
looked like snow issuing from the bosom of the ocean. The appearance of
the horizon portended a lasting tempest; the sky and the water seemed
blended together. Thick masses of clouds, of a frightful form, swept
across the zenith with the swiftness of birds, while others appeared
motionless as rocks. Not a single spot of blue sky could be discerned in
the whole firmament; and a pale yellow gleam only lightened up all the
objects of the earth, the sea, and the skies.

From the violent rolling of the ship, what we all dreaded happened at
last. The cables which held her bow were torn away: she then swung to a
single hawser, and was instantly dashed upon the rocks, at the distance
of half a cable's length from the shore. A general cry of horror issued
from the spectators. Paul rushed forward to throw himself into the
sea, when, seizing him by the arm, "My son," I exclaimed, "would you
perish?"--"Let me go to save her," he cried, "or let me die!" Seeing
that despair had deprived him of reason, Domingo and I, in order to
preserve him, fastened a long cord around his waist, and held it fast
by the end. Paul then precipitated himself towards the Saint-Geran,
now swimming, and now walking upon the rocks. Sometimes he had hopes of
reaching the vessel, which the sea, by the reflux of its waves, had left
almost dry, so that you could have walked round it on foot; but suddenly
the billows, returning with fresh fury, shrouded it beneath mountains of
water, which then lifted it upright upon its keel. The breakers at the
same moment threw the unfortunate Paul far upon the beach, his legs
bathed in blood, his bosom wounded, and himself half dead. The moment
he had recovered the use of his senses, he arose, and returned with new
ardour towards the vessel, the parts of which now yawned asunder from
the violent strokes of the billows. The crew then, despairing of their
safety, threw themselves in crowds into the sea, upon yards, planks,
hen-coops, tables, and barrels. At this moment we beheld an object
which wrung our hearts with grief and pity; a young lady appeared in the
stern-gallery of the Saint-Geran, stretching out her arms towards him
who was making so many efforts to join her. It was Virginia. She had
discovered her lover by his intrepidity. The sight of this amiable girl,
exposed to such horrible danger, filled us with unutterable despair. As
for Virginia, with a firm and dignified mien, she waved her hand, as
if bidding us an eternal farewell. All the sailors had flung themselves
into the sea, except one, who still remained upon the deck, and who
was naked, and strong as Hercules. This man approached Virginia with
respect, and, kneeling at her feet, attempted to force her to throw
off her clothes; but she repulsed him with modesty, and turned away
her head. Then were heard redoubled cries from the spectators, "Save
her!--save her!--do not leave her!" But at that moment a mountain
billow, of enormous magnitude, ingulfed itself between the isle of Amber
and the coast, and menaced the shattered vessel, towards which it rolled
bellowing, with its black sides and foaming head. At this terrible
sight the sailor flung himself into the sea; and Virginia, seeing death
inevitable, crossed her hands upon her breast, and raising upwards her
serene and beauteous eyes, seemed an angel prepared to take her flight
to Heaven.

Oh, day of horror! Alas! every thing was swallowed up by the relentless
billows. The surge threw some of the spectators, whom an impulse of
humanity had prompted to advance towards Virginia, far upon the beach,
and also the sailor who had endeavoured to save her life. This man,
who had escaped from almost certain death, kneeling on the sand,
exclaimed,--"Oh, my God! thou hast saved my life, but I would have given
it willingly for that excellent young lady, who had persevered in not
undressing herself as I had done." Domingo and I drew the unfortunate
Paul to the ashore. He was senseless, and blood was flowing from his
mouth and ears. The governor ordered him to be put into the hands of a
surgeon, while we, on our part, wandered along the beach, in hopes
that the sea would throw up the corpse of Virginia. But the wind having
suddenly changed, as it frequently happens during hurricanes, our search
was in vain; and we had the grief of thinking that we should not be able
to bestow on this sweet and unfortunate girl the last sad duties. We
retired from the spot overwhelmed with dismay, and our minds wholly
occupied by one cruel loss, although numbers had perished in the wreck.
Some of the spectators seemed tempted, from the fatal destiny of this
virtuous girl, to doubt the existence of Providence: for there are in
life such terrible, such unmerited evils, that even the hope of the wise
is sometimes shaken.

