As supper-time was drawing near, I went to Don Sancio, whom I found in
magnificently-furnished apartments. The table was loaded with silver
plate, and his servants were in livery. He was alone, but all his guests
arrived soon after me--Cecilia, Marina, and Bellino, who, either by
caprice or from taste, was dressed as a woman. The two young sisters,
prettily arranged, looked charming, but Bellino, in his female costume,
so completely threw them into the shade, that my last doubt vanished.
"Are you satisfied," I said to Don Sancio, "that Bellino is a woman?"
"Woman or man, what do I care! I think he is a very pretty 'castrato',
and 'I have seen many as good-looking as he is."
"But are you sure he is a 'castrato'?"
"'Valgame Dios'!" answered the grave Castilian, "I have not the
slightest wish to ascertain the truth."
Oh, how widely different our thoughts were! I admired in him the wisdom
of which I was so much in need, and did not venture upon any more
indiscreet questions. During the supper, however, my greedy eyes could
not leave that charming being; my vicious nature caused me to feel
intense voluptuousness in believing him to be of that sex to which I
wanted him to belong.
Don Sancio's supper was excellent, and, as a matter of course, superior
to mine; otherwise the pride of the Castilian would have felt humbled.
As a general rule, men are not satisfied with what is good; they want
the best, or, to speak more to the point, the most. He gave us white
truffles, several sorts of shell-fish, the best fish of the Adriatic,
dry champagne, peralta, sherry and pedroximenes wines.
After that supper worthy of Lucullus, Bellino sang with a voice of such
beauty that it deprived us of the small amount of reason left in us by
the excellent wine. His movements, the expression of his looks, his
gait, his walk, his countenance, his voice, and, above all, my own
instinct, which told me that I could not possibly feel for a castrato
what I felt for Bellino, confirmed me in my hopes; yet it was necessary
that my eyes should ascertain the truth.
After many compliments and a thousand thanks, we took leave of the grand
Spaniard, and went to my room, where the mystery was at last to be
unravelled. I called upon Bellino to keep his word, or I threatened to
leave him alone the next morning at day-break.
I took him by the hand, and we seated ourselves near the fire. I
dismissed Cecilia and Marina, and I said to him,
"Bellino, everything must have an end; you have promised: it will soon
be over. If you are what you represent yourself to be, I will let you go
back to your own room; if you are what I believe you to be, and if you
consent to remain with me to-night, I will give you one hundred sequins,
and we will start together tomorrow morning."
"You must go alone, and forgive me if I cannot fulfil my promise. I am
what I told you, and I can neither reconcile myself to the idea of
exposing my shame before you, nor lay myself open to the terrible
consequences that might follow the solution of your doubts."
"There can be no consequences, since there will be an end to it at the
moment I have assured myself that you are unfortunate enough to be what
you say, and without ever mentioning the circumstances again, I promise
to take you with me to-morrow and to leave you at Rimini."
"No, my mind is made up; I cannot satisfy your curiosity."
Driven to madness by his words, I was very near using violence, but
subduing my angry feelings, I endeavored to succeed by gentle means and
by going straight to the spot where the mystery could be solved. I was
very near it, when his hand opposed a very strong resistance. I repeated
my efforts, but Bellino, rising suddenly, repulsed me, and I found
myself undone. After a few moments of calm, thinking I should take him
by surprise, I extended my hand, but I drew back terrified, for I
fancied that I had recognized in him a man, and a degraded man,
contemptible less on account of his degradation than for the want of
feeling I thought I could read on his countenance. Disgusted, confused,
and almost blushing for myself, I sent him away.
His sisters came to my room, but I dismissed them, sending word to their
brother that he might go with me, without any fear of further
indiscretion on my part. Yet, in spite of the conviction I thought I had
acquired, Bellino, even such as I believe him to be, filled my thoughts;
I could not make it out.
Early the next morning I left Ancona with him, distracted by the tears
of the two charming sisters and loaded with the blessings of the mother
who, with beads in hand, mumbled her 'paternoster', and repeated her
constant theme: 'Dio provedera'.
The trust placed in Providence by most of those persons who earn their
living by some profession forbidden by religion is neither absurd, nor
false, nor deceitful; it is real and even godly, for it flows from an
excellent source. Whatever may be the ways of Providence, human beings
must always acknowledge it in its action, and those who call upon
Providence independently of all external consideration must, at the
bottom, be worthy, although guilty of transgressing its laws.
'Pulchra Laverna, Da mihi fallere; da justo sanctoque videri; Noctem
peccatis, et fraudibus objice nubem.'
Such was the way in which, in the days of Horace, robbers addressed
their goddess, and I recollect a Jesuit who told me once that Horace
would not have known his own language, if he had said justo sanctoque:
but there were ignorant men even amongst the Jesuits, and robbers most
likely have but little respect for the rules of grammar.
