"I am told by the major-domo that at nine o'clock exactly a very
handsome, young abbe, whom he immediately judged to be a girl in
disguise, asked him to deliver a note to his eminence, and that the
cardinal, after reading it, had desired the said abbe be brought to his
apartment, which he has not left since. As the order to stop searching
the palace was given immediately after the introduction of the abbe to
the cardinal, it is easy enough to suppose that this ecclesiastic is no
other than the young girl missed by the police, who took refuge in the
palace in which she must have passed the whole night."
"I suppose," said I, "that his eminence will give her up to-day, if not
to the bargello, at least to the Vicar-General."
"No, not even to the Pope himself," answered Gama. "You have not yet a
right idea of the protection of our cardinal, and that protection is
evidently granted to her, since the young person is not only in the
palace of his eminence, but also in his own apartment and under his own
guardianship."
The whole affair being in itself very interesting, my attention could
not appear extraordinary to Gama, however suspicious he might be
naturally, and I was certain that he would not have told me anything if
he had guessed the share I had taken in the adventure, and the interest
I must have felt in it.
The next day, Gama came to my room with a radiant countenance, and
informed me that the Cardinal-Vicar was aware of the ravisher being my
friend, and supposed that I was likewise the friend of the girl, as she
was the daughter of my French teacher. "Everybody," he added, "is
satisfied that you knew the whole affair, and it is natural to suspect
that the poor girl spent the night in your room. I admire your prudent
reserve during our conversation of yesterday. You kept so well on your
guard that I would have sworn you knew nothing whatever of the affair."
"And it is the truth," I answered, very seriously; "I have only learned
all the circumstances from you this moment. I know the girl, but I have
not seen her for six weeks, since I gave up my French lessons; I am much
better acquainted with the young man, but he never confided his project
to me. However, people may believe whatever they please. You say that it
is natural for the girl to have passed the night in my room, but you
will not mind my laughing in the face of those who accept their own
suppositions as realities."
"That, my dear friend," said the abbe, "is one of the vices of the
Romans; happy those who can afford to laugh at it; but this slander may
do you harm, even in the mind of our cardinal."
As there was no performance at the Opera that night, I went to the
cardinal's reception; I found no difference towards me either in the
cardinal's manners, or in those of any other person, and the marchioness
was even more gracious than usual.
After dinner, on the following day, Gama informed me that the cardinal
had sent the young girl to a convent in which she would be well treated
at his eminence's expense, and that he was certain that she would leave
it only to become the wife of the young doctor.
"I should be very happy if it should turn out so," I replied; "for they
are both most estimable people."
Two days afterwards, I called upon Father Georgi, and he told me, with
an air of sorrow, that the great news of the day in Rome was the failure
of the attempt to carry off Dalacqua's daughter, and that all the honour
of the intrigue was given to me, which displeased him much. I told him
what I had already told Gama, and he appeared to believe me, but he
added that in Rome people did not want to know things as they truly
were, but only as they wished them to be.
"It is known, that you have been in the habit of going every morning to
Dalacqua's house; it is known that the young man often called on you;
that is quite enough. People do not care, to know the circumstances
which might counteract the slander, but only those, likely to give it
new force for slander is vastly relished in the Holy City. Your
innocence will not prevent the whole adventure being booked to your
account, if, in forty years time you were proposed as pope in the
conclave."
During the following days the fatal adventure began to cause me more
annoyance than I could express, for everyone mentioned it to me, and I
could see clearly that people pretended to believe what I said only
because they did not dare to do otherwise. The marchioness told me
jeeringly that the Signora Dalacqua had contracted peculiar obligations
towards me, but my sorrow was very great when, during the last days of
the carnival, I remarked that Cardinal Acquaviva's manner had become
constrained, although I was the only person who observed the change.
