She was pointing to a room adjoining the chamber in which she slept, and
so situated that, to see her in every part of her room, I should not
even require to place myself at the window.
"M. D---- R-----," she continued, "will not love you less, and as he
will see you here every day, he will not be likely to forget his
interest in your welfare. Now, tell me, will you come or not?"
"I wish I could, madam, but indeed I cannot."
"You cannot? That is singular. Take a seat, and tell me what there is to
prevent you, when, in accepting my offer, you are sure to please M. D---
- R---- as well as us."
"If I were certain of it, I would accept immediately; but all I have
heard from his lips was that he left me free to make a choice."
"Then you are afraid to grieve him, if you come to us?"
"It might be, and for nothing on earth...."
"I am certain of the contrary."
"Will you be so good as to obtain that he says so to me himself?"
"And then you will come?"
"Oh, madam! that very minute!"
But the warmth of my exclamation might mean a great deal, and I turned
my head round so as not to embarrass her. She asked me to give her her
mantle to go to church, and we went out. As we were going down the
stairs, she placed her ungloved hand upon mine. It was the first time
that she had granted me such a favour, and it seemed to me a good omen.
She took off her hand, asking me whether I was feverish. "Your hand,"
she said, "is burning."
When we left the church, M. D---- R-----'s carriage happened to pass,
and I assisted her to get in, and as soon as she had gone, hurried to my
room in order to breathe freely and to enjoy all the felicity which
filled my soul; for I no longer doubted her love for me, and I knew
that, in this case, M. D---- R---- was not likely to refuse her
anything.
What is love? I have read plenty of ancient verbiage on that subject, I
have read likewise most of what has been said by modern writers, but
neither all that has been said, nor what I have thought about it, when I
was young and now that I am no longer so, nothing, in fact, can make me
agree that love is a trifling vanity. It is a sort of madness, I grant
that, but a madness over which philosophy is entirely powerless; it is a
disease to which man is exposed at all times, no matter at what age, and
which cannot be cured, if he is attacked by it in his old age. Love
being sentiment which cannot be explained! God of all nature!--bitter
and sweet feeling! Love!--charming monster which cannot be fathomed! God
who, in the midst of all the thorns with which thou plaguest us,
strewest so many roses on our path that, without thee, existence and
death would be united and blended together!
Two days afterwards, M. D---- R-----, told me to go and take orders from
M. F---- on board his galley, which was ready for a five or six days'
voyage. I quickly packed a few things, and called for my new patron who
received me with great joy. We took our departure without seeing madam,
who was not yet visible. We returned on the sixth day, and I went to
establish myself in my new home, for, as I was preparing to go to M. D--
-- R-----, to take his orders, after our landing, he came himself, and
after asking M. F---- and me whether we were pleased with each other, he
said to me,
"Casanova, as you suit each other so well, you may be certain that you
will greatly please me by remaining in the service of M. F."
I obeyed respectfully, and in less than one hour I had taken possession
of my new quarters. Madame F---- told me how delighted she was to see
that great affair ended according to her wishes, and I answered with a
deep reverence.
I found myself like the salamander, in the very heart of the fire for
which I had been longing so ardently.
Almost constantly in the presence of Madame F----, dining often alone
with her, accompanying her in her walks, even when M. D---- R---- was
not with us, seeing her from my room, or conversing with her in her
chamber, always reserved and attentive without pretension, the first
night passed by without any change being brought about by that constant
intercourse. Yet I was full of hope, and to keep up my courage I
imagined that love was not yet powerful enough to conquer her pride. I
expected everything from some lucky chance, which I promised myself to
improve as soon as it should present itself, for I was persuaded that a
lover is lost if he does not catch fortune by the forelock.
But there was one circumstance which annoyed me. In public, she seized
every opportunity of treating me with distinction, while, when we were
alone, it was exactly the reverse. In the eyes of the world I had all
the appearance of a happy lover, but I would rather have had less of the
appearance of happiness and more of the reality. My love for her was
disinterested; vanity had no share in my feelings.
One day, being alone with me, she said,
"You have enemies, but I silenced them last night."
"They are envious, madam, and they would pity me if they could read the
secret pages of my heart. You could easily deliver me from those
enemies."
"How can you be an object of pity for them, and how could I deliver you
from them?"
"They believe me happy, and I am miserable; you would deliver me from
them by ill-treating me in their presence."
"Then you would feel my bad treatment less than the envy of the wicked?"
"Yes, madam, provided your bad treatment in public were compensated by
your kindness when we are alone, for there is no vanity in the happiness
I feel in belonging to you. Let others pity me, I will be happy on
condition that others are mistaken."