The next morning I started with Bellino, who, believing me to be
undeceived, could suppose that I would not shew any more curiosity about
him, but we had not been a quarter of an hour together when he found out
his mistake, for I could not let my looks fall upon his splendid eyes
without feeling in me a fire which the sight of a man could not have
ignited. I told him that all his features were those of a woman, and
that I wanted the testimony of my eyes before I could feel perfectly
satisfied, because the protuberance I had felt in a certain place might
be only a freak of nature. "Should it be the case," I added, "I should
have no difficulty in passing over a deformity which, in reality, is
only laughable. Bellino, the impression you produce upon me, this sort
of magnetism, your bosom worthy of Venus herself, which you have once
abandoned to my eager hand, the sound of your voice, every movement of
yours, assure me that you do not belong to my sex. Let me see for
myself, and, if my conjectures are right, depend upon my faithful love;
if, on the contrary, I find that I have been mistaken, you can rely upon
my friendship. If you refuse me, I shall be compelled to believe that
you are cruelly enjoying my misery, and that you have learned in the
most accursed school that the best way of preventing a young man from
curing himself of an amorous passion is to excite it constantly; but you
must agree with me that, to put such tyranny in practice, it is
necessary to hate the person it is practised upon, and, if that be so, I
ought to call upon my reason to give me the strength necessary to hate
you likewise."
I went on speaking for a long time; Bellino did not answer, but he
seemed deeply moved. At last I told him that, in the fearful state to
which I was reduced by his resistance, I should be compelled to treat
him without any regard for his feelings, and find out the truth by
force. He answered with much warmth and dignity: "Recollect that you are
not my master, that I am in your hands, because I had faith in your
promise, and that, if you use violence, you will be guilty of murder.
Order the postillion to stop, I will get out of the carriage, and you
may rely upon my not complaining of your treatment."
Those few words were followed by a torrent of tears, a sight which I
never could resist. I felt myself moved in the inmost recesses of my
soul, and I almost thought that I had been wrong. I say almost, because,
had I been convinced of it, I would have thrown myself at his feet
entreating pardon; but, not feeling myself competent to stand in
judgment in my own cause, I satisfied myself by remaining dull and
silent, and I never uttered one word until we were only half a mile from
Sinigaglia, where I intended to take supper and to remain for the night.
Having fought long enough with my own feelings, I said to him;
"We might have spent a little time in Rimini like good friends, if you
had felt any friendship for me, for, with a little kind compliance, you
could have easily cured me of my passion."
"It would not cure you," answered Bellino, courageously, but with a
sweetness of tone which surprised me; "no, you would not be cured,
whether you found me to be man or woman, for you are in love with me
independently of my sex, and the certainty you would acquire would make
you furious. In such a state, should you find me inexorable, you would
very likely give way to excesses which would afterwards cause you deep
sorrow."
"You expect to make me admit that you are right, but you are completely
mistaken, for I feel that I should remain perfectly calm, and that by
complying with my wishes you would gain my friendship."
"I tell you again that you would become furious."
"Bellino, that which has made me furious is the sight of your charms,
either too real or too completely deceiving, the power of which you
cannot affect to ignore. You have not been afraid to ignite my amorous
fury, how can you expect me to believe you now, when you pretend to fear
it, and when I am only asking you to let me touch a thing, which, if it
be as you say, will only disgust me?"
"Ah! disgust you; I am quite certain of the contrary. Listen to me. Were
I a girl, I feel I could not resist loving you, but, being a man, it is
my duty not to grant what you desire, for your passion, now very
natural, would then become monstrous. Your ardent nature would be
stronger than your reason, and your reason itself would easily come to
the assistance of your senses and of your nature. That violent clearing-
up of the mystery, were you to obtain it, would leave you deprived of
all control over yourself. Disappointed in not finding what you had
expected, you would satisfy your passion upon that which you would find,
and the result would, of course, be an abomination. How can you,
intelligent as you are, flatter yourself that, finding me to be a man,
you could all at once cease to love me? Would the charms which you now
see in me cease to exist then? Perhaps their power would, on the
contrary, be enhanced, and your passion, becoming brutal, would lead you
to take any means your imagination suggested to gratify it. You would
persuade yourself that you might change me into a woman, or, what is
worse, that you might change yourself into one. Your passion would
invent a thousand sophisms to justify your love, decorated with the fine
appellation of friendship, and you would not fail to allege hundreds of
similarly disgusting cases in order to excuse your conduct. You would
certainly never find me compliant; and how am I to know that you would
not threaten me with death?"
"Nothing of the sort would happen, Bellino," I answered, rather tired of
the length of his argument, "positively nothing, and I am sure you are
exaggerating your fears. Yet I am bound to tell you that, even if all
you say should happen, it seems to me that to allow what can strictly be
considered only as a temporary fit of insanity, would prove a less evil
than to render incurable a disease of the mind which reason would soon
cut short."