The noise made by the affair was, however, beginning to subside, when,
in the first days of Lent, the cardinal desired me to come to his
private room, and spoke as follows:
"The affair of the girl Dalacqua is now over; it is no longer spoken of,
but the verdict of the public is that you and I have profited by the
clumsiness of the young man who intended to carry her off. In reality I
care little for such a verdict, for, under similar circumstances, I
should always act in a similar manner, and I do not wish to know that
which no one can compel you to confess, and which, as a man of honour,
you must not admit. If you had no previous knowledge of the intrigue,
and had actually turned the girl out of your room (supposing she did
come to you), you would have been guilty of a wrong and cowardly action,
because you would have sealed her misery for the remainder of her days,
and it would not have caused you to escape the suspicion of being an
accomplice, while at the same time it would have attached to you the
odium of dastardly treachery. Notwithstanding all I have just said, you
can easily imagine that, in spite of my utter contempt for all gossiping
fools, I cannot openly defy them. I therefore feel myself compelled to
ask you not only to quit my service, but even to leave Rome. I undertake
to supply you with an honourable pretext for your departure, so as to
insure you the continuation of the respect which you may have secured
through the marks of esteem I have bestowed upon you. I promise you to
whisper in the ear of any person you may choose, and even to inform
everybody, that you are going on an important mission which I have
entrusted to you. You have only to name the country where you want to
go; I have friends everywhere, and can recommend you to such purpose
that you will be sure to find employment. My letters of recommendation
will be in my own handwriting, and nobody need know where you are going.
Meet me to-morrow at the Villa Negroni, and let me know where my letters
are to be addressed. You must be ready to start within a week. Believe
me, I am sorry to lose you; but the sacrifice is forced upon me by the
most absurd prejudice. Go now, and do not let me witness your grief."
He spoke the last words because he saw my eyes filling with tears, and
he did not give me time to answer. Before leaving his room, I had the
strength of mind to compose myself, and I put on such an air of
cheerfulness that the Abbe Gama, who took me to his room to drink some
coffee, complimented me upon my happy looks.
"I am sure," he said, "that they are caused by the conversation you have
had with his eminence."
"You are right; but you do not know the sorrow at my heart which I try
not to shew outwardly."
"What sorrow?"
"I am afraid of failing in a difficult mission which the cardinal has
entrusted me with this morning. I am compelled to conceal how little
confidence I feel in myself in order not to lessen the good opinion his
eminence is pleased to entertain of me."
"If my advice can be of any service to you, pray dispose of me; but you
are quite right to shew yourself calm and cheerful. Is it any business
to transact in Rome?"
"No; it is a journey I shall have to undertake in a week or ten days."
"Which way?"
"Towards the west."
"Oh! I am not curious to know."
I went out alone and took a walk in the Villa Borghese, where I spent
two hours wrapped in dark despair. I liked Rome, I was on the high road
to fortune, and suddenly I found myself in the abyss, without knowing
where to go, and with all my hopes scattered to the winds. I examined my
conduct, I judged myself severely, I could not find myself guilty of any
crime save of too much kindness, but I perceived how right the good
Father Georgi had been. My duty was not only to take no part in the
intrigue of the two love, but also to change my French teacher the
moment I beard of it; but this was like calling in a doctor after death
has struck the patient. Besides, young as I was, having no experience
yet of misfortune, and still less of the wickedness of society, it was
very difficult for me to have that prudence which a man gains only by
long intercourse with the world.
"Where shall I go?" This was the question which seemed to me impossible
of solution. I thought of it all through the night, and through the
morning, but I thought in vain; after Rome, I was indifferent where I
went to!
In the evening, not caring for any supper, I had gone to my room; the
Abbe Gama came to me with a request from the cardinal not to accept any
invitation to dinner for the next day, as he wanted to speak to me. I
therefore waited upon his eminence the next day at the Villa Negroni; he
was walking with his secretary, whom he dismissed the moment he saw me.
As soon as we were alone, I gave him all the particulars of the intrigue
of the two lovers, and I expressed in the most vivid manner the sorrow I
felt at leaving his service.
