I only rose in time for my French lesson. My teacher had a pretty
daughter, named Barbara, who was always present during my lessons, and
who sometimes taught me herself with even more exactitude than her
father. A good-looking young man, who likewise took lessons, was
courting her, and I soon perceived that she loved him. This young man
called often upon me, and I liked him, especially on account of his
reserve, for, although I made him confess his love for Barbara, he
always changed the subject, if I mentioned it in our conversation.
I had made up my mind to respect his reserve, and had not alluded to his
affection for several days. But all at once I remarked that he had
ceased his visits both to me and to his teacher, and at the same time I
observed that the young girl was no longer present at my lessons; I felt
some curiosity to know what had happened, although it was not, after
all, any concern of mine.
A few days after, as I was returning from church, I met the young man,
and reproached him for keeping away from us all. He told me that great
sorrow had befallen him, which had fairly turned his brain, and that he
was a prey to the most intense despair. His eyes were wet with tears. As
I was leaving him, he held me back, and I told him that I would no
longer be his friend unless he opened his heart to me. He took me to one
of the cloisters, and he spoke thus:
"I have loved Barbara for the last six months, and for three months she
has given me indisputable proofs of her affection. Five days ago, we
were betrayed by the servant, and the father caught us in a rather
delicate position. He left the room without saying one word, and I
followed him, thinking of throwing myself at his feet; but, as I
appeared before him, he took hold of me by the arm, pushed me roughly to
the door, and forbade me ever to present myself again at his house. I
cannot claim her hand in marriage, because one of my brothers is
married, and my father is not rich; I have no profession, and my
mistress has nothing. Alas, now that I have confessed all to you, tell
me, I entreat you, how she is. I am certain that she is as miserable as
I am myself. I cannot manage to get a letter delivered to her, for she
does not leave the house, even to attend church. Unhappy wretch! What
shall I do?"
I could but pity him, for, as a man of honour, it was impossible for me
to interfere in such a business. I told him that I had not seen Barbara
for five days, and, not knowing what to say, I gave him the advice which
is tendered by all fools under similar circumstances; I advised him to
forget his mistress.
We had then reached the quay of Ripetta, and, observing that he was
casting dark looks towards the Tiber, I feared his despair might lead
him to commit some foolish attempt against his own life, and, in order
to calm his excited feelings, I promised to make some enquiries from the
father about his mistress, and to inform him of all I heard. He felt
quieted by my promise, and entreated me not to forget him.
In spite of the fire which had been raging through my veins ever since
the excursion to Testaccio, I had not seen my Lucrezia for four days. I
dreaded Father Georgi's suave manner, and I was still more afraid of
finding he had made up his mind to give me no more advice. But, unable
to resist my desires, I called upon Lucrezia after my French lesson, and
found her alone, sad and dispirited.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, as soon as I was by her side, "I think you might
find time to come and see me!"
"My beloved one, it is not that I cannot find time, but I am so jealous
of my love that I would rather die than let it be known publicly. I have
been thinking of inviting you all to dine with me at Frascati. I will
send you a phaeton, and I trust that some lucky accident will smile upon
our love."
"Oh! yes, do, dearest! I am sure your invitation will be accepted:"
In a quarter of an hour the rest of the family came in, and I proffered
my invitation for the following Sunday, which happened to be the
Festival of St. Ursula, patroness of Lucrezia's youngest sister. I
begged Donna Cecilia to bring her as well as her son. My proposal being
readily accepted, I gave notice that the phaeton would be at Donna
Cecilia's door at seven o'clock, and that I would come myself with a
carriage for two persons.
The next day I went to M. Dalacqua, and, after my lesson, I saw Barbara
who, passing from one room to another, dropped a paper and earnestly
looked at me. I felt bound to pick it up, because a servant, who was at
hand, might have seen it and taken it. It was a letter, enclosing
another addressed to her lover. The note for me ran thus: "If you think
it to be a sin to deliver the enclosed to your friend, burn it. Have
pity on an unfortunate girl, and be discreet."
The enclosed letter which was unsealed, ran as follows: "If you love me
as deeply as 'I love you, you cannot hope to be happy without me; we
cannot correspond in any other way than the one I am bold enough to
adopt. I am ready to do anything to unite our lives until death.