"That's a part that I can never play."
I would often be indiscreet enough to remain behind the curtain of the
window in my room, looking at her when she thought herself perfectly
certain that nobody saw her; but the liberty I was thus guilty of never
proved of great advantage to me. Whether it was because she doubted my
discretion or from habitual reserve, she was so particular that, even
when I saw her in bed, my longing eyes never could obtain a sight of
anything but her head.
One day, being present in her room while her maid was cutting off the
points of her long and beautiful hair, I amused myself in picking up all
those pretty bits, and put them all, one after the other, on her toilet-
table, with the exception of one small lock which I slipped into my
pocket, thinking that she had not taken any notice of my keeping it; but
the moment we were alone she told me quietly, but rather too seriously,
to take out of my pocket the hair I had picked up from the floor.
Thinking she was going too far, and such rigour appearing to me as cruel
as it was unjust and absurd, I obeyed, but threw the hair on the toilet-
table with an air of supreme contempt.
"Sir, you forget yourself."
"No, madam, I do not, for you might have feigned not to have observed
such an innocent theft."
"Feigning is tiresome."
"Was such petty larceny a very great crime?"
"No crime, but it was an indication of feelings which you have no right
to entertain for me."
"Feelings which you are at liberty not to return, madam, but which
hatred or pride can alone forbid my heart to experience. If you had a
heart you would not be the victim of either of those two fearful
passions, but you have only head, and it must be a very wicked head,
judging by the care it takes to heap humiliation upon me. You have
surprised my secret, madam, you may use it as you think proper, but in
the meantime I have learned to know you thoroughly. That knowledge will
prove more useful than your discovery, for perhaps it will help me to
become wiser."
After this violent tirade I left her, and as she did not call me back
retired to my room. In the hope that sleep would bring calm, I undressed
and went to bed. In such moments a lover hates the object of his love,
and his heart distils only contempt and hatred. I could not go to sleep,
and when I was sent for at supper-time I answered that I was ill. The
night passed off without my eyes being visited by sleep, and feeling
weak and low I thought I would wait to see what ailed me, and refused to
have my dinner, sending word that I was still very unwell. Towards
evening I felt my heart leap for joy when I heard my beautiful lady-love
enter my room. Anxiety, want of food and sleep, gave me truly the
appearance of being ill, and I was delighted that it should be so. I
sent her away very soon, by telling her with perfect indifference that
it was nothing but a bad headache, to which I was subject, and that
repose and diet would effect a speedy cure.
But at eleven o'clock she came back with her friend, M. D---- R-----,
and coming to my bed she said, affectionately,
"What ails you, my poor Casanova?"
"A very bad headache, madam, which will be cured to-morrow."
"Why should you wait until to-morrow? You must get better at once. I
have ordered a basin of broth and two new-laid eggs for you."
"Nothing, madam; complete abstinence can alone cure me."
"He is right," said M. D---- R-----, "I know those attacks."
I shook my head slightly. M. D---- R---- having just then turned round
to examine an engraving, she took my hand, saying that she would like me
to drink some broth, and I felt that she was giving me a small parcel.
She went to look at the engraving with M. D---- R-----.
I opened the parcel, but feeling that it contained hair, I hurriedly
concealed it under the bed-clothes: at the same moment the blood rushed
to my head with such violence that it actually frightened me. I begged
for some water, she came to me, with M. D---- R-----, and then were both
frightened to see me so red, when they had seen me pale and weak only
one minute before.
Madame F---- gave me a glass of water in which she put some Eau des
carmes which instantly acted as a violent emetic. Two or three minutes
after I felt better, and asked for something to eat. Madame F----
smiled. The servant came in with the broth and the eggs, and while I was
eating I told the history of Pandolfin. M. D---- R---- thought it was
all a miracle, and I could read, on the countenance of the charming
woman, love, affection, and repentance. If M. D---- R---- had not been
present, it would have been the moment of my happiness, but I felt
certain that I should not have long to wait. M. D---- R---- told Madame
F---- that, if he had not seen me so sick, he would have believed my
illness to be all sham, for he did not think it possible for anyone to
rally so rapidly.
"It is all owing to my Eau des carmes," said Madame F-----, looking at
me, "and I will leave you my bottle."
"No, madam, be kind enough to take it with you, for the water would have
no virtue without your presence."
"I am sure of that," said M. D---- R-----, "so I will leave you here
with your patient."
"No, no, he must go to sleep now."