"I have no hope of success," I added, "for I am certain that Fortune
will smile upon me only as long as I am near your eminence."
For nearly an hour I told him all the grief with which my heart was
bursting, weeping bitterly; yet I could not move him from his decision.
Kindly, but firmly he pressed me to tell him to what part of Europe I
wanted to go, and despair as much as vexation made me name
Constantinople.
"Constantinople!" he exclaimed, moving back a step or two.
"Yes, monsignor, Constantinople," I repeated, wiping away my tears.
The prelate, a man of great wit, but a Spaniard to the very back-bone,
after remaining silent a few minutes, said, with a smile,
"I am glad you have not chosen Ispahan, as I should have felt rather
embarrassed. When do you wish to go?"
"This day week, as your eminence has ordered me."
"Do you intend to sail from Naples or from Venice?"
"From Venice."
"I will give you such a passport as will be needed, for you will find
two armies in winter-quarters in the Romagna. It strikes me that you may
tell everybody that I sent you to Constantinople, for nobody will
believe you."
This diplomatic suggestion nearly made me smile. The cardinal told me
that I should dine with him, and he left me to join his secretary.
When I returned to the palace, thinking of the choice I had made, I said
to myself, "Either I am mad, or I am obeying the impulse of a mysterious
genius which sends me to Constantinople to work out my fate." I was only
astonished that the cardinal had so readily accepted my choice. "Without
any doubt," I thought, "he did not wish me to believe that he had
boasted of more than he could achieve, in telling me that he had friends
everywhere. But to whom can he recommend me in Constantinople? I have
not the slightest idea, but to Constantinople I must go."
I dined alone with his eminence; he made a great show of peculiar
kindness and I of great satisfaction, for my self-pride, stronger even
than my sorrow, forbade me to let anyone guess that I was in disgrace.
My deepest grief was, however, to leave the marchioness, with whom I was
in love, and from whom I had not obtained any important favour.
Two days afterwards, the cardinal gave me a passport for Venice, and a
sealed letter addressed to Osman Bonneval, Pacha of Caramania, in
Constantinople. There was no need of my saying anything to anyone, but,
as the cardinal had not forbidden me to do it, I shewed the address on
the letter to all my acquaintances.
The Chevalier de Lezze, the Venetian Ambassador, gave me a letter for a
wealthy Turk, a very worthy man who had been his friend; Don Gaspar and
Father Georgi asked me to write to them, but the Abbe Gams, laughed, and
said he was quite sure I was not going to Constantinople.
I went to take my farewell of Donna Cecilia, who had just received a
letter from Lucrezia, imparting the news that she would soon be a
mother. I also called upon Angelique and Don Francisco, who had lately
been married and had not invited me to the wedding.
When I called to take Cardinal Acquaviva's final instructions he gave me
a purse containing one hundred ounces, worth seven hundred sequins. I
had three hundred more, so that my fortune amounted to one thousand
sequins; I kept two hundred, and for the rest I took a letter of
exchange upon a Ragusan who was established in Ancona. I left Rome in
the coach with a lady going to Our Lady of Loretto, to fulfil a vow made
during a severe illness of her daughter, who accompanied her. The young
lady was ugly; my journey was a rather tedious one.
CHAPTER XI
My Short But Rather Too Gay Visit To Ancona--Cecilia, Marina, Bellino--
the Greek Slave of the Lazzaretto--Bellino Discovers Himself
I arrived in Ancona on the 25th of February, 1744, and put up at the
best inn. Pleased with my room, I told mine host to prepare for me a
good meat dinner; but he answered that during Lent all good Catholics
eat nothing but fish.
"The Holy Father has granted me permission to eat meat."
"Let me see your permission."
"He gave it to me by word of mouth."
"Reverend sir, I am not obliged to believe you."
"You are a fool."
"I am master in my own house, and I beg you will go to some other inn."