Consider and decide."
The cruel situation of the poor girl moved me almost to tears; yet I
determined to return her letter the next day, and I enclosed it in a
note in which I begged her to excuse me if I could not render her the
service she required at my hands. I put it in my pocket ready for
delivery. The next day I went for my lesson as usual, but, not seeing
Barbara, I had no opportunity of returning her letter, and postponed its
delivery to the following day. Unfortunately, just after I had returned
to my room, the unhappy lover made his appearance. His eyes were red
from weeping, his voice hoarse; he drew such a vivid picture of his
misery, that, dreading some mad action counselled by despair, I could
not withhold from him the consolation which I knew it was in my power to
give. This was my first error in this fatal business; I was the victim
of my own kindness.
The poor fellow read the letter over and over; he kissed it with
transports of joy; he wept, hugged me, and thanked me for saving his
life, and finally entreated me to take charge of his answer, as his
beloved mistress must be longing for consolation as much as he had been
himself, assuring me that his letter could not in any way implicate me,
and that I was at liberty to read it.
And truly, although very long, his letter contained nothing but the
assurance of everlasting love, and hopes which could not be realized.
Yet I was wrong to accept the character of Mercury to the two young
lovers. To refuse, I had only to recollect that Father Georgi would
certainly have disapproved of my easy compliance.
The next day I found M. Dalacqua ill in bed; his daughter gave me my
lesson in his room, and I thought that perhaps she had obtained her
pardon. I contrived to give her her lover's letter, which she dextrously
conveyed to her pocket, but her blushes would have easily betrayed her
if her father had been looking that way. After the lesson I gave M.
Dalacqua notice that I would not come on the morrow, as it was the
Festival of St. Ursula, one of the eleven thousand princesses and
martyr-virgins.
In the evening, at the reception of his eminence, which I attended
regularly, although persons of distinction seldom spoke to me, the
cardinal beckoned to me. He was speaking to the beautiful Marchioness G-
---, to whom Gama had indiscreetly confided that I thought her the
handsomest woman amongst his eminence's guests.
"Her grace," said the Cardinal, "wishes to know whether you are making
rapid progress in the French language, which she speaks admirably."
I answered in Italian that I had learned a great deal, but that I was
not yet bold enough to speak.
"You should be bold," said the marchioness, "but without showing any
pretension. It is the best way to disarm criticism."
My mind having almost unwittingly lent to the words "You should be bold"
a meaning which had very likely been far from the idea of the
marchioness, I turned very red, and the handsome speaker, observing it,
changed the conversation and dismissed me.
The next morning, at seven o'clock, I was at Donna Cecilia's door. The
phaeton was there as well as the carriage for two persons, which this
time was an elegant vis-a-vis, so light and well-hung that Donna Cecilia
praised it highly when she took her seat.
"I shall have my turn as we return to Rome," said Lucrezia; and I bowed
to her as if in acceptance of her promise.
Lucrezia thus set suspicion at defiance in order to prevent suspicion
arising. My happiness was assured, and I gave way to my natural flow of
spirits. I ordered a splendid dinner, and we all set out towards the
Villa Ludovisi. As we might have missed each other during our ramblings,
we agreed to meet again at the inn at one o'clock. The discreet widow
took the arm of her son-in-law, Angelique remained with her sister, and
Lucrezia was my delightful share; Ursula and her brother were running
about together, and in less than a quarter of an hour I had Lucrezia
entirely to myself.
"Did you remark," she said, "with what candour I secured for us two
hours of delightful 'tete-a-tete', and a 'tete-a-tete' in a 'vis-a-vis',
too! How clever Love is!"
"Yes, darling, Love has made but one of our two souls. I adore you, and
if I have the courage to pass so many days without seeing you it is in
order to be rewarded by the freedom of one single day like this."
"I did not think it possible. But you have managed it all very well. You
know too much for your age, dearest."
"A month ago, my beloved, I was but an ignorant child, and you are the
first woman who has initiated me into the mysteries of love. Your
departure will kill me, for I could not find another woman like you in
all Italy."