Thus does a poor philosopher reason when he takes it into his head to
argue at those periods during which a passion raging in his soul makes
all its faculties wander. To reason well, we must be under the sway
neither of love nor of anger, for those two passions have one thing in
common which is that, in their excess, they lower us to the condition of
brutes acting only under the influence of their predominating instinct,
and, unfortunately, we are never more disposed to argue than when we
feel ourselves under the influence of either of those two powerful human
passions.
We arrived at Sinigaglia late at night, and I went to the best inn, and,
after choosing a comfortable room, ordered supper. As there was but one
bed in the room, I asked Bellino, in as calm a tone as I could assume,
whether he would have a fire lighted in another chamber, and my surprise
may be imagined when he answered quietly that he had no objection to
sleep in the same bed with me. Such an answer, however, unexpected, was
necessary to dispel the angry feelings under which I was labouring. I
guessed that I was near the denouement of the romance, but I was very
far from congratulating myself, for I did not know whether the
denouement would prove agreeable or not. I felt, however, a real
satisfaction at having conquered, and was sure of my self-control, in
case the senses, my natural instinct, led me astray. But if I found
myself in the right, I thought I could expect the most precious favours.
We sat down to supper opposite each other, and during the meal, his
words, his countenance, the expression of his beautiful eyes, his sweet
and voluptuous smile, everything seemed to announce that he had had
enough of playing a part which must have proved as painful to him as to
me.
A weight was lifted off my mind, and I managed to shorten the supper as
much as possible. As soon as we had left the table, my amiable companion
called for a night-lamp, undressed himself, and went to bed. I was not
long in following him, and the reader will soon know the nature of a
denouement so long and so ardently desired; in the mean time I beg to
wish him as happy a night as the one which was then awaiting me.
CHAPTER XII
Bellino's History--I Am Put Under Arrest--I Run Away Against My Will--My
Return To Rimini, and My Arrival In Bologna
Dear reader, I said enough at the end of the last chapter to make you
guess what happened, but no language would be powerful enough to make
you realize all the voluptuousness which that charming being had in
store for me. She came close to me the moment I was in bed. Without
uttering one word our lips met, and I found myself in the ecstasy of
enjoyment before I had had time to seek for it. After so complete a
victory, what would my eyes and my fingers have gained from
investigations which could not give me more certainty than I had already
obtained? I could not take my gaze off that beautiful face, which was
all aflame with the ardour of love.
After a moment of quiet rapture, a spark lighted up in our veins a fresh
conflagration which we drowned in a sea of new delights. Bellino felt
bound to make me forget my sufferings, and to reward me by an ardour
equal to the fire kindled by her charms.
The happiness I gave her increased mine twofold, for it has always been
my weakness to compose the four-fifths of my enjoyment from the sum-
total of the happiness which I gave the charming being from whom I
derived it. But such a feeling must necessarily cause hatred for old age
which can still receive pleasure, but can no longer give enjoyment to
another. And youth runs away from old age, because it is its most cruel
enemy.
An interval of repose became necessary, in consequence of the activity
of our enjoyment. Our senses were not tired out, but they required the
rest which renews their sensitiveness and restores the buoyancy
necessary to active service.
Bellino was the first to break our silence.
"Dearest," she said, "are you satisfied now? Have you found me truly
loving?"
"Truly loving? Ah! traitress that you are! Do you, then, confess that I
was not mistaken when I guessed that you were a charming woman? And if
you truly loved me, tell me how you could contrive to defer your
happiness and mine so long? But is it quite certain that I did not make
a mistake?"
"I am yours all over; see for yourself."
Oh, what delightful survey! what charming beauties! what an ocean of
enjoyment! But I could not find any trace of the protuberance which had
so much terrified and disgusted me.
"What has become," I said, "of that dreadful monstrosity?"
"Listen to me," she replied, "and I will tell you everything.
"My name is Therese. My father, a poor clerk in the Institute of
Bologna, had let an apartment in his house to the celebrated Salimberi,
a castrato, and a delightful musician. He was young and handsome, he
became attached to me, and I felt flattered by his affection and by the
praise he lavished upon me. I was only twelve years of age; he proposed
to teach me music, and finding that I had a fine voice, he cultivated it
carefully, and in less than a year I could accompany myself on the
harpsichord. His reward was that which his love for me induced him to
ask, and I granted the reward without feeling any humiliation, for I
worshipped him. Of course, men like yourself are much above men of his
species, but Salimberi was an exception. His beauty, his manners, his
talent, and the rare qualities of his soul, made him superior in my eyes
to all the men I had seen until then. He was modest and reserved, rich
and generous, and I doubt whether he could have found a woman able to
resist him; yet I never heard him boast of having seduced any. The
mutilation practised upon his body had made him a monster, but he was an
angel by his rare qualities and endowments.