Such an answer, coupled to a most unexpected notice to quit, threw me
into a violent passion. I was swearing, raving, screaming, when suddenly
a grave-looking individual made his appearance in my room, and said to
me:
"Sir, you are wrong in calling for meat, when in Ancona fish is much
better; you are wrong in expecting the landlord to believe you on your
bare word; and if you have obtained the permission from the Pope, you
have been wrong in soliciting it at your age; you have been wrong in not
asking for such permission in writing; you are wrong in calling the host
a fool, because it is a compliment that no man is likely to accept in
his own house; and, finally, you are wrong in making such an uproar."
Far from increasing my bad temper, this individual, who had entered my
room only to treat me to a sermon, made me laugh.
"I willingly plead guilty, sir," I answered, "to all the counts which
you allege against me; but it is raining, it is getting late, I am tired
and hungry, and therefore you will easily understand that I do not feel
disposed to change my quarters. Will you give me some supper, as the
landlord refuses to do so?"
"No," he replied, with great composure, "because I am a good Catholic
and fast. But I will undertake to make it all right for you with the
landlord, who will give you a good supper."
Thereupon he went downstairs, and I, comparing my hastiness to his calm,
acknowledged the man worthy of teaching me some lessons. He soon came up
again, informed me that peace was signed, and that I would be served
immediately.
"Will you not take supper with me?"
"No, but I will keep you company."
I accepted his offer, and to learn who he was, I told him my name,
giving myself the title of secretary to Cardinal Acquaviva.
"My name is Sancio Pico," he said; "I am a Castilian, and the
'proveditore' of the army of H. C. M., which is commanded by Count de
Gages under the orders of the generalissimo, the Duke of Modem."
My excellent appetite astonished him, and he enquired whether I had
dined. "No," said I; and I saw his countenance assume an air of
satisfaction.
"Are you not afraid such a supper will hurt you?" he said.
"On the contrary, I hope it will do me a great deal of good."
"Then you have deceived the Pope?"
"No, for I did not tell him that I had no appetite, but only that I
liked meat better than fish."
"If you feel disposed to hear some good music," he said a moment after,
"follow me to the next room; the prima donna of Ancona lives there."
The words prima donna interested me at once, and I followed him. I saw,
sitting before a table, a woman already somewhat advanced in age, with
two young girls and two boys, but I looked in vain for the actress, whom
Don Sancio Pico at last presented to me in the shape of one of the two
boys, who was remarkably handsome and might have been seventeen. I
thought he was a 'castrato' who, as is the custom in Rome, performed all
the parts of a prima donna. The mother presented to, me her other son,
likewise very good-looking, but more manly than the 'castrato', although
younger. His name was Petronio, and, keeping up the transformations of
the family, he was the first female dancer at the opera. The eldest
girl, who was also introduced to me, was named Cecilia, and studied
music; she was twelve years old; the youngest, called Marina, was only
eleven, and like her brother Petronio was consecrated to the worship of
Terpsichore. Both the girls were very pretty.
The family came from Bologna and lived upon the talent of its members;
cheerfulness and amiability replaced wealth with them. Bellino, such was
the name of the castrato, yielding to the entreaties of Don Sancio, rose
from the table, went to the harpsicord, and sang with the voice of an
angel and with delightful grace. The Castilian listened with his eyes
closed in an ecstasy of enjoyment, but I, far from closing my eyes,
gazed into Bellino's, which seemed to dart amorous lightnings upon me. I
could discover in him some of the features of Lucrezia and the graceful
manner of the marchioness, and everything betrayed a beautiful woman,
for his dress concealed but imperfectly the most splendid bosom. The
consequence was that, in spite of his having been introduced as a man, I
fancied that the so-called Bellino was a disguised beauty, and, my
imagination taking at once the highest flight, I became thoroughly
enamoured.
We spent two very pleasant hours, and I returned to my room accompanied
by the Castilian. "I intend to leave very early to-morrow morning," he
said, "for Sinigaglia, with the Abbe Vilmarcati, but I expect to return
for supper the day after to-morrow." I wished him a happy journey,
saying that we would most 'likely meet on the road, as I should probably
leave Ancona myself on the same day, after paying a visit to my banker.
