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