.

"The body of Paul was placed by the side of his Virginia, at the foot of
the same shrubs; and on that hallowed spot the remains of their tender
mothers, and their faithful servants, are laid. No marble covers the turf,
no inscription records their virtues; but their memory is engraven upon our
hearts, in characters, which are indelible; and surely, if those pure
spirits still take an interest in what passes upon earth, they love to
wander beneath the roofs of these dwellings, which are inhabited by
industrious virtue, to console the poor who complain of their destiny, to
cherish in the hearts of lovers the sacred flame of fidelity, to inspire a
taste for the blessing of nature, the love of labour, and the dread of
riches.

"The voice of the people, which is often silent with regard to those
monuments raised to flatter the pride of kings, has given to some parts of
this island names which will immortalize the loss of Virginia. Near the
Isle of Amber, in the midst of sandbanks, is a spot called the Pass of
Saint Geran, from the name of the vessel which there perished. The
extremity of that point of land, which is three leagues distant, and half
covered by the waves, and which the Saint Geran could not double on the
night preceding the huricane, is called the Cape of Misfortune; and before
us, at the end of the valley, is the Bay of the Tomb, where Virginia was
found buried in the sand; as if the waves had sought to restore her corpse
to her family, that they might render it the last sad duties on those
shores of which her innocence had been the ornament.

"Ye faithful lovers, who were so tenderly united! unfortunate mothers!
beloved family! those woods which sheltered you with their foliage, those
fountains which flowed for you, those hillocks upon which you reposed,
still deplore your loss! No one has since presumed to cultivate that
desolated ground, or repair those fallen huts. Your goats are become wild,
your orchards are destroyed, your birds are fled, and nothing is heard but
the cry of the sparrowhawk, who skims around the valley of rocks. As for
myself, since I behold you no more, I am like a father bereft of his
children, like a traveller who wanders over the earth, desolate and alone."

In saying these words, the good old man retired, shedding tears, and mine
had often flowed, during this melancholy narration.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Paul and Virginia, by Bernadin de Saint-Pierre