I went to bed thinking of Bellino and of the impression he had made upon
me; I was sorry to go away without having proved to him that I was not
the dupe of his disguise. Accordingly, I was well pleased to see him
enter my room in the morning as soon as I had opened my door. He came to
offer me the services of his young brother Petronio during my stay in
Ancona, instead of my engaging a valet de place. I willingly agreed to
the proposal, and sent Petronio to get coffee for all the family.
I asked Bellino to sit on my bed with the intention of making love to
him, and of treating him like a girl, but the two young sisters ran into
my room and disturbed my plans. Yet the trio formed before me a very
pleasing sight; they represented natural beauty and artless cheerfulness
of three different kinds; unobtrusive familiarity, theatrical wit,
pleasing playfulness, and pretty Bolognese manners which I witnessed for
the first time; all this would have sufficed to cheer me if I had been
downcast. Cecilia and Marina were two sweet rosebuds, which, to bloom in
all their beauty, required only the inspiration of love, and they would
certainly have had the preference over Bellino if I had seen in him only
the miserable outcast of mankind, or rather the pitiful victim of
sacerdotal cruelty, for, in spite of their youth, the two amiable girls
offered on their dawning bosom the precious image of womanhood.
Petronio came with the coffee which he poured out, and I sent some to
the mother, who never left her room. Petronio was a true male harlot by
taste and by profession. The species is not scare in Italy, where the
offence is not regarded with the wild and ferocious intolerance of
England and Spain. I had given him one sequin to pay for the coffee, and
told him to keep the change, and, to shew me his gratitude, he gave me a
voluptuous kiss with half-open lips, supposing in me a taste which I was
very far from entertaining. I disabused him, but he did not seem the
least ashamed. I told him to order dinner for six persons, but he
remarked that he would order it only for four, as he had to keep his
dear mother company; she always took her dinner in bed. Everyone to his
taste, I thought, and I let him do as he pleased.
Two minutes after he had gone, the landlord came to my room and said,
"Reverend sir, the persons you have invited here have each the appetite
of two men at least; I give you notice of it, because I must charge
accordingly." "All right," I replied, "but let us have a good dinner."
When I was dressed, I thought I ought to pay my compliments to the
compliant mother. I went to her room, and congratulated her upon her
children. She thanked me for the present I had given to Petronio, and
began to make me the confidant of her distress. "The manager of the
theatre," she said, "is a miser who has given us only fifty Roman crowns
for the whole carnival. We have spent them for our living, and, to
return to Bologna, we shall have to walk and beg our way." Her
confidence moved my pity, so I took a gold quadruple from my purse and
offered it to her; she wept for joy and gratitude.
"I promise you another gold quadruple, madam," I said, "if you will
confide in me entirely. Confess that Bellino is a pretty woman in
disguise."
"I can assure you it is not so, although he has the appearance of a
woman."
"Not only the appearance, madam, but the tone, the manners; I am a good
judge."
"Nevertheless, he is a boy, for he has had to be examined before he
could sing on the stage here."
"And who examined him?"
"My lord bishop's chaplain."
"A chaplain?"
"Yes, and you may satisfy yourself by enquiring from him."
"The only way to clear my doubts would be to examine him myself."
"You may, if he has no objection, but truly I cannot interfere, as I do
not know what your intentions are."
"They are quite natural."
I returned to my room and sent Petronio for a bottle of Cyprus wine. He
brought the wine and seven sequins, the change for the doubloon I had
given him. I divided them between Bellino, Cecilia and Marina, and
begged the two young girls to leave me alone with their brother.
"Bellino, I am certain that your natural conformation is different from
mine; my dear, you are a girl."
"I am a man, but a castrato; I have been examined."
"Allow me to examine you likewise, and I will give you a doubloon."
"I cannot, for it is evident that you love me, and such love is
condemned by religion."