"Salimberi was at that time educating a boy of the same age as myself,
who was in Rimini with a music teacher. The father of the boy, who was
poor and had a large family, seeing himself near death, had thought of
having his unfortunate son maimed so that he should become the support
of his brothers with his voice. The name of the boy was Bellino; the
good woman whom you have just seen in Ancona was his mother, and
everybody believes that she is mine.
"I had belonged to Salimberi for about a year, when he announced to me
one day, weeping bitterly, that he was compelled to leave me to go to
Rome, but he promised to see me again. The news threw me into despair.
He had arranged everything for the continuation of my musical education,
but, as he was preparing himself for his departure, my father died very
suddenly, after a short illness, and I was left an orphan.
"Salimberi had not courage enough to resist my tears and my entreaties;
he made up his mind to take me to Rimini, and to place me in the same
house where his young 'protege' was educated. We reached Rimini, and put
up at an inn; after a short rest, Salimberi left me to call upon the
teacher of music, and to make all necessary arrangements respecting me
with him; but he soon returned, looking sad and unhappy; Bellino had
died the day before.
"As he was thinking of the grief which the loss of the young man would
cause his mother, he was struck with the idea of bringing me back to
Bologna under the name of Bellino, where he could arrange for my board
with the mother of the deceased Bellino, who, being very poor, would
find it to her advantage to keep the secret. 'I will give her,' he said,
'everything necessary for the completion of your musical education, and
in four years, I will take you to Dresden (he was in the service of the
Elector of Saxony, King of Poland), not as a girl, but as a castrato.
There we will live together without giving anyone cause for scandal, and
you will remain with me and minister to my happiness until I die. All we
have to do is to represent you as Bellino, and it is very easy, as
nobody knows you in Bologna. Bellino's mother will alone know the
secret; her other children have seen their brother only when he was very
young, and can have no suspicion. But if you love me you must renounce
your sex, lose even the remembrance of it, and leave immediately for
Bologna, dressed as a boy, and under the name of Bellino. You must be
very careful lest anyone should find out that you are a girl; you must
sleep alone, dress yourself in private, and when your bosom is formed,
as it will be in a year or two, it will only be thought a deformity not
uncommon amongst 'castrati'. Besides, before leaving you, I will give
you a small instrument, and teach how to fix it in such manner that, if
you had at any time to submit to an examination, you would easily be
mistaken for a man. If you accept my plan, I feel certain that we can
live together in Dresden without losing the good graces of the queen,
who is very religious. Tell me, now, whether you will accept my
proposal?
"He could not entertain any doubt of my consent, for I adored him. As
soon as he had made a boy of me we left Rimini for Bologna, where we
arrived late in the evening. A little gold made everything right with
Bellino's mother; I gave her the name of mother, and she kissed me,
calling me her dear son. Salimberi left us, and returned a short time
afterwards with the instrument which would complete my transformation.
He taught me, in the presence of my new mother, how to fix it with some
tragacanth gum, and I found myself exactly like my friend. I would have
laughed at it, had not my heart been deeply grieved at the departure of
my beloved Salimberi, for he bade me farewell as soon as the curious
operation was completed. People laugh at forebodings; I do not believe
in them myself, but the foreboding of evil, which almost broke my heart
as he gave me his farewell kiss, did not deceive me. I felt the cold
shivering of death run through me; I felt I was looking at him for the
last time, and I fainted away. Alas! my fears proved only too prophetic.
Salimberi died a year ago in the Tyrol in the prime of life, with the
calmness of a true philosopher. His death compelled me to earn my living
with the assistance of my musical talent. My mother advised me to
continue to give myself out as a castrato, in the hope of being able to
take me to Rome. I agreed to do so, for I did not feel sufficient energy
to decide upon any other plan. In the meantime she accepted an offer for
the Ancona Theatre, and Petronio took the part of first female dancer;
in this way we played the comedy of 'The World Turned Upside Down.'
"After Salimberi, you are the only man I have known, and, if you like,
you can restore me to my original state, and make me give up the name of
Bellino, which I hate since the death of my protector, and which begins
to inconvenience me. I have only appeared at two theatres, and each time
I have been compelled to submit to the scandalous, degrading
examination, because everywhere I am thought to have too much the
appearance of a girl, and I am admitted only after the shameful test has
brought conviction. Until now, fortunately, I have had to deal only with
old priests who, in their good faith, have been satisfied with a very
slight examination, and have made a favourable report to the bishop; but
I might fall into the hands of some young abbe, and the test would then
become a more severe one. Besides, I find myself exposed to the daily
persecutions of two sorts of beings: those who, like you, cannot and
will not believe me to be a man, and those who, for the satisfaction of
their disgusting propensities, are delighted at my being so, or find it
advantageous to suppose me so. The last particularly annoy me! Their
tastes are so infamous, their habits so low, that I fear I shall murder
one of them some day, when I can no longer control the rage in which
their obscene language throws me. Out of pity, my beloved angel, be
generous; and, if you love me, oh! free me from this state of shame and
degradation! Take me with you. I do not ask to become your wife, that
would be too much happiness; I will only be your friend, your mistress,
as I would have been Salimberi's; my heart is pure and innocent, I feel
that I can remain faithful to my lover through my whole life. Do not
abandon me. The love I have for you is sincere; my affection for
Salimberi was innocent; it was born of my inexperience and of my
gratitude, and it is only with you that I have felt myself truly a
woman."