In the meantime Paul, who began to recover his senses, was taken to a
house in the neighbourhood, till he was in a fit state to be removed
to his own home. Thither I bent my way with Domingo, to discharge the
melancholy duty of preparing Virginia's mother and her friend for the
disastrous event which had happened. When we had reached the entrance of
the valley of the river of Fan-Palms, some negroes informed us that
the sea had thrown up many pieces of the wreck in the opposite bay. We
descended towards it and one of the first objects that struck my sight
upon the beach was the corpse of Virginia. The body was half covered
with sand, and preserved the attitude in which we had seen her perish.
Her features were not sensibly changed, her eyes were closed, and her
countenance was still serene; but the pale purple hues of death were
blended on her cheek with the blush of virgin modesty. One of her hands
was placed upon her clothes: and the other, which she held on her heart,
was fast closed, and so stiffened, that it was with difficulty that I
took from its grasp a small box. How great was my emotion when I saw
that it contained the picture of Paul, which she had promised him never
to part with while she lived! As for Domingo, he beat his breast, and
pierced the air with his shrieks. With heavy hearts we then carried the
body of Virginia to a fisherman's hut, and gave it in charge of some
poor Malabar women, who carefully washed away the sand.

While they were employed in this melancholy office, we ascended the hill
with trembling steps to the plantation. We found Madame de la Tour and
Margaret at prayer; hourly expecting to have tidings from the ship. As
soon as Madame de la Tour saw me coming, she eagerly cried,--"Where
is my daughter--my dear daughter--my child?" My silence and my tears
apprised her of her misfortune. She was instantly seized with a
convulsive stopping of the breath and agonizing pains, and her voice was
only heard in sighs and groans. Margaret cried, "Where is my son? I do
not see my son!" and fainted. We ran to her assistance. In a short time
she recovered, and being assured that Paul was safe, and under the care
of the governor, she thought of nothing but of succouring her friend,
who recovered from one fainting fit only to fall into another. Madame de
la Tour passed the whole night in these cruel sufferings, and I became
convinced that there was no sorrow like that of a mother. When she
recovered her senses, she cast a fixed, unconscious look towards heaven.
In vain her friend and myself pressed her hands in ours: in vain we
called upon her by the most tender names; she appeared wholly insensible
to these testimonials of our affection, and no sound issued from her
oppressed bosom, but deep and hollow moans.

During the morning Paul was carried home in a palanquin. He had now
recovered the use of his reason, but was unable to utter a word. His
interview with his mother and Madame de la Tour, which I had dreaded,
produced a better effect than all my cares. A ray of consolation gleamed
on the countenances of the two unfortunate mothers. They pressed close
to him, clasped him in their arms, and kissed him: their tears, which
excess of anguish had till now dried up at the source, began to flow.
Paul mixed his tears with theirs; and nature having thus found relief,
a long stupor succeeded the convulsive pangs they had suffered, and
afforded them a lethargic repose, which was in truth, like that of
death.

Monsieur de la Bourdonnais sent to apprise me secretly that the corpse
of Virginia had been borne to the town by his order, from whence it was
to be transferred to the church of the Shaddock Grove. I immediately
went down to Port Louis, where I found a multitude assembled from all
parts of the island, in order to be present at the funeral solemnity,
as if the isle had lost that which was nearest and dearest to it. The
vessels in the harbour had their yards crossed, their flags half-mast,
and fired guns at long intervals. A body of grenadiers led the funeral
procession, with their muskets reversed, their muffled drums sending
forth slow and dismal sounds. Dejection was depicted in the countenance
of these warriors, who had so often braved death in battle without
changing colour. Eight young ladies of considerable families of the
island, dressed in white, and bearing palm-branches in their hands,
carried the corpse of their amiable companion, which was covered with
flowers. They were followed by a chorus of children, chanting hymns, and
by the governor, his field officers, all the principal inhabitants of
the island, and an immense crowd of people.