"You did not raise these objections with the bishop's chaplain."
"He was an elderly priest, and besides, he only just glanced at me."
"I will know the truth," said I, extending my hand boldly.
But he repulsed me and rose from his chair. His obstinacy vexed me, for
I had already spent fifteen or sixteen sequins to satisfy my curiosity.
I began my dinner with a very bad humour, but the excellent appetite of
my pretty guests brought me round, and I soon thought that, after all,
cheerfulness was better than sulking, and I resolved to make up for my
disappointment with the two charming sisters, who seemed well disposed
to enjoy a frolic.
I began by distributing a few innocent kisses right and left, as I sat
between them near a good fire, eating chestnuts which we wetted with
Cyprus wine. But very soon my greedy hands touched every part which my
lips could not kiss, and Cecilia, as well as Marina, delighted in the
game. Seeing that Bellino was smiling, I kissed him likewise, and his
half-open ruffle attracting my hand, I ventured and went in without
resistance. The chisel of Praxiteles had never carved a finer bosom!
"Oh! this is enough," I exclaimed; "I can no longer doubt that you are a
beautifully-formed woman!"
"It is," he replied, "the defect of all castrati."
"No, it is the perfection of all handsome women. Bellino, believe me, I
am enough of a good judge to distinguish between the deformed breast of
a castrato, and that of a beautiful woman; and your alabaster bosom
belongs to a young beauty of seventeen summers."
Who does not know that love, inflamed by all that can excite it, never
stops in young people until it is satisfied, and that one favour granted
kindles the wish for a greater one? I had begun well, I tried to go
further and to smother with burning kisses that which my hand was
pressing so ardently, but the false Bellino, as if he had only just been
aware of the illicit pleasure I was enjoying, rose and ran away. Anger
increased in me the ardour of love, and feeling the necessity of calming
myself either by satisfying my ardent desires or by evaporating them, I
begged Cecilia, Bellino's pupil, to sing a few Neapolitan airs.
I then went out to call upon the banker, from whom I took a letter of
exchange at sight upon Bologna, for the amount I had to receive from
him, and on my return, after a light supper with the two young sisters,
I prepared to go to bed, having previously instructed Petronio to order
a carriage for the morning.
I was just locking my door when Cecilia, half undressed, came in to say
that Bellino begged me to take him to Rimini, where he was engaged to
sing in an opera to be performed after Easter.
"Go and tell him, my dear little seraph, that I am ready to do what he
wishes, if he will only grant me in your presence what I desire; I want
to know for a certainty whether he is a man or a woman."
She left me and returned soon, saying that Bellino had gone to bed, but
that if I would postpone my departure for one day only he promised to
satisfy me on the morrow.
"Tell me the truth, Cecilia, and I will give you six sequins."
"I cannot earn them, for I have never seen him naked, and I cannot swear
to his being a girl. But he must be a man, otherwise he would not have
been allowed to perform here."
"Well, I will remain until the day after to-morrow, provided you keep me
company tonight."
"Do you love me very much?"
"Very much indeed, if you shew yourself very kind."
"I will be very kind, for I love you dearly likewise. I will go and tell
my mother."
"Of course you have a lover?"
"I never had one."
She left my room, and in a short time came back full of joy, saying that
her mother believed me an honest man; she of course meant a generous
one. Cecilia locked the door, and throwing herself in my arms covered me
with kisses. She was pretty, charming, but I was not in love with her,
and I was not able to say to her as to Lucrezia: "You have made me so
happy!" But she said it herself, and I did not feel much flattered,
although I pretended to believe her. When I woke up in the morning I
gave her a tender salutation, and presenting her with three doubloons,
which must have particularly delighted the mother, I sent her away
without losing my time in promising everlasting constancy--a promise as
absurd as it is trifling, and which the most virtuous man ought never to
make even to the most beautiful of women.