Her emotion, an inexpressible charm which seemed to flow from her lips
and to enforce conviction, made me shed tears of love and sympathy. I
blended my tears with those falling from her beautiful eyes, and deeply
moved, I promised not to abandon her and to make her the sharer of my
fate. Interested in the history, as singular as extraordinary, that she
had just narrated, and having seen nothing in it that did not bear the
stamp of truth, I felt really disposed to make her happy but I could not
believe that I had inspired her with a very deep passion during my short
stay in Ancona, many circumstances of which might, on the contrary, have
had an opposite effect upon her heart.
"If you loved me truly," I said, "how could you let me sleep with your
sisters, out of spite at your resistance?"
"Alas, dearest! think of our great poverty, and how difficult it was for
me to discover myself. I loved you; but was it not natural that I should
suppose your inclination for me only a passing caprice? When I saw you
go so easily from Cecilia to Marinetta, I thought that you would treat
me in the same manner as soon as your desires were satisfied, I was
likewise confirmed in my opinion of your want of constancy and of the
little importance you attached to the delicacy of the sentiment of love,
when I witnessed what you did on board the Turkish vessel without being
hindered by my presence; had you loved me, I thought my being present
would have made you uncomfortable. I feared to be soon despised, and God
knows how much I suffered! You have insulted me, darling, in many
different ways, but my heart pleaded in your favour, because I knew you
were excited, angry, and thirsting for revenge. Did you not threaten me
this very day in your carriage? I confess you greatly frightened me, but
do not fancy that I gave myself to you out of fear. No, I had made up my
mind to be yours from the moment you sent me word by Cecilia that you
would take me to Rimini, and your control over your own feelings during
a part of our journey confirmed me in my resolution, for I thought I
could trust myself to your honour, to your delicacy."
"Throw up," I said, "the engagement you have in Rimini; let us proceed
on our journey, and, after remaining a couple of days in Bologna, you
will go with me to Venice; dressed as a woman, and with another name, I
would challenge the manager here to find you out."
"I accept. Your will shall always be my law. I am my own mistress, and I
give myself to you without any reserve or restriction; my heart belongs
to you, and I trust to keep yours."
Man has in himself a moral force of action which always makes him
overstep the line on which he is standing. I had obtained everything, I
wanted more. "Shew me," I said, "how you were when I mistook you for a
man." She got out of bed, opened her trunk, took out the instrument and
fixed it with the gum: I was compelled to admire the ingenuity of the
contrivance. My curiosity was satisfied, and I passed a most delightful
night in her arms.
When I woke up in the morning, I admired her lovely face while she was
sleeping: all I knew of her came back to my mind; the words which had
been spoken by her bewitching mouth, her rare talent, her candour, her
feelings so full of delicacy, and her misfortunes, the heaviest of which
must have been the false character she had been compelled to assume, and
which exposed her to humiliation and shame, everything strengthened my
resolution to make her the companion of my destiny, whatever it might
be, or to follow her fate, for our positions were very nearly the same;
and wishing truly to attach myself seriously to that interesting being,
I determined to give to our union the sanction of religion and of law,
and to take her legally for my wife. Such a step, as I then thought,
could but strengthen our love, increase our mutual esteem, and insure
the approbation of society which could not accept our union unless it
was sanctioned in the usual manner.
The talents of Therese precluded the fear of our being ever in want of
the necessaries of life, and, although I did not know in what way my own
talents might be made available, I had faith in myself. Our love might
have been lessened, she would have enjoyed too great advantages over me,
and my self-dignity would have too deeply suffered if I had allowed
myself to be supported by her earnings only. It might, after a time,
have altered the nature of our feelings; my wife, no longer thinking
herself under any obligation to me, might have fancied herself the
protecting, instead of the protected party, and I felt that my love
would soon have turned into utter contempt, if it had been my misfortune
to find her harbouring such thoughts. Although I trusted it would not be
so, I wanted, before taking the important step of marriage, to probe her
heart, and I resolved to try an experiment which would at once enable me
to judge the real feelings of her inmost soul. As soon as she was awake,
I spoke to her thus:
"Dearest Therese, all you have told me leaves me no doubt of your love
for me, and the consciousness you feel of being the mistress of my heart
enhances my love for you to such a degree, that I am ready to do
everything to convince you that you were not mistaken in thinking that
you had entirely conquered me. I wish to prove to you that I am worthy
of the noble confidence you have reposed in me by trusting you with
equal sincerity.
