Virginia's objections, herown tears and entreaties, and the lamentations of Margaret, every bodyexclaiming all the time that it was for the general welfare, they hadcarried her away almost dying. "At least," cried Paul, "if I had bidher farewell, I should now be more calm. I would have said toher,--'Virginia, if, during the time we have lived together, one wordmay have escaped me which has offended you, before you leave me forever,tell me that you forgive me.' I would have said to her,--'Since I amdestined to see you no more, farewell, my dear Virginia, farewell! Livefar from me, contented and happy!'" When he saw that his mother andMadame de la Tour were weeping,--"You must now," said he, "seek someother hand to wipe away your tears;" and then, rushing out of the house,and groaning aloud, he wandered up and down the plantation. He hoveredin particular about those spots which had been most endeared toVirginia. He said to the goats, and their little ones, which followedhim, bleating,--"What do you want of me? You will see with me no moreher who used to feed you with her own hand." He went to the bower calledVirginia's Resting-place, and, as the birds flew around him, exclaimed,"Poor birds! you will fly no more to meet her who cherished you!"--andobserving Fidele running backwards and forwards in search of her, heheaved a deep sigh, and cried,--"Ah! you will never find her again."At length he went and seated himself upon a rock where he had conversedwith her the preceding evening; and at the sight of the ocean upon whichhe had seen the vessel disappear which had borne her away, his heartoverflowed with anguish, and he wept bitterly.
We continually watched his movements, apprehensive of some fatalconsequence from the violent agitation of his mind. His mother andMadame de la Tour conjured him, in the most tender manner, not toincrease their affliction by his despair. At length the latter soothedhis mind by lavishing upon him epithets calculated to awaken hishopes,--calling him her son, her dear son, her son-in-law, whom shedestined for her daughter. She persuaded him to return home, and to takesome food. He seated himself next to the place which used to be occupiedby the companion of his childhood; and, as if she had still beenpresent, he spoke to her, and made as though he would offer her whateverhe knew as most agreeable to her taste: then, starting from thisdream of fancy, he began to weep. For some days he employed himself ingathering together every thing which had belonged to Virginia, the lastnosegays she had worn, the cocoa-shell from which she used to drink; andafter kissing a thousand times these relics of his beloved, to him themost precious treasures which the world contained, he hid them in hisbosom. Amber does not shed so sweet a perfume as the veriest triflestouched by those we love. At length, perceiving that the indulgence ofhis grief increased that of his mother and Madame de la Tour, and thatthe wants of the family demanded continual labour, he began, with theassistance of Domingo, to repair the damage done to the garden.
But, soon after, this young man, hitherto indifferent as a Creole toevery thing that was passing in the world, begged of me to teach himto read and write, in order that he might correspond with Virginia. Heafterwards wished to obtain a knowledge of geography, that he might formsome idea of the country where she would disembark; and of history, thathe might know something of the manners of the society in which she wouldbe placed. The powerful sentiment of love, which directed his presentstudies, had already instructed him in agriculture, and in the art oflaying out grounds with advantage and beauty. It must be admitted, thatto the fond dreams of this restless and ardent passion, mankind areindebted for most of the arts and sciences, while its disappointmentshave given birth to philosophy, which teaches us to bear up undermisfortune. Love, thus, the general link of all beings, becomes thegreat spring of society, by inciting us to knowledge as well as topleasure.
Paul found little satisfaction in the study of geography, which, insteadof describing the natural history of each country, gave only a view ofits political divisions and boundaries. History, and especially modernhistory, interested him little more. He there saw only general andperiodical evils, the causes of which he could not discover; warswithout either motive or reason; uninteresting intrigues; with nationsdestitute of principle, and princes void of humanity. To this branchof reading he preferred romances, which, being chiefly occupied by thefeelings and concerns of men, sometimes represented situations similarto his own. Thus, no book gave him so much pleasure as Telemachus, fromthe pictures it draws of pastoral life, and of the passions which aremost natural to the human breast. He read aloud to his mother and Madamede la Tour, those parts which affected him most sensibly; but sometimes,touched by the most tender remembrances, his emotion would choke hisutterance, and his eyes be filled with tears. He fancied he had foundin Virginia the dignity and wisdom of Antiope, united to the misfortunesand the tenderness of Eucharis. With very different sensations heperused our fashionable novels, filled with licentious morals andmaxims, and when he was informed that these works drew a tolerablyfaithful picture of European society, he trembled, and not without someappearance of reason, lest Virginia should become corrupted by it, andforget him.