After breakfast I sent for mine host and ordered an excellent supper for
five persons, feeling certain that Don Sancio, whom I expected in the
evening, would not refuse to honour me by accepting my invitation, and
with that idea I made up my mind to go without my dinner. The Bolognese
family did not require to imitate my diet to insure a good appetite for
the evening.
I then summoned Bellino to my room, and claimed the performance of his
promise but he laughed, remarked that the day was not passed yet, and
said that he was certain of traveling with me.
"I fairly warn you that you cannot accompany me unless I am fully
satisfied."
"Well, I will satisfy you."
"Shall we go and take a walk together?"
"Willingly; I will dress myself."
While I was waiting for him, Marina came in with a dejected countenance,
enquiring how she had deserved my contempt.
"Cecilia has passed the night with you, Bellino will go with you to-
morrow, I am the most unfortunate of us all."
"Do you want money?"
"No, for I love you."
"But, Marinetta, you are too young."
"I am much stronger than my sister."
"Perhaps you have a lover."
"Oh! no."
"Very well, we can try this evening."
"Good! Then I will tell mother to prepare clean sheets for to-morrow
morning; otherwise everybody here would know that I slept with you."
I could not help admiring the fruits of a theatrical education, and was
much amused.
Bellino came back, we went out together, and we took our walk towards
the harbour. There were several vessels at anchor, and amongst them a
Venetian ship and a Turkish tartan. We went on board the first which we
visited with interest, but not seeing anyone of my acquaintance, we
rowed towards the Turkish tartan, where the most romantic surprise
awaited me. The first person I met on board was the beautiful Greek
woman I had left in Ancona, seven months before, when I went away from
the lazzaretto. She was seated near the old captain, of whom I enquired,
without appearing to notice his handsome slave, whether he had any fine
goods to sell. He took us to his cabin, but as I cast a glance towards
the charming Greek, she expressed by her looks all her delight at such
an unexpected meeting.
I pretended not to be pleased with the goods shewn by the Turk, and
under the impulse of inspiration I told him that I would willingly buy
something pretty which would take the fancy of his better-half. He
smiled, and the Greek slave-having whispered a few words to him, he left
the cabin. The moment he was out of sight, this new Aspasia threw
herself in my arms, saying, "Now is your time!" I would not be found
wanting in courage, and taking the most convenient position in such a
place, I did to her in one instant that which her old master had not
done in five years. I had not yet reached the goal of my wishes, when
the unfortunate girl, hearing her master, tore herself from my arms with
a deep sigh, and placing herself cunningly in front of me, gave me time
to repair the disorder of my dress, which might have cost me my life, or
at least all I possessed to compromise the affair. In that curious
situation, I was highly amused at the surprise of Bellino, who stood
there trembling like an aspen leaf.
The trifles chosen by the handsome slave cost me only thirty sequins.
'Spolaitis', she said to me in her own language, and the Turk telling
her that she ought to kiss me, she covered her face with her hands, and
ran away. I left the ship more sad than pleased, for I regretted that,
in spite of her courage, she should have enjoyed only an incomplete
pleasure. As soon as we were in our row boat, Bellino, who had recovered
from his fright, told me that I had just made him acquainted with a
phenomenon, the reality of which he could not admit, and which gave him
a very strange idea of my nature; that, as far as the Greek girl was
concerned, he could not make her out, unless I should assure him that
every woman in her country was like her. "How unhappy they must be!" he
added.
"Do you think," I asked, "that coquettes are happier?"
"No, but I think that when a woman yields to love, she should not be
conquered before she has fought with her own desires; she should not
give way to the first impulse of a lustful desire and abandon herself to
the first man who takes her fancy, like an animal--the slave of sense.
You must confess that the Greek woman has given you an evident proof
that you had taken her fancy, but that she has at the same time given
you a proof not less certain of her beastly lust, and of an effrontery
which exposed her to the shame of being repulsed, for she could not
possibly know whether you would feel as well disposed for her as she
felt for you. She is very handsome, and it all turned out well, but the
adventure has thrown me into a whirlpool of agitation which I cannot yet
control."
