In order to guess, even at first sight, that the friend of the worthy
captain was not a man, it was enough to look at the hips. She was too
well made as a woman ever to pass for a man, and the women who disguise
themselves in male attire, and boast of being like men, are very wrong,
for by such a boast they confess themselves deficient in one of the
greatest perfections appertaining to woman.
A little before dinner-time we repaired to General Spada's mansion, and
the general presented the two officers to all the ladies. Not one of
them was deceived in the young officer, but, being already acquainted
with the adventure, they were all delighted to dine with the hero of the
comedy, and treated the handsome officer exactly as if he had truly been
a man, but I am bound to confess that the male guests offered the
Frenchwoman homages more worthy of her sex.
Madame Querini alone did not seem pleased, because the lovely stranger
monopolized the general attention, and it was a blow to her vanity to
see herself neglected. She never spoke to her, except to shew off her
French, which she could speak well. The poor captain scarcely opened his
lips, for no one cared to speak Latin, and the general had not much to
say in German.
An elderly priest, who was one of the guests, tried to justify the
conduct of the bishop by assuring us that the inn-keeper and the
'sbirri' had acted only under the orders of the Holy Office.
"That is the reason," he said, "for which no bolts are allowed in the
rooms of the hotels, so that strangers may not shut themselves up in
their chambers. The Holy Inquisition does not allow a man to sleep with
any woman but his wife."
Twenty years later I found all the doors in Spain with a bolt outside,
so that travellers were, as if they had been in prison, exposed to the
outrageous molestation of nocturnal visits from the police. That disease
is so chronic in Spain that it threatens to overthrow the monarchy some
day, and I should not be astonished if one fine morning the Grand
Inquisitor was to have the king shaved, and to take his place.
CHAPTER XXIII
I Purchase a Handsome Carriage, and Proceed to Parma With the Old
Captain and the Young Frenchwoman--I Pay a Visit to Javotte, and Present
Her With a Beautiful Pair of Gold Bracelets--My Perplexities Respecting
My Lovely Travelling Companion--A Monologue--Conversation with the
Captain--Tete-a-Tete with Henriette
The conversation was animated, and the young female officer was
entertaining everybody, even Madame Querini, although she hardly took
the trouble of concealing her spleen.
"It seems strange," she remarked, "that you and the captain should live
together without ever speaking to each other."
"Why, madam? We understand one another perfectly, for speech is of very
little consequence in the kind of business we do together."
That answer, given with graceful liveliness, made everybody laugh,
except Madame Querini-Juliette, who, foolishly assuming the air of a
prude, thought that its meaning was too clearly expressed.
"I do not know any kind of business," she said, "that can be transacted
without the assistance of the voice or the pen."
"Excuse me, madam, there are some: playing at cards, for instance, is a
business of that sort."
"Are you always playing?"
"We do nothing else. We play the game of the Pharaoh (faro), and I hold
the bank."
Everybody, understanding the shrewdness of this evasive answer, laughed
again, and Juliette herself could not help joining in the general
merriment.
"But tell me," said Count Spada, "does the bank receive much?"
"As for the deposits, they are of so little importance, that they are
hardly worth mentioning."
No one ventured upon translating that sentence for the benefit of the
worthy captain. The conversation continued in the same amusing style,
and all the guests were delighted with the graceful wit of the charming
officer.
Late in the evening I took leave of the general, and wished him a
pleasant journey.
"Adieu," he said, "I wish you a pleasant journey to Naples, and hope you
will enjoy yourself there."
"Well, general, I am not going to Naples immediately; I have changed my
mind and intend to proceed to Parma, where I wish to see the Infante. I
also wish to constitute myself the interpreter of these two officers who
know nothing of Italian:"
"Ah, young man! opportunity makes a thief, does it not? Well, if I were
in your place, I would do the same."
I also bade farewell to Madame Querini, who asked me to write to her
from Bologna. I gave her a promise to do so, but without meaning to
fulfil it.
I had felt interested in the young Frenchwoman when she was hiding under
the bed-clothes: she had taken my fancy the moment she had shewn her
features, and still more when I had seen her dressed. She completed her
conquest at the dinner-table by the display of a wit which I greatly
admired. It is rare in Italy, and seems to belong generally to the
daughters of France. I did not think it would be very difficult to win
her love, and I resolved on trying. Putting my self-esteem on one side,
I fancied I would suit her much better than the old Hungarian, a very
pleasant man for his age, but who, after all, carried his sixty years on
his face, while my twenty-three were blooming on my countenance. It
seemed to me that the captain himself would not raise any great
objection, for he seemed one of those men who, treating love as a matter
of pure fancy, accept all circumstances easily, and give way good-
naturedly to all the freaks of fortune. By becoming the travelling
companion of this ill-matched couple, I should probably succeed in my
aims. I never dreamed of experiencing a refusal at their hands, my
company would certainly be agreeable to them, as they could not exchange
a single word by themselves.