I slept all night, but in my happy dreams I was with her, and the
reality itself would hardly have procured me greater enjoyment than I
had during my happy slumbers. I saw I had taken a very long stride
forward, for twenty-four hours of abstinence gave me the right to speak
to her openly of my love, and the gift of her hair was an irrefutable
confession of her own feelings.
On the following day, after presenting myself before M. F----, I went to
have a little chat with the maid, to wait until her mistress was
visible, which was not long, and I had the pleasure of hearing her laugh
when the maid told her I was there. As soon as I went in, without giving
me time to say a single word, she told me how delighted she was to see
me looking so well, and advised me to call upon M. D---- R-----.
It is not only in the eyes of a lover, but also in those of every man of
taste, that a woman is a thousand times more lovely at the moment she
comes out of the arms of Morpheus than when she has completed her
toilet. Around Madame F---- more brilliant beams were blazing than
around the sun when he leaves the embrace of Aurora. Yet the most
beautiful woman thinks as much of her toilet as the one who cannot do
without it--very likely because more human creatures possess the more
they want.
In the order given to me by Madame F---- to call on M. D---- R-----, I
saw another reason to be certain of approaching happiness, for I thought
that, by dismissing me so quickly, she had only tried to postpone the
consummation which I might have pressed upon her, and which she could
not have refused.
Rich in the possession of her hair, I held a consultation with my love
to decide what I ought to do with it, for Madame F----, very likely in
her wish to atone for the miserly sentiment which had refused me a small
bit, had given me a splendid lock, full a yard and a half long. Having
thought it over, I called upon a Jewish confectioner whose daughter was
a skilful embroiderer, and I made her embroider before me, on a bracelet
of green satin, the four initial letters of our names, and make a very
thin chain with the remainder. I had a piece of black ribbon added to
one end of the chain, in the shape of a sliding noose, with which I
could easily strangle myself if ever love should reduce me to despair,
and I passed it round my neck. As I did not want to lose even the
smallest particle of so precious a treasure, I cut with a pair of
scissors all the small bits which were left, and devoutly gathered them
together. Then I reduced them into a fine powder, and ordered the Jewish
confectioner to mix the powder in my presence with a paste made of
amber, sugar, vanilla, angelica, alkermes and storax, and I waited until
the comfits prepared with that mixture were ready. I had some more made
with the same composition, but without any hair; I put the first in a
beautiful sweetmeat box of fine crystal, and the second in a tortoise-
shell box.
From the day when, by giving me her hair, Madame F---- had betrayed the
secret feelings of her heart, I no longer lost my time in relating
stories or adventures; I only spoke to her of my cove, of my ardent
desires; I told her that she must either banish me from her presence, or
crown my happiness, but the cruel, charming woman would not accept that
alternative. She answered that happiness could not be obtained by
offending every moral law, and by swerving from our duties. If I threw
myself at her feet to obtain by anticipation her forgiveness for the
loving violence I intended to use against her, she would repulse me more
powerfully than if she had had the strength of a female Hercules, for
she would say, in a voice full of sweetness and affection,
"My friend, I do not entreat you to respect my weakness, but be generous
enough to spare me for the sake of all the love I feel for you."
"What! you love me, and you refuse to make me happy! It is impossible!
it is unnatural. You compel me to believe that you do not love me. Only
allow me to press my lips one moment upon your lips, and I ask no more."
"No, dearest, no; it would only excite the ardour of your desires, shake
my resolution, and we should then find ourselves more miserable than we
are now."
Thus did she every day plunge me in despair, and yet she complained that
my wit was no longer brilliant in society, that I had lost that
elasticity of spirits which had pleased her so much after my arrival
from Constantinople. M. D---- R-----, who often jestingly waged war
against me, used to say that I was getting thinner and thinner every
day. Madame F---- told me one day that my sickly looks were very
disagreeable to her, because wicked tongues would not fail to say that
she treated me with cruelty. Strange, almost unnatural thought! On it I
composed an idyll which I cannot read, even now, without feeling tears
in my eyes.
"What!" I answered, "you acknowledge your cruelty towards me? You are
afraid of the world guessing all your heartless rigour, and yet you
continue to enjoy it! You condemn me unmercifully to the torments of
Tantalus! You would be delighted to see me gay, cheerful, happy, even at
the expense of a judgment by which the world would find you guilty of a
supposed but false kindness towards me, and yet you refuse me even the
slightest favours!"
"I do not mind people believing anything, provided it is not true."