"What! am I your first love? Alas! you will never be cured of it. Oh!
why am I not entirely your own? You are also the first true love of my
heart, and you will be the last. How great will be the happiness of my
successor! I should not be jealous of her, but what suffering would be
mine if I thought that her heart was not like mine!"
Lucrezia, seeing my eyes wet with tears, began to give way to her own,
and, seating ourselves on the grass, our lips drank our tears amidst the
sweetest kisses. How sweet is the nectar of the tears shed by love, when
that nectar is relished amidst the raptures of mutual ardour! I have
often tasted them--those delicious tears, and I can say knowingly that
the ancient physicians were right, and that the modern are wrong.
In a moment of calm, seeing the disorder in which we both were, I told
her that we might be surprised.
"Do not fear, my best beloved," she said, "we are under the guardianship
of our good angels."
We were resting and reviving our strength by gazing into one another's
eyes, when suddenly Lucrezia, casting a glance to the right, exclaimed,
"Look there! idol of my heart, have I not told you so? Yes, the angels
are watching over us! Ah! how he stares at us! He seems to try to give
us confidence. Look at that little demon; admire him! He must certainly
be your guardian spirit or mine."
I thought she was delirious.
"What are you saying, dearest? I do not understand you. What am I to
admire?"
"Do you not see that beautiful serpent with the blazing skin, which
lifts its head and seems to worship us?"
I looked in the direction she indicated, and saw a serpent with
changeable colours about three feet in length, which did seem to be
looking at us. I was not particularly pleased at the sight, but I could
not show myself less courageous than she was.
"What!" said I, "are you not afraid?"
"I tell you, again, that the sight is delightful to me, and I feel
certain that it is a spirit with nothing but the shape, or rather the
appearance, of a serpent."
"And if the spirit came gliding along the grass and hissed at you?"
"I would hold you tighter against my bosom, and set him at defiance. In
your arms Lucrezia is safe. Look! the spirit is going away. Quick,
quick! He is warning us of the approach of some profane person, and
tells us to seek some other retreat to renew our pleasures. Let us go."
We rose and slowly advanced towards Donna Cecilia and the advocate, who
were just emerging from a neighbouring alley. Without avoiding them, and
without hurrying, just as if to meet one another was a very natural
occurrence, I enquired of Donna Cecilia whether her daughter had any
fear of serpents.
"In spite of all her strength of mind," she answered, "she is dreadfully
afraid of thunder, and she will scream with terror at the sight of the
smallest snake. There are some here, but she need not be frightened, for
they are not venomous."
I was speechless with astonishment, for I discovered that I had just
witnessed a wonderful love miracle. At that moment the children came up,
and, without ceremony, we again parted company.
"Tell me, wonderful being, bewitching woman, what would you have done
if, instead of your pretty serpent, you had seen your husband and your
mother?"
"Nothing. Do you not know that, in moments of such rapture, lovers see
and feel nothing but love? Do you doubt having possessed me wholly,
entirely?"
Lucrezia, in speaking thus, was not composing a poetical ode; she was
not feigning fictitious sentiments; her looks, the sound of her voice,
were truth itself!
"Are you certain," I enquired, "that we are not suspected?"
"My husband does not believe us to be in love with each other, or else
he does not mind such trifling pleasures as youth is generally wont to
indulge in. My mother is a clever woman, and perhaps she suspects the
truth, but she is aware that it is no longer any concern of hers. As to
my sister, she must know everything, for she cannot have forgotten the
broken-down bed; but she is prudent, and besides, she has taken it into
her head to pity me. She has no conception of the nature of my feelings
towards you. If I had not met you, my beloved, I should probably have
gone through life without realizing such feelings myself; for what I
feel for my husband.... well, I have for him the obedience which my
position as a wife imposes upon me."
"And yet he is most happy, and I envy him! He can clasp in his arms all
your lovely person whenever he likes! There is no hateful veil to hide
any of your charms from his gaze."
"Oh! where art thou, my dear serpent? Come to us, come and protect us
against the surprise of the uninitiated, and this very instant I fulfil
all the wishes of him I adore!"
