"'Since her relation,' he added, 'will only give her in marriage to some one with a great name, by the aid of study we become wise and celebrated. I will fly then to study; I will acquire sciences; I will serve my country usefully by my attainments; I shall be independent; I shall become renowned; and my glory will belong only to myself.'
"'My son! talents are still more rare than birth or riches, and are undoubtedly an inestimable good, of which nothing can deprive us, and which every where conciliate public esteem. But they cost dear: they are generally allied to exquisite sensibility, which renders their possessor miserable. But you tell me that you would serve mankind. He who, from the soil which he cultivates, draws forth one additional sheaf of corn, serves mankind more than he who presents them with a book.'
"'Oh! she then,' exclaimed Paul, 'who planted this papaw tree, made a present to the inhabitants of the forest more dear and more useful than if she had given them a library.' And seizing the tree in his arms, he kissed it with transport.
"'Ah! I desire glory only,' he resumed, 'to confer it upon Virginia, and render her dear to the whole universe. But you, who know so much, tell me if we shall ever be married. I wish I was at least learned enough to look into futurity. Virginia must come back. What need has she of a rich relation? she was so happy in those huts, so beautiful, and so well dressed, with a red handkerchief or flowers round her head! Return, Virginia! Leave your palaces, your splendour! Return to these rocks, to the shade of our woods and our cocoa trees! Alas! you are, perhaps, unhappy!' And he began to weep. 'My father! conceal nothing from me. If you cannot tell me whether I shall marry Virginia or no, tell me, at least, if she still loves me amidst those great lords who speak to the king, and go to see her.'
"'Oh! my dear friend,' I answered, 'I am sure that she loves you, for several reasons; but, above all, because she is virtuous.' At those words he threw himself upon my neck in a transport of joy.
"'But what,' said he, 'do you understand by virtue?'
"'My son! to you, who support your family by your labour, it need not be defined. Virtue is an effort which we make for the good of others, and with the intention of pleasing God.'
"'Oh! how virtuous then,' cried he, 'is Virginia! Virtue made her seek for riches, that she might practise benevolence. Virtue led her to forsake this island, and virtue will bring her back.' The idea of her near return fired his imagination, and his inquietudes suddenly vanished. Virginia, he was persuaded, had not written, because she would soon arrive. It took so little time to come from Europe with a fair wind! Then he enumerated the vessels which had made a passage of four thousand five hundred leagues in less than three months; and perhaps the vessel in which Virginia had embarked might not be longer than two. Ship builders were now so ingenious, and sailors so expert! He then told me of the arrangements he would make for her reception, of the new habitation he would build for her, of the pleasures and surprises which each day should bring along with it when she was his wife? His wife! That hope was ecstasy. 'At least, my dear father,' said he, 'you shall then do nothing more than you please. Virginia being rich, we shall have a number of negroes, who will labour for you. You shall always live with us, and have no other care than to amuse and rejoice yourself:' and, his heart throbbing with delight, he flew to communicate those exquisite sensations to his family.
"In a short time, however, the most cruel apprehensions succeeded those enchanting hopes. Violent passions ever throw the soul into opposite extremes. Paul returned to my dwelling absorbed in melancholy, and said to me, 'I hear nothing from Virginia. Had she left Europe she would have informed me of her departure. Ah! the reports which I have heard concerning her are but too well founded. Her aunt has married her to some great lord. She, like others, has been undone by the love of riches. In those books which paint women so well, virtue is but a subject of romance. Had Virginia been virtuous, she would not have forsaken her mother and me, and, while I pass life in thinking of her, forgotten me. While I am wretched, she is happy. Ah! that thought distracts me: labour becomes painful, and society irksome. Would to heaven that war were declared in India! I would go there and die.'
"'My son,' I answered, 'that courage which, prompts us to court death is but the courage of a moment, and is often excited by the vain hopes of posthumous fame. There is a species of courage more necessary, and more rare, which makes us support, without witness, and without applause, the various vexations of life; and that is, patience. Leaning not upon the opinions of others, but upon the will of God, patience is the courage of virtue.'