"What a contrast! Would it be possible for me not to love you, for you
to feel nothing for me? Such contradictions strike me as unnatural. But
you are growing thinner yourself, and I am dying. It must be so; we
shall both die before long, you of consumption, I of exhausting decline;
for I am now reduced to enjoying your shadow during the day, during the
night, always, everywhere, except when I am in your presence."
At that passionate declaration, delivered with all the ardour of an
excited lover, she was surprised, deeply moved, and I thought that the
happy hour had struck. I folded her in my arms, and was already tasting
the first fruits of enjoyment. . . . The sentinel knocked twice! . . .
Oh! fatal mischance! I recovered my composure and stood in front of her.
. . . M. D---- R---- made his appearance, and this time he found me in
so cheerful a mood that he remained with us until one o'clock in the
morning.
My comfits were beginning to be the talk of our society. M. D---- R-----
, Madame F----, and I were the only ones who had a box full of them. I
was stingy with them, and no one durst beg any from me, because I had
said that they were very expensive, and that in all Corfu there was no
confectioner who could make or physician who could analyse them. I never
gave one out of my crystal box, and Madame F. remarked it. I certainly
did not believe them to be amorous philtre, and I was very far from
supposing that the addition of the hair made them taste more delicious;
but a superstition, the offspring of my love, caused me to cherish them,
and it made me happy to think that a small portion of the woman I
worshipped was thus becoming a part of my being.
Influenced perhaps by some secret sympathy, Madame F. was exceedingly
fond of the comfits. She asserted before all her friends that they were
the universal panacea, and knowing herself perfect mistress of the
inventor, she did not enquire after the secret of the composition. But
having observed that I gave away only the comfits which I kept in my
tortoise-shell box, and that I never eat any but those from the crystal
box, she one day asked me what reason I had for that. Without taking
time to think, I told her that in those I kept for myself there was a
certain ingredient which made the partaker love her.
"I do not believe it," she answered; "but are they different from those
I eat myself?"
"They are exactly the same, with the exception of the ingredient I have
just mentioned, which has been put only in mine."
"Tell me what the ingredient is."
"It is a secret which I cannot reveal to you."
"Then I will never eat any of your comfits."
Saying which, she rose, emptied her box, and filled it again with
chocolate drops; and for the next few days she was angry with me, and
avoided my company. I felt grieved, I became low-spirited, but I could
not make up my mind to tell her that I was eating her hair!
She enquired why I looked so sad.
"Because you refuse to take my comfits."
"You are master of your secret, and I am mistress of my diet."
"That is my reward for having taken you into my confidence."
And I opened my box, emptied its contents in my hand, and swallowed the
whole of them, saying, "Two more doses like this, and I shall die mad
with love for you. Then you will be revenged for my reserve. Farewell,
madam."
She called me back, made me take a seat near her, and told me not to
commit follies which would make her unhappy; that I knew how much she
loved me, and that it was not owing to the effect of any drug. "To prove
to you," she added, "that you do not require anything of the sort to be
loved, here is a token of my affection." And she offered me her lovely
lips, and upon them mine remained pressed until I was compelled to draw
a breath. I threw myself at her feet, with tears of love and gratitude
blinding my eyes, and told her that I would confess my crime, if she
would promise to forgive me.
"Your crime! You frighten me. Yes, I forgive you, but speak quickly, and
tell me all."
"Yes, everything. My comfits contain your hair reduced to a powder. Here
on my arm, see this bracelet on which our names are written with your
hair, and round my neck this chain of the same material, which will help
me to destroy my own life when your love fails me. Such is my crime, but
I would not have been guilty of it, if I had not loved you."
She smiled, and, bidding me rise from my kneeling position, she told me
that I was indeed the most criminal of men, and she wiped away my tears,
assuring me that I should never have any reason to strangle myself with
the chain.
After that conversation, in which I had enjoyed the sweet nectar of my
divinity's first kiss, I had the courage to behave in a very different
manner. She could see the ardour which consumed me; perhaps the same
fire burned in her veins, but I abstained from any attack.
"What gives you," she said one day, "the strength to control yourself?"
"After the kiss which you granted to me of your own accord, I felt that
I ought not to wish any favour unless your heart gave it as freely. You
cannot imagine the happiness that kiss has given me."
"I not imagine it, you ungrateful man! Which of us has given that
happiness?"
"Neither you nor I, angel of my soul! That kiss so tender, so sweet, was
the child of love!"
"Yes, dearest, of love, the treasures of which are inexhaustible."
The words were scarcely spoken, when our lips were engaged in happy
concert. She held me so tight against her bosom that I could not use my
hands to secure other pleasures, but I felt myself perfectly happy.