We passed the morning in repeating that we loved each other, and in
exchanging over and over again substantial proofs of our mutual passion.
We had a delicious dinner, during which I was all attention for the
amiable Donna Cecilia. My pretty tortoise-shell box, filled with
excellent snuff, went more than once round the table. As it happened to
be in the hands of Lucrezia who was sitting on my left, her husband told
her that, if I had no objection, she might give me her ring and keep the
snuff-box in exchange. Thinking that the ring was not of as much value
as my box, I immediately accepted, but I found the ring of greater
value. Lucrezia would not, however, listen to anything on that subject.
She put the box in her pocket, and thus compelled me to keep her ring.
Dessert was nearly over, the conversation was very animated, when
suddenly the intended husband of Angelique claimed our attention for the
reading of a sonnet which he had composed and dedicated to me. I thanked
him, and placing the sonnet in my pocket promised to write one for him.
This was not, however, what he wished; he expected that, stimulated by
emulation, I would call for paper and pen, and sacrifice to Apollo hours
which it was much more to my taste to employ in worshipping another god
whom his cold nature knew only by name. We drank coffee, I paid the
bill, and we went about rambling through the labyrinthine alleys of the
Villa Aldobrandini.
What sweet recollections that villa has left in my memory! It seemed as
if I saw my divine Lucrezia for the first time. Our looks were full of
ardent love, our hearts were beating in concert with the most tender
impatience, and a natural instinct was leading us towards a solitary
asylum which the hand of Love seemed to have prepared on purpose for the
mysteries of its secret worship. There, in the middle of a long avenue,
and under a canopy of thick foliage, we found a wide sofa made of grass,
and sheltered by a deep thicket; from that place our eyes could range
over an immense plain, and view the avenue to such a distance right and
left that we were perfectly secure against any surprise. We did not
require to exchange one word at the sight of this beautiful temple so
favourable to our love; our hearts spoke the same language.
Without a word being spoken, our ready hands soon managed to get rid of
all obstacles, and to expose in a state of nature all the beauties which
are generally veiled by troublesome wearing apparel. Two whole hours
were devoted to the most delightful, loving ecstasies. At last we
exclaimed together in mutual ecstasy, "O Love, we thank thee!"
We slowly retraced our steps towards the carriages, revelling in our
intense happiness. Lucrezia informed me that Angelique's suitor was
wealthy, that he owned a splendid villa at Tivoli, and that most likely
he would invite us all to dine and pass the night there. "I pray the god
of love," she added, "to grant us a night as beautiful as this day has
been." Then, looking sad, she said, "But alas! the ecclesiastical
lawsuit which has brought my husband to Rome is progressing so
favourably that I am mortally afraid he will obtain judgment all too
soon."
The journey back to the city lasted two hours; we were alone in my vis-
a-vis and we overtaxed nature, exacting more than it can possibly give.
As we were getting near Rome we were compelled to let the curtain fall
before the denouement of the drama which we had performed to the
complete satisfaction of the actors.
I returned home rather fatigued, but the sound sleep which was so
natural at my age restored my full vigour, and in the morning I took my
French lesson at the usual hour.
CHAPTER X
Benedict XIV--Excursion to Tivoli--Departure of Lucrezia--The
Marchioness G.--Barbara Dalacqua--My Misfortunes--I Leave Rome
M. Dalacqua being very ill, his daughter Barbara gave me my lesson. When
it was over, she seized an opportunity of slipping a letter into my
pocket, and immediately disappeared, so that I had no chance of
refusing. The letter was addressed to me, and expressed feelings of the
warmest gratitude. She only desired me to inform her lover that her
father had spoken to her again, and that most likely he would engage a
new servant as soon as he had recovered from his illness, and she
concluded her letter by assuring me that she never would implicate me in
this business.
Her father was compelled to keep his bed for a fortnight, and Barbara
continued to give me my lesson every day. I felt for her an interest
which, from me towards a young and pretty girl, was, indeed, quite a new
sentiment. It was a feeling of pity, and I was proud of being able to
help and comfort her. Her eyes never rested upon mine, her hand never
met mine, I never saw in her toilet the slightest wish to please me. She
was very pretty, and I knew she had a tender, loving nature; but nothing
interfered with the respect and the regard which I was bound in honour
and in good faith to feel towards her, and I was proud to remark that
she never thought me capable of taking advantage of her weakness or of
her position.
