“It was no longer by sobs that I now interrupted Atala’s recital, but by a torrent of passionate transports known only to savages. I rolled myself upon the ground, twisting my arms and biting my hands. The old priest, with wonderful tenderness, ran from brother to sister, endeavoring to relieve us in a thousand ways. Through the calmness of his heartland from the experience due to his weight of years, he knew how to act upon our youth, and his religion furnished him with accents even more tender and more ardent than our passions. Does not this priest, who had passed forty years of daily sacrifice in the service of God and man upon the mountain, remind you of the holocausts of Israel smoking perpetually on the high places before the Lord? “Alas! it was in vain that he tried to procure a remedy for Atala’s sufferings. Fatigue, grief, poison, and a passion more mortal than all the poisons together, had united to snatch the flower from the desert. Towards evening terrible symptoms began to show themselves. A general numbness took possession of Atala’s limbs, and the extremities of her body became cold. ‘Touch my fingers,’ she said to me; ‘do they not feel quite icy?’ I could not reply. I was overcome with horror. Afterwards she added, ‘Even yesterday, my well-beloved, your contact made me quiver: and now I can no longer feel your hand; I scarcely hear your voice, and the objects in the grotto are disappearing from my sight one after the other. Are not the birds singing? The sun must be nearly setting? Chactas, its rays will be very beautiful in the desert, over my tomb!’ “Atala perceiving that her language had melted us into tears, said softly, ‘Pardon me, my kind friends; I am very weak, but perhaps I shall get stronger. And yet to die so young, all at once, when my heart was so full of life! Chief of prayer, take pity on me; support me. Do you think my mother will be satisfied, and that God will forgive what I have done?’ “‘My daughter,’ replied the holy man, shedding tears, and wiping them away with his trembling, mutilated fingers, ‘all your misfortunes are the result of your ignorance. Your savage education and the want of instruction have been your ruin. You did not know that a Christian cannot dispose of his life. Console yourself, therefore, my dear lamb; God will pardon you, on account of the simplicity of your heart. Your mother, and the imprudent missionary who guided her, are more to be blamed than you; they exceeded their power in imposing an indiscreet vow upon you: but may the Lord be with them! You all three offer a terrible example of the dangers of enthusiasm, and of the want of enlightenment on religious matters. Be of good cheer, my child; He who fathoms our thoughts and our hearts will judge you according to your intentions, which were pure, and not from your action, which was condemnable.