After that delightful skirmish, I asked her whether we were never to go
any further.
"Never, dearest friend, never. Love is a child which must be amused with
trifles; too substantial food would kill it."
"I know love better than you; it requires that substantial food, and
unless it can obtain it, love dies of exhaustion. Do not refuse me the
consolation of hope."
"Hope as much as you please, if it makes you happy."
"What should I do, if I had no hope? I hope, because I know you have a
heart."
"Ah! yes. Do you recollect the day, when, in your anger, you told me
that I had only a head, but no heart, thinking you were insulting me
grossly!"
"Oh! yes, I recollect it."
"How heartily I laughed, when I had time to think! Yes, dearest, I have
a heart, or I should not feel as happy as I feel now. Let us keep our
happiness, and be satisfied with it, as it is, without wishing for
anything more."
Obedient to her wishes, but every day more deeply enamoured, I was in
hope that nature at last would prove stronger than prejudice, and would
cause a fortunate crisis. But, besides nature, fortune was my friend,
and I owed my happiness to an accident.
Madame F. was walking one day in the garden, leaning on M. D---- R-----
's arm, and was caught by a large rose-bush, and the prickly thorns left
a deep cut on her leg. M. D---- R---- bandaged the wound with his
handkerchief, so as to stop the blood which was flowing abundantly, and
she had to be carried home in a palanquin.
In Corfu, wounds on the legs are dangerous when they are not well
attended to, and very often the wounded are compelled to leave the city
to be cured.
Madame F---- was confined to her bed, and my lucky position in the house
condemned me to remain constantly at her orders. I saw her every minute;
but, during the first three days, visitors succeeded each other without
intermission, and I never was alone with her. In the evening, after
everybody had gone, and her husband had retired to his own apartment, M.
D---- R---- remained another hour, and for the sake of propriety I had
to take my leave at the same time that he did. I had much more liberty
before the accident, and I told her so half seriously, half jestingly.
The next day, to make up for my disappointment, she contrived a moment
of happiness for me.
An elderly surgeon came every morning to dress her wound, during which
operation her maid only was present, but I used to go, in my morning
dishabille, to the girl's room, and to wait there, so as to be the first
to hear how my dear one was.
That morning, the girl came to tell me to go in as the surgeon was
dressing the wound.
"See, whether my leg is less inflamed."
"To give an opinion, madam, I ought to have seen it yesterday."
"True. I feel great pain, and I am afraid of erysipelas."
"Do not be afraid, madam," said the surgeon, "keep your bed, and I
answer for your complete recovery."
The surgeon being busy preparing a poultice at the other end of the
room, and the maid out, I enquired whether she felt any hardness in the
calf of the leg, and whether the inflammation went up the limb; and
naturally, my eyes and my hands kept pace with my questions.... I saw no
inflammation, I felt no hardness, but... and the lovely patient
hurriedly let the curtain fall, smiling, and allowing me to take a sweet
kiss, the perfume of which I had not enjoyed for many days. It was a
sweet moment; a delicious ecstacy. From her mouth my lips descended to
her wound, and satisfied in that moment that my kisses were the best of
medicines, I would have kept my lips there, if the noise made by the
maid coming back had not compelled me to give up my delightful
occupation.
When we were left alone, burning with intense desires, I entreated her
to grant happiness at least to my eyes.
"I feel humiliated," I said to her, "by the thought that the felicity I
have just enjoyed was only a theft."
"But supposing you were mistaken?"
The next day I was again present at the dressing of the wound, and as
soon as the surgeon had left, she asked me to arrange her pillows, which
I did at once. As if to make that pleasant office easier, she raised the
bedclothes to support herself, and she thus gave me a sight of beauties
which intoxicated my eyes, and I protracted the easy operation without
her complaining of my being too slow.
When I had done I was in a fearful state, and I threw myself in an arm-
chair opposite her bed, half dead, in a sort of trance. I was looking at
that lovely being who, almost artless, was continually granting me
greater and still greater favours, and yet never allowed me to reach the
goal for which I was so ardently longing.
"What are you thinking of?" she said.
"Of the supreme felicity I have just been enjoying."
"You are a cruel man."
"No, I am not cruel, for, if you love me, you must not blush for your
indulgence. You must know, too, that, loving you passionately, I must
not suppose that it is to be a surprise that I am indebted for my
happiness in the enjoyment of the most ravishing sights, for if I owed
it only to mere chance I should be compelled to believe that any other
man in my position might have had the same happiness, and such an idea
would be misery to me. Let me be indebted to you for having proved to me
this morning how much enjoyment I can derive from one of my senses. Can
you be angry with my eyes?"