This imposing funeral solemnity had been ordered by the administration
of the country, which was desirous of doing honour to the virtues of
Virginia. But when the mournful procession arrived at the foot of this
mountain, within sight of those cottages of which she had been so long
an inmate and an ornament, diffusing happiness all around them, and
which her loss had now filled with despair, the funeral pomp was
interrupted, the hymns and anthems ceased, and the whole plain resounded
with sighs and lamentations. Numbers of young girls ran from the
neighbouring plantations, to touch the coffin of Virginia with their
handkerchiefs, and with chaplets and crowns of flowers, invoking her as
a saint. Mothers asked of heaven a child like Virginia; lovers, a heart
as faithful; the poor, as tender a friend; and the slaves as kind a
mistress.

When the procession had reached the place of interment, some negresses
of Madagascar and Caffres of Mozambique placed a number of baskets of
fruit around the corpse, and hung pieces of stuff upon the adjoining
trees, according to the custom of their several countries. Some Indian
women from Bengal also, and from the coast of Malabar, brought cages
full of small birds, which they set at liberty upon her coffin.
Thus deeply did the loss of this amiable being affect the natives
of different countries, and thus was the ritual of various religions
performed over the tomb of unfortunate virtue.

It became necessary to place guards round her grave, and to employ
gentle force in removing some of the daughters of the neighbouring
villagers, who endeavoured to throw themselves into it, saying that
they had no longer any consolation to hope for in this world, and that
nothing remained for them but to die with their benefactress.

On the western side of the church of the Shaddock Grove is a small copse
of bamboos, where, in returning from mass with her mother and Margaret,
Virginia loved to rest herself, seated by the side of him whom she then
called her brother. This was the spot selected for her interment.

At his return from the funeral solemnity, Monsieur de la Bourdonnais
came up here, followed by part of his numerous retinue. He offered
Madame de la Tour and her friend all the assistance it was in his power
to bestow. After briefly expressing his indignation at the conduct of
her unnatural aunt, he advanced to Paul, and said every thing which he
thought most likely to soothe and console him. "Heaven is my witness,"
said he, "that I wished to insure your happiness, and that of your
family. My dear friend, you must go to France; I will obtain a
commission for you, and during your absence I will take the same care
of your mother as if she were my own." He then offered him his hand; but
Paul drew away and turned his head aside, unable to bear his sight.

I remained for some time at the plantation of my unfortunate friends,
that I might render to them and Paul those offices of friendship that
were in my power, and which might alleviate, though they could not heal
the wounds of calamity. At the end of three weeks Paul was able to
walk; but his mind seemed to droop in proportion as his body gathered
strength. He was insensible to every thing; his look was vacant; and
when asked a question, he made no reply. Madame de la Tour, who was
dying said to him often,--"My son, while I look at you, I think I see my
dear Virginia." At the name of Virginia he shuddered, and hastened away
from her, notwithstanding the entreaties of his mother, who begged him
to come back to her friend. He used to go alone into the garden, and
seat himself at the foot of Virginia's cocoa-tree, with his eyes fixed
upon the fountain. The governor's surgeon, who had shown the most humane
attention to Paul and the whole family, told us that in order to cure
the deep melancholy which had taken possession of his mind, we must
allow him to do whatever he pleased, without contradiction: this, he
said, afforded the only chance of overcoming the silence in which he
persevered.

I resolved to follow this advice. The first use which Paul made of his
returning strength was to absent himself from the plantation. Being
determined not to lose sight of him I set out immediately, and desired
Domingo to take some provisions and accompany us. The young man's
strength and spirits seemed renewed as he descended the mountain. He
first took the road to the Shaddock Grove, and when he was near the
church, in the Alley of Bamboos, he walked directly to the spot where
he saw some earth fresh turned up; kneeling down there, and raising
his eyes to heaven, he offered up a long prayer. This appeared to me
a favourable symptom of the return of his reason; since this mark of
confidence in the Supreme Being showed that his mind was beginning to
resume its natural functions. Domingo and I, following his example, fell
upon our knees, and mingled our prayers with his. When he arose, he bent
his way, paying little attention to us, towards the northern part of the
island. As I knew that he was not only ignorant of the spot where the
body of Virginia had been deposited, but even of the fact that it had
been recovered from the waves, I asked him why he had offered up his
prayer at the foot of those bamboos. He answered,--"We have been there
so often."