When the father had recovered he dismissed his servant and engaged
another. Barbara entreated me to inform her friend of the circumstance,
and likewise of her hope to gain the new servant to their interests, at
least sufficiently to secure the possibility of carrying on some
correspondence. I promised to do so, and as a mark of her gratitude she
took my hand to carry it to her lips, but quickly withdrawing it I tried
to kiss her; she turned her face away, blushing deeply. I was much
pleased with her modesty.
Barbara having succeeded in gaining the new servant over, I had nothing
more to do with the intrigue, and I was very glad of it, for I knew my
interference might have brought evil on my own head. Unfortunately, it
was already too late.
I seldom visited Don Gaspar; the study of the French language took up
all my mornings, and it was only in the morning that I could see him;
but I called every evening upon Father Georgi, and, although I went to
him only as one of his 'proteges', it gave me some reputation. I seldom
spoke before his guests, yet I never felt weary, for in his circle his
friends would criticise without slandering, discuss politics without
stubbornness, literature without passion, and I profited by all. After
my visit to the sagacious monk, I used to attend the assembly of the
cardinal, my master, as a matter of duty. Almost every evening, when she
happened to see me at her card-table, the beautiful marchioness would
address to me a few gracious words in French, and I always answered in
Italian, not caring to make her laugh before so many persons. My
feelings for her were of a singular kind. I must leave them to the
analysis of the reader. I thought that woman charming, yet I avoided
her; it was not because I was afraid of falling in love with her; I
loved Lucrezia, and I firmly believed that such an affection was a
shield against any other attachment, but it was because I feared that
she might love me or have a passing fancy for me. Was it self-conceit or
modesty, vice or virtue? Perhaps neither one nor the other.
One evening she desired the Abbe Gama to call me to her; she was
standing near the cardinal, my patron, and the moment I approached her
she caused me a strange feeling of surprise by asking me in Italian a
question which I was far from anticipating:
"How did you like Frascati?"
"Very much, madam; I have never seen such a beautiful place."
"But your company was still more beautiful, and your vis-a-vis was very
smart."
I only bowed low to the marchioness, and a moment after Cardinal
Acquaviva said to me, kindly,
"You are astonished at your adventure being known?"
"No, my lord; but I am surprised that people should talk of it. I could
not have believed Rome to be so much like a small village."
"The longer you live in Rome," said his eminence, "the more you will
find it so. You have not yet presented yourself to kiss the foot of our
Holy Father?"
"Not yet, my lord."
"Then you must do so."
I bowed in compliance to his wishes.
The Abbe Gama told me to present myself to the Pope on the morrow, and
he added,
"Of course you have already shewn yourself in the Marchioness G.'s
palace?"
"No, I have never been there."
"You astonish me; but she often speaks to you!"
"I have no objection to go with you."
"I never visit at her palace."
"Yet she speaks to you likewise."
"Yes, but.... You do not know Rome; go alone; believe me, you ought to
go."
"Will she receive me?"
"You are joking, I suppose. Of course it is out of the question for you
to be announced. You will call when the doors are wide open to
everybody. You will meet there all those who pay homage to her."
"Will she see me?"
"No doubt of it."
On the following day I proceeded to Monte-Cavallo, and I was at once led
into the room where the Pope was alone. I threw myself on my knees and
kissed the holy cross on his most holy slipper. The Pope enquiring who I
was, I told him, and he answered that he knew me, congratulating me upon
my being in the service of so eminent a cardinal. He asked me how I had
succeeded in gaining the cardinal's favour; I answered with a faithful
recital of my adventures from my arrival at Martorano. He laughed
heartily at all I said respecting the poor and worthy bishop, and
remarked that, instead of trying to address him in Tuscan, I could speak
in the Venetian dialect, as he was himself speaking to me in the dialect
of Bologna. I felt quite at my ease with him, and I told him so much
news and amused him so well that the Holy Father kindly said that he
would be glad to see me whenever I presented myself at Monte-Cavallo. I
begged his permission to read all forbidden books, and he granted it
with his blessing, saying that I should have the permission in writing,
but he forgot it.