"Yes."
"They belong to you; tear them out."
The next day, the moment the doctor had gone, she sent her maid out to
make some purchases.
"Ah!" she said a few minutes after, "my maid has forgotten to change my
chemise."
"Allow me to take her place."
"Very well, but recollect that I give permission only to your eyes to
take a share in the proceedings."
"Agreed!"
She unlaced herself, took off her stays and her chemise, and told me to
be quick and put on the clean one, but I was not speedy enough, being
too much engaged by all I could see.
"Give me my chemise," she exclaimed; "it is there on that small table."
"Where?"
"There, near the bed. Well, I will take it myself."
She leaned over towards the table, and exposed almost everything I was
longing for, and, turning slowly round, she handed me the chemise which
I could hardly hold, trembling all over with fearful excitement. She
took pity on me, my hands shared the happiness of my eyes; I fell in her
arms, our lips fastened together, and, in a voluptuous, ardent pressure,
we enjoyed an amorous exhaustion not sufficient to allay our desires,
but delightful enough to deceive them for the moment.
With greater control over herself than women have generally under
similar circumstances, she took care to let me reach only the porch of
the temple, without granting me yet a free entrance to the sanctuary.
EPISODE 4 -- RETURN TO VENICE
CHAPTER XVI
A Fearful Misfortune Befalls Me--Love Cools Down--Leave Corfu and Return
to Venice--Give Up the Army and Become a Fiddler
The wound was rapidly healing up, and I saw near at hand the moment when
Madame F---- would leave her bed, and resume her usual avocations.
The governor of the galeasses having issued orders for a general review
at Gouyn, M. F----, left for that place in his galley, telling me to
join him there early on the following day with the felucca. I took
supper alone with Madame F----, and I told her how unhappy it made me to
remain one day away from her.
"Let us make up to-night for to-morrow's disappointment," she said, "and
let us spend it together in conversation. Here are the keys; when you
know that my maid has left me, come to me through my husband's room."
I did not fail to follow her instructions to the letter, and we found
ourselves alone with five hours before us. It was the month of June, and
the heat was intense. She had gone to bed; I folded her in my arms, she
pressed me to her bosom, but, condemning herself to the most cruel
torture, she thought I had no right to complain, if I was subjected to
the same privation which she imposed upon herself. My remonstrances, my
prayers, my entreaties were of no avail.
"Love," she said, "must be kept in check with a tight hand, and we can
laugh at him, since, in spite of the tyranny which we force him to obey,
we succeed all the same in gratifying our desires."
After the first ecstacy, our eyes and lips unclosed together, and a
little apart from each other we take delight in seeing the mutual
satisfaction beaming on our features.
Our desires revive; she casts a look upon my state of innocence entirely
exposed to her sight. She seems vexed at my want of excitement, and,
throwing off everything which makes the heat unpleasant and interferes
with our pleasure, she bounds upon me. It is more than amorous fury, it
is desperate lust. I share her frenzy, I hug her with a sort of
delirium, I enjoy a felicity which is on the point of carrying me to the
regions of bliss.... but, at the very moment of completing the offering,
she fails me, moves off, slips away, and comes back to work off my
excitement with a hand which strikes me as cold as ice.
"Ah, thou cruel, beloved woman! Thou art burning with the fire of love,
and thou deprivest thyself of the only remedy which could bring calm to
thy senses! Thy lovely hand is more humane than thou art, but thou has
not enjoyed the felicity that thy hand has given me. My hand must owe
nothing to thine. Come, darling light of my heart, come! Love doubles my
existence in the hope that I will die again, but only in that charming
retreat from which you have ejected me in the very moment of my greatest
enjoyment."
While I was speaking thus, her very soul was breathing forth the most
tender sighs of happiness, and as she pressed me tightly in her arms I
felt that she was weltering in an ocean of bliss.
Silence lasted rather a long time, but that unnatural felicity was
imperfect, and increased my excitement.
"How canst thou complain," she said tenderly, "when it is to that very
imperfection of our enjoyment that we are indebted for its continuance?
I loved thee a few minutes since, now I love thee a thousand times more,
and perhaps I should love thee less if thou hadst carried my enjoyment
to its highest limit."
"Oh! how much art thou mistaken, lovely one! How great is thy error!
Thou art feeding upon sophisms, and thou leavest reality aside; I mean
nature which alone can give real felicity. Desires constantly renewed
and never fully satisfied are more terrible than the torments of hell."
