t 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 able to be removed to his own
habitation. Thither I bent my way with Domingo, and undertook the sad task
of preparing Virginia's mother and her friend for the melancholy event
which had happened. When we reached the entrance of the valley of the river
of Fan-Palms, some negroes informed us that the sea had thrown many pieces
of the wreck into the opposite bay. We descended towards it; and one of the
first objects which struck my sight upon the beach was the corpse of
Virginia. The body was half covered with sand, and in the attitude in which
we had seen her perish. Her features were not changed; her eyes were
closed, her countenance was still serene; but the pale violets 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 I
took from its grasp a small box. How great was my emotion, when I saw it
contained the picture of Paul; which she had promised him never to part
with while she lived! At the sight of this last mark of the fidelity and
tenderness of the unfortunate girl, I wept bitterly. As for Domingo, he
beat his breast, and pierced the air with his cries. We carried the body of
Virginia to a fisher's hut, and gave it in charge to some poor Malabar
women, who carefully washed away the sand.

"While they were employed in this melancholy office, we ascended with
trembling steps to the plantation. We found Madame de la Tour and Margaret
at prayer, while waiting for tidings from the ship. As soon as Madame de la
Tour saw me coming, she eagerly cried, 'Where is my child, my dear child?'
My silence and my tears apprised her of her misfortune. She was seized with
convulsive stiflings, with agonizing pains, and her voice was only heard in
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 her son was safe, and under the care of the governor, she only
thought of succouring her friend, who had long successive faintings. Madame
de la Tour passed the night in sufferings so exquisite, that I became
convinced there was no sorrow like a mother's sorrow. When she recovered
her senses, she cast her lang