“These words touched Atala. Her tears fell into the fountain. ‘Ah,’ I continued with vivacity, ‘if your heart spoke like mine! Is not the desert free? Do not the forests contain folds in which we could conceal ourselves? And, in order to be happy, are there so many things necessary for the children of the huts? O maiden, more beautiful than the first dream of a spouse! O my well-beloved, dare to follow me!’ Such was my language. Atala replied to me in a tender tone of voice, ‘My young friend, you have learnt the expressions of the white men; it is easy to deceive an Indian girl!’ ‘What!’ I exclaimed, ‘you call me your young friend. Ah, if a poor slave’—— ‘Well,’ said she, leaning upon me, ‘a poor slave’——
I continued with ardor, ‘Let a kiss assure him of your faith!’ Atala listened to my prayers. As a fawn appears to cling to the flowers of the rosy creepers which it seizes with its delicate tongue on the mountain-steeps, so I remained attached to the lips of my well-beloved.
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“Alas, my dear son, pain is in close attendance upon pleasure. Who could have thought that the moment in which Atala gave me the first token of her love should be precisely that in which she would destroy all my hopes? White hairs of old Chactas, what was your astonishment when the daughter of the sachem pronounced these words: ‘Beautiful prisoner, I have foolishly given way to your desire; but whither will this passion lead us? My religion separates me from you for ever——. Oh, my mother, what hast thou done?’—— Atala became suddenly silent, and kept back I know not what fatal secret about to escape from her lips. Her words plunged me into despair. ‘Well, then,’ I exclaimed, ‘I will be as cruel as you; I will not escape. You shall see me in the flame of fire; you shall hear the groans of my flesh, and you will be full of joy.’ Atala took my hands between both of hers. ‘Poor young idolator,’ she cried, ‘I really grieve for you! You wish me, then, to weep my whole heart out? What a pity I cannot fly with you! Unhappy was the bosom of thy mother, O Atala! Why dost thou not throw thyself to the crocodiles in the fountain?’
“That very moment the crocodiles, at the approach of the setting of the sun, began to make their cries heard. Atala said to me, ‘Let us leave this place.’ I led away the daughter of Simaghan to the foot of the hills, which form gulfs of verdure by advancing their promontories into the savannahs. Everything in the desert was splendidly imposing. The stork was screaming upon its nest; the woods resounded with the monotonous song of the quails, the whistling of the paraquets, the lowing of the bisons and the neighing of the Siminolian cavalry.
“Our promenade was almost a dumb one. I walked by the side of Atala, who was holding the end of the cord which I had forced her to take back again. Sometimes we shed tears, and sometimes we endeavored to smile. A look, now directed towards the sky and then towards the earth; an ear listening to the song of the birds; a gesture towards the setting sun; a hand tenderly pressed; a bosom by turns palpitating and tranquil: the names of Chactas and Atala softly repeated at intervals! Oh, first promenade of love, thy souvenir must be extremely powerful, since after so many years of misfortune it can still stir the heart of old Chactas!
“How incomprehensible are mortals when agitated by the passions! I had just abandoned the generous-hearted Lopez; I had just exposed myself to every danger for the sake of liberty, and in one instant the look of a woman had changed my tastes, my resolutions, my thoughts! Forgetful of my country, my mother, my cabin, and the frightful death awaiting me, I had become indifferent to everything that was not Atala. Lacking strength to raise myself to the reason of a man, I had suddenly fallen into a sort of childishness, and, far from being able to do anything to extricate myself from threatening misfortunes, I almost required some one to provide me with the means of sleep and nourishment.