"But are not these desires happiness when they are always accompanied by
hope?"
"No, if that hope is always disappointed. It becomes hell itself,
because there is no hope, and hope must die when it is killed by
constant deception."
"Dearest, if hope does not exist in hell, desires cannot be found there
either; for to imagine desires without hopes would be more than
madness."
"Well, answer me. If you desire to be mine entirely, and if you feel the
hope of it, which, according to your way of reasoning, is a natural
consequence, why do you always raise an impediment to your own hope?
Cease, dearest, cease to deceive yourself by absurd sophisms. Let us be
as happy as it is in nature to be, and be quite certain that the reality
of happiness will increase our love, and that love will find a new life
in our very enjoyment."
"What I see proves the contrary; you are alive with excitement now, but
if your desires had been entirely satisfied, you would be dead,
benumbed, motionless. I know it by experience: if you had breathed the
full ecstacy of enjoyment, as you desired, you would have found a weak
ardour only at long intervals."
"Ah! charming creature, your experience is but very small; do not trust
to it. I see that you have never known love. That which you call love's
grave is the sanctuary in which it receives life, the abode which makes
it immortal. Give way to my prayers, my lovely friend, and then you
shall know the difference between Love and Hymen. You shall see that, if
Hymen likes to die in order to get rid of life, Love on the contrary
expires only to spring up again into existence, and hastens to revive,
so as to savour new enjoyment. Let me undeceive you, and believe me when
I say that the full gratification of desires can only increase a
hundredfold the mutual ardour of two beings who adore each other."
"Well, I must believe you; but let us wait. In the meantime let us enjoy
all the trifles, all the sweet preliminaries of love. Devour thy
mistress, dearest, but abandon to me all thy being. If this night is too
short we must console ourselves to-morrow by making arrangements for
another one."
"And if our intercourse should be discovered?"
"Do we make a mystery of it? Everybody can see that we love each other,
and those who think that we do not enjoy the happiness of lovers are
precisely the only persons we have to fear. We must only be careful to
guard against being surprised in the very act of proving our love.
Heaven and nature must protect our affection, for there is no crime when
two hearts are blended in true love. Since I have been conscious of my
own existence, Love has always seemed to me the god of my being, for
every time I saw a man I was delighted; I thought that I was looking
upon one-half of myself, because I felt I was made for him and he for
me. I longed to be married. It was that uncertain longing of the heart
which occupies exclusively a young girl of fifteen. I had no conception
of love, but I fancied that it naturally accompanied marriage. You can
therefore imagine my surprise when my husband, in the very act of making
a woman of me, gave me a great deal of pain without giving me the
slightest idea of pleasure! My imagination in the convent was much
better than the reality I had been condemned to by my husband! The
result has naturally been that we have become very good friends, but a
very indifferent husband and wife, without any desires for each other.
He has every reason to be pleased with me, for I always shew myself
docile to his wishes, but enjoyment not being in those cases seasoned by
love, he must find it without flavour, and he seldom comes to me for it.
"When I found out that you were in love with me, I felt delighted, and
gave you every opportunity of becoming every day more deeply enamoured
of me, thinking myself certain of never loving you myself. As soon as I
felt that love had likewise attacked my heart, I ill-treated you to
punish you for having made my heart sensible. Your patience and
constancy have astonished me, and have caused me to be guilty, for after
the first kiss I gave you I had no longer any control over myself. I was
indeed astounded when I saw the havoc made by one single kiss, and I
felt that my happiness was wrapped up in yours. That discovery flattered
and delighted me, and I have found out, particularly to-night, that I
cannot be happy unless you are so yourself."
"That is, my beloved, the most refined of all sentiments experienced by
love, but it is impossible for you to render me completely happy without
following in everything the laws and the wishes of nature."
The night was spent in tender discussions and in exquisite
voluptuousness, and it was not without some grief that at day-break I
tore myself from her arms to go to Gouyn. She wept for joy when she saw
that I left her without having lost a particle of my vigour, for she did
not imagine such a thing possible.
After that night, so rich in delights, ten or twelve days passed without
giving us any opportunity of quenching even a small particle of the
amorous thirst which devoured us, and it was then that a fearful
misfortune befell me.
