French fiction -- Translations into English; Indians of North America -- Fiction
“At these words my heart revived, and, with the mobility of the savage,
I passed suddenly from an excess of fear to an excess of confidence,
from which, however, Atala soon aroused me. Shaking her head sadly, she
made us a sign to approach her couch.
“‘My father,’ she said, in a weak voice, addressing herself to the
hermit, ‘I am upon the point of death. O Chactas! listen without despair
to the fatal secret I had concealed from you in order not to make you
too miserable, and out of obedience to my mother. Try not to interrupt
me by any marks of grief, which would shorten the few moments I have to
live. I have many things to tell of, and from the beatings of my heart,
which slacken--I do not know what icy burden presses within my bosom--I
feel that I cannot make too much haste!’
“After a short silence, Atala continued thus:--
“‘My sad destiny began almost before I had seen the light. My mother had
conceived me in misfortune. I wearied her bosom, and she brought me into
the world with such painful difficulty that my life was despaired of. To
save me, my mother made a vow. She promised the Queen of Angels that I
should consecrate myself to an unwedded life if I escaped from death.
That fatal vow is now hurrying me to the tomb!
“‘I was entering upon my sixteenth year when I lost my mother. Some
hours before her death she called me to her bedside. “My daughter,”
she said, in the presence of the missionary who was consoling her last
moments, “you know the vow I made for you. Would you belie your mother?
O my Atala, I am leaving you in a world that is not worthy of possessing
a Christian--in the midst of idolators who persecute the God of your
father and of your mother, the God who, after having given you life, has
preserved it to you by a miracle. Ah, my dear child, by accepting the
virgin’s veil, you only renounce the cares of the cabin and the fatal
passions which have tormented your mother’s breast! Come, then, my
well-beloved, come; swear upon this image of the Saviour’s Mother, held
by the hands of this holy priest and of your dying parent, that you will
not betray me in the face of heaven. Remember what I promised for you
in order to save your life, and that, if you do not keep my promise, you
will plunge your mother’s soul into eternal tortures.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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