"Our hearts must be on a footing of perfect equality. I know you, my
dearest Therese, but you do not know me yet. I can read in your eyes
that you do not mind it, and it proves our great love, but that feeling
places me too much below you, and I do not wish you to have so great an
advantage over me. I feel certain that my confidence is not necessary to
your love; that you only care to be mine, that your only wish is to
possess my heart, and I admire you, my Therese; but I should feel
humiliated if I found myself either too much above or too much below
you. You have entrusted your secrets to me, now listen to mine; but
before I begin, promise me that, when you know everything that concerns
me, you will tell me candidly if any change has taken place either in
your feelings or in your hopes."
"I promise it faithfully; I promise not to conceal anything from you;
but be upright enough not to tell me anything that is not perfectly
true, for I warn you that it would be useless. If you tried any artifice
in order to find me less worthy of you than I am in reality, you would
only succeed in lowering yourself in my estimation. I should be very
sorry to see you guilty of any cunning towards me. Have no more
suspicion of me than I have of you; tell me the whole truth."
"Here it is. You suppose me wealthy, and I am not so; as soon as what
there is now in my purse is spent I shall have nothing left. You may
fancy that I was born a patrician, but my social condition is really
inferior to your own. I have no lucrative talents, no profession,
nothing to give me the assurance that I am able to earn my living. I
have neither relatives nor friends, nor claims upon anyone, and I have
no serious plan or purpose before me. All I possess is youth, health,
courage, some intelligence, honour, honesty, and some tincture of
letters. My greatest treasure consists in being my own master, perfectly
independent, and not afraid of misfortune. With all that, I am naturally
inclined to extravagance. Lovely Therese, you have my portrait. What is
your answer?"
"In the first place, dearest, let me assure you that I believe every
word you have just uttered, as I would believe in the Gospel; in the
second, allow me to tell you that several times in Ancona I have judged
you such as you have just described yourself, but far from being
displeased at such a knowledge of your nature, I was only afraid of some
illusion on my part, for I could hope to win you if you were what I
thought you to be. In one word, dear one, if it is true that you are
poor and a very bad hand at economy, allow me to tell you that I feel
delighted, because, if you love me, you will not refuse a present from
me, or despise me for offering it. The present consists of myself, such
as I am, and with all my faculties. I give myself to you without any
condition, with no restriction; I am yours, I will take care of you. For
the future think only of your love for me, but love me exclusively. From
this moment I am no longer Bellino. Let us go to Venice, where my talent
will keep us both comfortably; if you wish to go anywhere else, let us
go where you please."
"I must go to Constantinople."
"Then let us proceed to Constantinople. If you are afraid to lose me
through want of constancy, marry me, and your right over me will be
strengthened by law. I should not love you better than I do now, but I
should be happy to be your wife."
"It is my intention to marry you, and I am delighted that we agree in
that respect. The day after to-morrow, in Bologna, you shall be made my
legal-wife before the altar of God; I swear it to you here in the
presence of Love. I want you to be mine, I want to be yours, I want us
to be united by the most holy ties."
"I am the happiest of women! We have nothing to do in Rimini; suppose we
do not get up; we can have our dinner in bed, and go away to-morrow well
rested after our fatigues."
We left Rimini the next day, and stayed for breakfast at Pesaro. As we
were getting into the carriage to leave that place, an officer,
accompanied by two soldiers, presented himself, enquired for our names,
and demanded our passports. Bellino had one and gave it, but I looked in
vain for mine; I could not find it.
The officer, a corporal, orders the postillion to wait and goes to make
his report. Half an hour afterwards, he returns, gives Bellino his
passport, saying that he can continue his journey, but tells me that his
orders are to escort me to the commanding officer, and I follow him.
"What have you done with your passport?" enquires that officer.
"I have lost it."
"A passport is not so easily lost."
"Well, I have lost mine."
"You cannot proceed any further."
"I come from Rome, and I am going to Constantinople, bearing a letter
from Cardinal Acquaviva. Here is the letter stamped with his seal."
"All I can do for you is to send you to M. de Gages."
I found the famous general standing, surrounded by his staff. I told him
all I had already explained to the officer, and begged him to let me
continue my journey.
"The only favour I can grant you is to put you under arrest till you
receive another passport from Rome delivered under the same name as the
one you have given here. To lose a passport is a misfortune which
befalls only a thoughtless, giddy man, and the cardinal will for the
future know better than to put his confidence in a giddy fellow like
you."
With these words, he gave orders to take me to the guard-house at St.