One evening after supper, M. D---- R---- having retired, M. F---- used
no ceremony, and, although I was present, told his wife that he intended
to pay her a visit after writing two letters which he had to dispatch
early the next morning. The moment he had left the room we looked at
each other, and with one accord fell into each other's arms. A torrent
of delights rushed through our souls without restraint, without reserve,
but when the first ardour had been appeased, without giving me time to
think or to enjoy the most complete, the most delicious victory, she
drew back, repulsed me, and threw herself, panting, distracted, upon a
chair near her bed. Rooted to the spot, astonished, almost mad, I
tremblingly looked at her, trying to understand what had caused such an
extraordinary action. She turned round towards me and said, her eyes
flashing with the fire of love,
"My darling, we were on the brink of the precipice."
"The precipice! Ah! cruel woman, you have killed me, I feel myself
dying, and perhaps you will never see me again."
I left her in a state of frenzy, and rushed out, towards the esplanade,
to cool myself, for I was choking. Any man who has not experienced the
cruelty of an action like that of Madame F----, and especially in the
situation I found myself in at that moment, mentally and bodily, can
hardly realize what I suffered, and, although I have felt that
suffering, I could not give an idea of it.
I was in that fearful state, when I heard my name called from a window,
and unfortunately I condescended to answer. I went near the window, and
I saw, thanks to the moonlight, the famous Melulla standing on her
balcony.
"What are you doing there at this time of night?" I enquired.
"I am enjoying the cool evening breeze. Come up for a little while."
This Melulla, of fatal memory, was a courtezan from Zamte, of rare
beauty, who for the last four months had been the delight and the rage
of all the young men in Corfu. Those who had known her agreed in
extolling her charms: she was the talk of all the city. I had seen her
often, but, although she was very beautiful, I was very far from
thinking her as lovely as Madame F----, putting my affection for the
latter on one side. I recollect seeing in Dresden, in the year 1790, a
very handsome woman who was the image of Melulla.
I went upstairs mechanically, and she took me to a voluptuous boudoir;
she complained of my being the only one who had never paid her a visit,
when I was the man she would have preferred to all others, and I had the
infamy to give way.... I became the most criminal of men.
It was neither desire, nor imagination, nor the merit of the woman which
caused me to yield, for Melulla was in no way worthy of me; no, it was
weakness, indolence, and the state of bodily and mental irritation in
which I then found myself: it was a sort of spite, because the angel
whom I adored had displeased me by a caprice, which, had I not been
unworthy of her, would only have caused me to be still more attached to
her.
Melulla, highly pleased with her success, refused the gold I wanted to
give her, and allowed me to go after I had spent two hours with her.
When I recovered my composure, I had but one feeling--hatred for myself
and for the contemptible creature who had allured me to be guilty of so
vile an insult to the loveliest of her sex. I went home the prey to
fearful remorse, and went to bed, but sleep never closed my eyes
throughout that cruel night.
In the morning, worn out with fatigue and sorrow, I got up, and as soon
as I was dressed I went to M. F----, who had sent for me to give me some
orders. After I had returned, and had given him an account of my
mission, I called upon Madame F----, and finding her at her toilet I
wished her good morning, observing that her lovely face was breathing
the cheerfulness and the calm of happiness; but, suddenly, her eyes
meeting mine, I saw her countenance change, and an expression of sadness
replace her looks of satisfaction. She cast her eyes down as if she was
deep in thought, raised them again as if to read my very soul, and
breaking our painful silence, as soon as she had dismissed her maid, she
said to me, with an accent full of tenderness and of solemnity,
"Dear one, let there be no concealment either on my part or on yours. I
felt deeply grieved when I saw you leave me last night, and a little
consideration made me understand all the evil which might accrue to you
in consequence of what I had done. With a nature like yours, such scenes
might cause very dangerous disorders, and I have resolved not to do
again anything by halves. I thought that you went out to breathe the
fresh air, and I hoped it would do you good. I placed myself at my
window, where I remained more than an hour without seeing a light in
your room. Sorry for what I had done, loving you more than ever, I was
compelled, when my husband came to my room, to go to bed with the sad
conviction that you had not come home. This morning, M. F. sent an
officer to tell you that he wanted to see you, and I heard the messenger
inform him that you were not yet up, and that you had come home very
late. I felt my heart swell with sorrow. I am not jealous, dearest, for
I know that you cannot love anyone but me; I only felt afraid of some
misfortune. At last, this morning, when I heard you coming, I was happy,
because I was ready to skew my repentance, but I looked at you, and you
seemed a different man. Now, I am still looking at you, and, in spite of
myself, my soul reads upon your countenance that you are guilty, that
you have outraged my love. Tell me at once, dearest, if I am mistaken;if you have deceived me, say so openly. Do not be unfaithful to love and to truth. Knowing that I was the cause of it, I should never forgive my self, but there is an excuse for you in my heart, in my whole being." |
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