Benedict XIV, was a learned man, very amiable, and fond of a joke. I saw
him for the second time at the Villa Medicis. He called me to him, and
continued his walk, speaking of trifling things. He was then accompanied
by Cardinal Albani and the ambassador from Venice. A man of modest
appearance approached His Holiness, who asked what he required; the man
said a few words in a low voice, and, after listening to him, the Pope
answered, "You are right, place your trust in God;" and he gave him his
blessing. The poor fellow went away very dejected, and the Holy Father
continued his walk.
"This man," I said, "most Holy Father, has not been pleased with the
answer of Your Holiness."
"Why?"
"Because most likely he had already addressed himself to God before he
ventured to apply to you; and when Your Holiness sends him to God again,
he finds himself sent back, as the proverb says, from Herod to Pilate."
The Pope, as well as his two companions, laughed heartily; but I kept a
serious countenance.
"I cannot," continued the Pope, "do any good without God's assistance."
"Very true, Holy Father; but the man is aware that you are God's prime
minister, and it is easy to imagine his trouble now that the minister
sends him again to the master. His only resource is to give money to the
beggars of Rome, who for one 'bajocco' will pray for him. They boast of
their influence before the throne of the Almighty, but as I have faith
only in your credit, I entreat Your Holiness to deliver me of the heat
which inflames my eyes by granting me permission to eat meat."
"Eat meat, my son."
"Holy Father, give me your blessing."
He blessed me, adding that I was not dispensed from fasting.
That very evening, at the cardinal's assembly, I found that the news of
my dialogue with the Pope was already known. Everybody was anxious to
speak to me. I felt flattered, but I was much more delighted at the joy
which Cardinal Acquaviva tried in vain to conceal.
As I wished not to neglect Gama's advice, I presented myself at the
mansion of the beautiful marchioness at the hour at which everyone had
free access to her ladyship. I saw her, I saw the cardinal and a great
many abbes; but I might have supposed myself invisible, for no one
honoured me with a look, and no one spoke to me. I left after having
performed for half an hour the character of a mute. Five or six days
afterwards, the marchioness told me graciously that she had caught a
sight of me in her reception-rooms.
"I was there, it is true, madam; but I had no idea that I had had the
honour to be seen by your ladyship."
"Oh! I see everybody. They tell me that you have wit."
"If it is not a mistake on the part of your informants, your ladyship
gives me very good news."
"Oh! they are excellent judges."
"Then, madam, those persons must have honoured me with their
conversation; otherwise, it is not likely that they would have been able
to express such an opinion."
"No doubt; but let me see you often at my receptions."
Our conversation had been overheard by those who were around; his
excellency the cardinal told me that, when the marchioness addressed
herself particularly to me in French, my duty was to answer her in the
same language, good or bad. The cunning politician Gama took me apart,
and remarked that my repartees were too smart, too cutting, and that,
after a time, I would be sure to displease. I had made considerable
progress in French; I had given up my lessons, and practice was all I
required. I was then in the habit of calling sometimes upon Lucrezia in
the morning, and of visiting in the evening Father Georgi, who was
acquainted with the excursion to Frascati, and had not expressed any
dissatisfaction.
Two days after the sort of command laid upon me by the marchioness, I
presented myself at her reception. As soon as she saw me, she favoured
me with a smile which I acknowledged by a deep reverence; that was all.
In a quarter of an hour afterwards I left the mansion. The marchioness
was beautiful, but she was powerful, and I could not make up my mind to
crawl at the feet of power, and, on that head, I felt disgusted with the
manners of the Romans.
One morning towards the end of November the advocate, accompanied by
Angelique's intended, called on me. The latter gave me a pressing
invitation to spend twenty-four hours at Tivoli with the friends I had
entertained at Frascati. I accepted with great pleasure, for I had found
no opportunity of being alone with Lucrezia since the Festival of St.