I might easily have put a stop to Bellino's perplexity, and rectified
the mistake he was labouring under; but such a confession would not have
ministered to my self-love, and I held my peace, for, if Bellino
happened to be a girl, as I suspected, I wanted her to be convinced that
I attached, after all, but very little importance to the great affair,
and that it was not worth while employing cunning expedients to obtain
it.
We returned to the inn, and, towards evening, hearing Don Sancio's
travelling carriage roll into the yard, I hastened to meet him, and told
him that I hoped he would excuse me if I had felt certain that he would
not refuse me the honour of his company to supper with Bellino. He
thanked me politely for the pleasure I was so delicately offering him,
and accepted my invitation.
The most exquisite dishes, the most delicious wines of Spain, and, more
than everything else, the cheerfulness and the charming voices of
Bellino and of Cecilia, gave the Castilian five delightful hours. He
left me at midnight, saying that he could not declare himself thoroughly
pleased unless I promised to sup with him the next evening with the same
guests. It would compel me to postpone my departure for another day, but
I accepted.
As soon as Don Sancio had gone, I called upon Bellino to fulfil his
promise, but he answered that Marinetta was waiting for me, and that, as
I was not going away the next day, he would find an opportunity of
satisfying my doubts; and wishing me a good night, he left the room.
Marinetta, as cheerful as a lark, ran to lock the door and came back to
me, her eyes beaming with ardour. She was more formed than Cecilia,
although one year younger, and seemed anxious to convince me of her
superiority, but, thinking that the fatigue of the preceding night might
have exhausted my strength, she unfolded all the amorous ideas of her
mind, explained at length all she knew of the great mystery she was
going to enact with me, and of all the contrivances she had had recourse
to in order to acquire her imperfect knowledge, the whole interlarded
with the foolish talk natural to her age. I made out that she was afraid
of my not finding her a maiden, and of my reproaching her about it. Her
anxiety pleased me, and I gave her a new confidence by telling her that
nature had refused to many young girls what is called maidenhood, and
that only a fool could be angry with a girl for such a reason.
My science gave her courage and confidence, and I was compelled to
acknowledge that she was very superior to her sister.
"I am delighted you find me so," she said; "we must not sleep at all
throughout the night."
"Sleep, my darling, will prove our friend, and our strength renewed by
repose will reward you in the morning for what you may suppose lost
time."
And truly, after a quiet sleep, the morning was for her a succession of
fresh triumphs, and I crowned her happiness by sending her away with
three doubloons, which she took to her mother, and which gave the good
woman an insatiable desire to contract new obligations towards
Providence.
I went out to get some money from the banker, as I did not know what
might happen during my journey. I had enjoyed myself, but I had spent
too much: yet there was Bellino who, if a girl, was not to find me less
generous than I had been with the two young sisters. It was to be
decided during the day, and I fancied that I was sure of the result.
There are some persons who pretend that life is only a succession of
misfortunes, which is as much as to say that life itself is a
misfortune; but if life is a misfortune, death must be exactly the
reverse and therefore death must be happiness, since death is the very
reverse of life. That deduction may appear too finely drawn. But those
who say that life is a succession of misfortunes are certainly either
ill or poor; for, if they enjoyed good health, if they had cheerfulness
in their heart and money in their purse, if they had for their enjoyment
a Cecilia, a Marinetta, and even a more lovely beauty in perspective,
they would soon entertain a very different opinion of life! I hold them
to be a race of pessimists, recruited amongst beggarly philosophers and
knavish, atrabilious theologians. If pleasure does exist, and if life is
necessary to enjoy pleasure, then life is happiness. There are
misfortunes, as I know by experience; but the very existence of such
misfortunes proves that the sum-total of happiness is greater. Because a
few thorns are to be found in a basket full of roses, is the existence
of those beautiful flowers to be denied? No; it is a slander to deny that life is happiness. When I am in a dark room, it pleases me greatly to see through a window an immense horizon before me. |
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