Mary's Gate, outside the city, as soon as I should have written to the
cardinal for a new passport. His orders were executed. I was brought
back to the inn, where I wrote my letter, and I sent it by express to
his eminence, entreating him to forward the document, without loss of
time, direct to the war office. Then I embraced Therese who was weeping,
and, telling her to go to Rimini and to wait there for my return, I made
her take one hundred sequins. She wished to remain in Pesaro, but I
would not hear of it; I had my trunk brought out, I saw Therese go away
from the inn, and was taken to the place appointed by the general.
It is undoubtedly under such circumstances that the most determined
optimist finds himself at a loss; but an easy stoicism can blunt the too
sharp edge of misfortune.
My greatest sorrow was the heart-grief of Therese who, seeing me torn
from her arms at the very moment of our union, was suffocated by the
tears which she tried to repress. She would not have left me if I had
not made her understand that she could not remain in Pesaro, and if I
had not promised to join her within ten days, never to be parted again.
But fate had decided otherwise.
When we reached the gate, the officer confined me immediately in the
guard-house, and I sat down on my trunk. The officer was a taciturn
Spaniard who did not even condescend to honour me with an answer, when I
told him that I had money and would like to have someone to wait on me.
I had to pass the night on a little straw, and without food, in the
midst of the Spanish soldiers. It was the second night of the sort that
my destiny had condemned me to, immediately after two delightful nights.
My good angel doubtless found some pleasure in bringing such
conjunctions before my mind for the benefit of my instruction. At all
events, teachings of that description have an infallible effect upon
natures of a peculiar stamp.
If you should wish to close the lips of a logician calling himself a
philosopher, who dares to argue that in this life grief overbalances
pleasure, ask him whether he would accept a life entirely without sorrow
and happiness. Be certain that he will not answer you, or he will
shuffle, because, if he says no, he proves that he likes life such as it
is, and if he likes it, he must find it agreeable, which is an utter
impossibility, if life is painful; should he, on the contrary, answer in
the affirmative, he would declare himself a fool, for it would be as
much as to say that he can conceive pleasure arising from indifference,
which is absurd nonsense.
Suffering is inherent in human nature; but we never suffer without
entertaining the hope of recovery, or, at least, very seldom without
such hope, and hope itself is a pleasure. If it happens sometimes that
man suffers without any expectation of a cure, he necessarily finds
pleasure in the complete certainty of the end of his life; for the
worst, in all cases, must be either a sleep arising from extreme
dejection, during which we have the consolation of happy dreams or the
loss of all sensitiveness. But when we are happy, our happiness is never
disturbed by the thought that it will be followed by grief. Therefore
pleasure, during its active period, is always complete, without alloy;
grief is always soothed by hope.
I suppose you, dear reader, at the age of twenty, and devoting yourself
to the task of making a man of yourself by furnishing your mind with all
the knowledge necessary to render you a useful being through the
activity of your brain. Someone comes in and tells you, "I bring you
thirty years of existence; it is the immutable decree of fate; fifteen
consecutive years must be happy, and fifteen years unhappy. You are at
liberty to choose the half by which you wish to begin."
Confess it candidly, dear reader, you will not require much more
consideration to decide, and you will certainly begin by the unhappy
series of years, because you will feel that the expectation of fifteen
delightful years cannot fail to brace you up with the courage necessary
to bear the unfortunate years you have to go through, and we can even
surmise, with every probability of being right, that the certainty of
future happiness will soothe to a considerable extent the misery of the
first period.
You have already guessed, I have no doubt, the purpose of this lengthy
argument. The sagacious man, believe me, can never be utterly miserable,
and I most willingly agree with my friend Horace, who says that, on the
contrary, such a man is always happy.
'Nisi quum pituita molesta est.'
But, pray where is the man who is always suffering from a rheum?
The fact is that the fearful night I passed in the guardhouse of St.
Mary resulted for me in a slight loss and in a great gain. The small
loss was to be away from my dear Therese, but, being certain of seeing
her within ten days, the misfortune was not very great: as to the gain,
it was in experience the true school for a man. I gained a complete
system against thoughtlessness, a system of foresight. You may safely
bet a hundred to one that a young man who has once lost his purse or his
passport, will not lose either a second time. Each of those misfortunes
has befallen me once only, and I might have been very often the victim
of them, if experience had not taught me how much they were to be
dreaded. A thoughtless fellow is a man who has not yet found the word
dread in the dictionary of his life.
The officer who relieved my cross-grained Castilian on the following day
seemed of a different nature altogether; his prepossessing countenance
pleased me much. He was a Frenchman, and I must say that I have always
liked the French, and never the Spaniards; there is in the manners of
the first something so engaging, so obliging, that you feel attracted
towards them as towards a friend, whilst an air of unbecoming
haughtiness gives to the second a dark, forbidding countenance which
certainly does not prepossess in their favour. Yet I have often been
duped by Frenchmen, and never by Spaniards--a proof that we ought to
mistrust our tastes.