Ursula. I promised to be at Donna Cecilia's house at day-break with the
same 'vis-a-vis'. It was necessary to start very early, because Tivoli
is sixteen miles from Rome, and has so many objects of interest that it
requires many hours to see them all. As I had to sleep out that night, I
craved permission to do so from the cardinal himself, who, hearing with
whom I was going, told me that I was quite right not to lose such an
opportunity of visiting that splendid place in such good society.
The first dawn of day found me with my 'vis-a-vis' and four at the door
of Donna Cecilia, who came with me as before. The charming widow,
notwithstanding her strict morality, was delighted at my love for her
daughter. The family rode in a large phaeton hired by Don Francisco,
which gave room for six persons.
At half-past seven in the morning we made a halt at a small place where
had been prepared, by Don Franciso's orders, an excellent breakfast,
which was intended to replace the dinner, and we all made a hearty meal,
as we were not likely to find time for anything but supper at Tivoli. I
wore on my finger the beautiful ring which Lucrezia had given me. At the
back of the ring I had had a piece of enamel placed, on it was
delineated a saduceus, with one serpent between the letters Alpha and
Omega. This ring was the subject of conversation during breakfast, and
Don Francisco, as well as the advocate, exerted himself in vain to guess
the meaning of the hieroglyphs; much to the amusement of Lucrezia, who
understood the mysterious secret so well. We continued our road, and
reached Tivoli at ten o'clock.
We began by visiting Don Francisco's villa. It was a beautiful little
house, and we spent the following six hours in examining together the
antiquities of Tivoli. Lucrezia having occasion to whisper a few words
to Don Francisco, I seized the opportunity of telling Angelique that
after her marriage I should be happy to spend a few days of the fine
season with her.
"Sir," she answered, "I give you fair notice that the moment I become
mistress in this house you will be the very first person to be
excluded."
"I feel greatly obliged to you, signora, for your timely notice."
But the most amusing part of the affair was that I construed Angelique's
wanton insult into a declaration of love. I was astounded. Lucrezia,
remarking the state I was in, touched my arm, enquiring what ailed me. I
told her, and she said at once,
"My darling, my happiness cannot last long; the cruel moment of our
separation is drawing near. When I have gone, pray undertake the task of
compelling her to acknowledge her error. Angelique pities me, be sure to
avenge me."
I have forgotten to mention that at Don Francisco's villa I happened to
praise a very pretty room opening upon the orange-house, and the amiable
host, having heard me, came obligingly to me, and said that it should be
my room that night. Lucrezia feigned not to hear, but it was to her
Ariadne's clue, for, as we were to remain altogether during our visit to
the beauties of Tivoli, we had no chance of a tete-a-tete through the
day.
I have said that we devoted six hours to an examination of the
antiquities of Tivoli, but I am bound to confess here that I saw, for my
part, very little of them, and it was only twenty-eight years later that
I made a thorough acquaintance with the beautiful spot.
We returned to the villa towards evening, fatigued and very hungry, but
an hour's rest before supper--a repast which lasted two hours, the most
delicious dishes, the most exquisite wines, and particularly the
excellent wine of Tivoli--restored us so well that everybody wanted
nothing more than a good bed and the freedom to enjoy the bed according
to his own taste.
As everybody objected to sleep alone, Lucrezia said that she would sleep
with Angelique in one of the rooms leading to the orange-house, and
proposed that her husband should share a room with the young abbe, his
brother-in-law, and that Donna Cecilia should take her youngest daughter
with her.
The arrangement met with general approbation, and Don Francisco, taking
a candle, escorted me to my pretty little room adjoining the one in
which the two sisters were to sleep, and, after shewing me how I could
lock myself in, he wished me good night and left me alone.
Angelique had no idea that I was her near neighbour, but Lucrezia and I,
without exchanging a single word on the subject, had perfectly
understood each other.
I watched through the key-hole and saw the two sisters come into their
room, preceded by the polite Don Francisco, who carried a taper, and,
after lighting a night-lamp, bade them good night and retired. Then my
two beauties, their door once locked, sat down on the sofa and completed
their night toilet, which, in that fortunate climate, is similar to the
costume of our first mother. Lucrezia, knowing that I was waiting to
come in, told her sister to lie down on the side towards the window, and
the virgin, having no idea that she was exposing her most secret
beauties to my profane eyes, crossed the room in a state of complete
nakedness. Lucrezia put out the lamp and lay down near her innocent
sister.