More than a year and a half, indeed, passed away before Madame de laTour received any tidings of her aunt or her daughter. During thatperiod she only accidently heard that Virginia had safely arrived inFrance. At length, however, a vessel which stopped here on its way tothe Indies brought a packet to Madame de la Tour, and a letter writtenby Virginia's own hand. Although this amiable and considerate girlhad written in a guarded manner that she might not wound her mother'sfeelings, it appeared evident enough that she was unhappy. The letterpainted so naturally her situation and her character, that I haveretained it almost word for word.
"MY DEAR AND BELOVED MOTHER,
"I have already sent you several letters, written by my own hand, buthaving received no answer, I am afraid they have not reached you. I havebetter hopes for this, from the means I have now gained of sending youtidings of myself, and of hearing from you.
"I have shed many tears since our separation, I who never used to weep,but for the misfortunes of others! My aunt was much astonished, when,having, upon my arrival, inquired what accomplishments I possessed, Itold her that I could neither read nor write. She asked me what then Ihad learnt, since I came into the world; and when I answered that Ihad been taught to take care of the household affairs, and to obey yourwill, she told me that I had received the education of a servant. Thenext day she placed me as a boarder in a great abbey near Paris, whereI have masters of all kinds, who teach me, among other things, history,geography, grammar, mathematics, and riding on horseback. But I haveso little capacity for all these sciences, that I fear I shall make butsmall progress with my masters. I feel that I am a very poor creature,with very little ability to learn what they teach. My aunt's kindness,however, does not decrease. She gives me new dresses every season; andshe had placed two waiting women with me, who are dressed like fineladies. She has made me take the title of countess; but has obliged meto renounce the name of LA TOUR, which is as dear to me as it is to you,from all you have told me of the sufferings my father endured in orderto marry you. She has given me in place of your name that of yourfamily, which is also dear to me, because it was your name when a girl.Seeing myself in so splendid a situation, I implored her to let me sendyou something to assist you. But how shall I repeat her answer! Yet youhave desired me always to tell you the truth. She told me then thata little would be of no use to you, and that a great deal would onlyencumber you in the simple life you led. As you know I could not write,I endeavoured upon my arrival, to send you tidings of myself by anotherhand; but, finding no person here in whom I could place confidence, Iapplied night and day to learn to read and write, and Heaven, who saw mymotive for learning, no doubt assisted my endeavours, for I succeeded inboth in a short time. I entrusted my first letters to some of the ladieshere, who, I have reason to think, carried them to my aunt. This time Ihave recourse to a boarder, who is my friend. I send you her direction,by means of which I shall receive your answer. My aunt has forbid meholding any correspondence whatever, with any one, lest, she says, itshould occasion an obstacle to the
great views she has for my advantage.No person is allowed to see me at the grate but herself, and an oldnobleman, one of her friends, who, she says is much pleased with me.I am sure I am not at all so with him, nor should I, even if it werepossible for me to be pleased with any one at present.
"I live in all the splendour of affluence, and have not a sous atmy disposal. They say I might make an improper use of money. Even myclothes belong to my femmes de chambre, who quarrel about them before Ihave left them off. In the midst of riches I am poorer than when I livedwith you; for I have nothing to give away. When I found that the greataccomplishments they taught me would not procure me the power of doingthe smallest good, I had recourse to my needle, of which happily you hadtaught me the use. I send several pairs of stockings of my own makingfor you and my mamma Margaret, a cap for
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