The new officer, approaching me very politely, said to me,--
"To what chance, reverend sir, am I indebted for the honour of having
you in my custody?"
Ah! here was a way of speaking which restored to my lungs all their
elasticity! I gave him all the particulars of my misfortune, and he
found the mishap very amusing. But a man disposed to laugh at my
disappointment could not be disagreeable to me, for it proved that the
turn of his mind had more than one point of resemblance with mine. He
gave me at once a soldier to serve me, and I had very quickly a bed, a
table, and a few chairs. He was kind enough to have my bed placed in his
own room, and I felt very grateful to him for that delicate attention.
He gave me an invitation to share his dinner, and proposed a game of
piquet afterwards, but from the very beginning he saw that I was no
match for him; he told me so, and he warned me that the officer who
would relieve him the next day was a better player even than he was
himself; I lost three or four ducats. He advised me to abstain from
playing on the following day, and I followed his advice. He told me also
that he would have company to supper, that there would be a game of
faro, but that the banker being a Greek and a crafty player, I ought not
to play. I thought his advice very considerate, particularly when I saw
that all the punters lost, and that the Greek, very calm in the midst of
the insulting treatment of those he had duped, was pocketing his money,
after handing a share to the officer who had taken an interest in the
bank. The name of the banker was Don Pepe il Cadetto, and by his accent
I knew he was a Neapolitan. I communicated my discovery to the officer,
asking him why he had told me that the man was a Greek. He explained to
me the meaning of the word greek applied to a gambler, and the lesson
which followed his explanation proved very useful to me in after years.
During the five following days, my life was uniform and rather dull, but
on the sixth day the same French officer was on guard, and I was very
glad to see him. He told me, with a hearty laugh, that he was delighted
to find me still in the guard-house, and I accepted the compliment for
what it was worth. In the evening, we had the same bank at faro, with
the same result as the first time, except a violent blow from the stick
of one of the punters upon the back of the banker, of which the Greek
stoically feigned to take no notice. I saw the same man again nine years
afterwards in Vienna, captain in the service of Maria Theresa; he then
called himself d'Afflisso. Ten years later, I found him a colonel, and
some time after worth a million; but the last time I saw him, some
thirteen or fourteen years ago, he was a galley slave. He was handsome,
but (rather a singular thing) in spite of his beauty, he had a gallows
look. I have seen others with the same stamp--Cagliostro, for instance,
and another who has not yet been sent to the galleys, but who cannot
fail to pay them a visit. Should the reader feel any curiosity about it,
I can whisper the name in his ear.
Towards the ninth or tenth day everyone in the army knew and liked me,
and I was expecting the passport, which could not be delayed much
longer. I was almost free, and I would often walk about even out of
sight of the sentinel. They were quite right not to fear my running
away, and I should have been wrong if I had thought of escaping, but the
most singular adventure of my life happened to me then, and most
unexpectedly.
It was about six in the morning. I was taking a walk within one hundred
yards of the sentinel, when an officer arrived and alighted from his
horse, threw the bridle on the neck of his steed, and walked off.
Admiring the docility of the horse, standing there like a faithful
servant to whom his master has given orders to wait for him I got up to
him, and without any purpose I get hold of the bridle, put my foot in
the stirrup, and find myself in the saddle. I was on horseback for the
first time in my life. I do not know whether I touched the horse with my
cane or with my heels, but suddenly the animal starts at full speed. My
right foot having slipped out of the stirrup, I press against the horse
with my heels, and, feeling the pressure, it gallops faster and faster,
for I did not know how to check it. At the last advanced post the
sentinels call out to me to stop; but I cannot obey the order, and the
horse carrying me away faster than ever, I hear the whizzing of a few
musket balls, the natural consequence of my involuntary disobedience. At
last, when I reach the first advanced picket of the Austrians, the horse
is stopped, and I get off his back thanking God.
An officer of Hussars asks where I am running so fast, and my tongue,
quicker than my thought, answers without any privity on my part, that I
can render no account but to Prince Lobkowitz, commander-in-chief of the
army, whose headquarters were at Rimini. Hearing my answer, the officer
gave orders for two Hussars to get on horseback, a fresh one is given
me, and I am taken at full gallop to Rimini, where the officer on guard
has me escorted at once to the prince.
I find his highness alone, and I tell him candidly what has just
happened to me. My story makes him laugh, although he observes that it
is hardly credible.
"I ought," he says, "to put you under arrest, but I am willing to save
you that unpleasantness." With that he called one of his officers and
ordered him to escort me through the Cesena Gate. "Then you can go
wherever you please," he added, turning round to me; "but take care not
to again enter the lines of my army without a passport, or you might fare badly." |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기