Happy moments which I can no longer enjoy, but the sweet remembrance of
which death alone can make me lose! I believe I never undressed myself
as quickly as I did that evening.
I open the door and fall into the arms of my Lucrezia, who says to her
sister, "It is my angel, my love; never mind him, and go to sleep."
What a delightful picture I could offer to my readers if it were
possible for me to paint voluptuousness in its most enchanting colours!
What ecstasies of love from the very onset! What delicious raptures
succeed each other until the sweetest fatigue made us give way to the
soothing influence of Morpheus!
The first rays of the sun, piercing through the crevices of the
shutters, wake us out of our refreshing slumbers, and like two valorous
knights who have ceased fighting only to renew the contest with
increased ardour, we lose no time in giving ourselves up to all the
intensity of the flame which consumes us.
"Oh, my beloved Lucrezia! how supremely happy I am! But, my darling,
mind your sister; she might turn round and see us."
"Fear nothing, my life; my sister is kind, she loves me, she pities me;
do you not love me, my dear Angelique? Oh! turn round, see how happy
your sister is, and know what felicity awaits you when you own the sway
of love."
Angelique, a young maiden of seventeen summers, who must have suffered
the torments of Tantalus during the night, and who only wishes for a
pretext to shew that she has forgiven her sister, turns round, and
covering her sister with kisses, confesses that she has not closed her
eyes through the night.
"Then forgive likewise, darling Angelique, forgive him who loves me, and
whom I adore," says Lucrezia.
Unfathomable power of the god who conquers all human beings!
"Angelique hates me," I say, "I dare not...."
"No, I do not hate you!" answers the charming girl.
"Kiss her, dearest," says Lucrezia, pushing me towards her sister, and
pleased to see her in my arms motionless and languid.
But sentiment, still more than love, forbids me to deprive Lucrezia of
the proof of my gratitude, and I turn to her with all the rapture of a
beginner, feeling that my ardour is increased by Angelique's ecstasy, as
for the first time she witnesses the amorous contest. Lucrezia, dying of
enjoyment, entreats me to stop, but, as I do not listen to her prayer,
she tricks me, and the sweet Angelique makes her first sacrifice to the
mother of love. It is thus, very likely, that when the gods inhabited
this earth, the voluptuous Arcadia, in love with the soft and pleasing
breath of Zephyrus, one day opened her arms, and was fecundated.
Lucrezia was astonished and delighted, and covered us both with kisses.
Angelique, as happy as her sister, expired deliciously in my arms for
the third time, and she seconded me with so much loving ardour, that it
seemed to me I was tasting happiness for the first time.
Phoebus had left the nuptial couch, and his rays were already diffusing
light over the universe; and that light, reaching us through the closed
shutters, gave me warning to quit the place; we exchanged the most
loving adieus, I left my two divinities and retired to my own room. A
few minutes afterwards, the cheerful voice of the advocate was heard in
the chamber of the sisters; he was reproaching them for sleeping too
long! Then he knocked at my door, threatening to bring the ladies to me,
and went away, saying that he would send me the hair-dresser.
After many ablutions and a careful toilet, I thought I could skew my
face, and I presented myself coolly in the drawing-room. The two sisters
were there with the other members of our society, and I was delighted
with their rosy cheeks. Lucrezia was frank and gay, and beamed with
happiness; Angelique, as fresh as the morning dew, was more radiant than
usual, but fidgety, and carefully avoided looking me in the face. I saw
that my useless attempts to catch her eyes made her smile, and I
remarked to her mother, rather mischievously, that it was a pity
Angelique used paint for her face. She was duped by this stratagem, and
compelled me to pass a handkerchief over her face, and was then obliged
to look at me. I offered her my apologies, and Don Francisco appeared
highly pleased that the complexion of his intended had met with such
triumph.
After breakfast we took a walk through the garden, and, finding myself alone with Lucrezia, I expostulated tenderly with her for having almost thrown her sister in my arms. |
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