With this idea I asked the captain, as we reached our inn, whether he
intended to proceed to Parma by the public coach or otherwise.
"As I have no carriage of my own," he answered, "we shall have to take
the coach."
"I have a very comfortable carriage, and I offer you the two back seats
if you have no objection to my society."
"That is a piece of good fortune. Be kind enough to propose it to
Henriette."
"Will you, madam, grant me the favour of accompanying you to Parma?"
"I should be delighted, for we could have some conversation, but take
care, sir, your task will not be an easy one, you will often find
yourself obliged to translate for both of us."
"I shall do so with great pleasure; I am only sorry that the journey is
not longer. We can arrange everything at supper-time; allow me to leave
you now as I have some business to settle."
My business was in reference to a carriage, for the one I had boasted of
existed only in my imagination. I went to the most fashionable coffee-
house, and, as good luck would have it, heard that there was a
travelling carriage for sale, which no one would buy because it was too
expensive. Two hundred sequins were asked for it, although it had but
two seats and a bracket-stool for a third person. It was just what I
wanted. I called at the place where it would be seen. I found a very
fine English carriage which could not have cost less than two hundred
guineas. Its noble proprietor was then at supper, so I sent him my name,
requesting him not to dispose of his carriage until the next morning,
and I went back to the hotel well pleased with my discovery. At supper I
arranged with the captain that we would not leave Cesena till after
dinner on the following day, and the conversation was almost entirely a
dialogue between Henriette and myself; it was my first talk with a
French woman. I thought this young creature more and more charming, yet
I could not suppose her to be anything else but an adventurers, and I
was astonished at discovering in her those noble and delicate feelings
which denote a good education. However, as such an idea would not have
suited the views I had about her, I rejected it whenever it presented
itself to my mind. Whenever I tried to make her talk about the captain
she would change the subject of conversation, or evade my insinuations
with a tact and a shrewdness which astonished and delighted me at the
same time, for everything she said bore the impress of grace and wit.
Yet she did not elude this question:
"At least tell me, madam, whether the captain is your husband or your
father."
"Neither one nor the other," she answered, with a smile.
That was enough for me, and in reality what more did I want to know? The
worthy captain had fallen asleep. When he awoke I wished them both good
night, and retired to my room with a heart full of love and a mind full
of projects. I saw that everything had taken a good turn, and I felt
certain of success, for I was young, I enjoyed excellent health, I had
money and plenty of daring. I liked the affair all the better because it
must come to a conclusion in a few days.
Early the next morning I called upon Count Dandini, the owner of the
carriage, and as I passed a jeweller's shop I bought a pair of gold
bracelets in Venetian filigree, each five yards long and of rare
fineness. I intended them as a present for Javotte.
The moment Count Dandini saw me he recognized me. He had seen me in
Padua at the house of his father, who was professor of civil law at the
time I was a student there. I bought his carriage on condition that he
would send it to me in good repair at one o'clock in the afternoon.
Having completed the purchase, I went to my friend, Franzia, and my
present of the bracelets made Javotte perfectly happy. There was not one
girl in Cesena who could boast of possessing a finer pair, and with that
present my conscience felt at ease, for it paid the expense I had
occasioned during my stay of ten or twelve days at her father's house
four times over. But this was not the most important present I offered
the family. I made the father take an oath to wait for me, and never to
trust in any pretended magician for the necessary operation to obtain
the treasure, even if I did not return or give any news of myself for
ten years.
"Because," I said to him, "in consequence of the agreement in which I
have entered with the spirits watching the treasure, at the first
attempt made by any other person, the casket containing the treasure
will sink to twice its present depth, that is to say as deep as thirty-
five fathoms, and then I shall have myself ten times more difficulty in
raising it to the surface. I cannot state precisely the time of my
return, for it depends upon certain combinations which are not under my
control, but recollect that the treasure cannot be obtained by anyone
but I."
I accompanied my advice with threats of utter ruin to his family if he
should ever break his oath. And in this manner I atoned for all I had
done, for, far from deceiving the worthy man, I became his benefactor by
guarding against the deceit of some cheat who would have cared for his
money more than for his daughter. I never saw him again, and most likely
he is dead, but knowing the deep impression I left on his mind I am
certain that his descendants are even now waiting for me, for the name
of Farusi must have remained immortal in that family.
Javotte accompanied me as far as the gate of the city, where I kissed
her affectionately, which made me feel that the thunder and lightning
had had but a momentary effect upon me; yet I kept control over my
senses, and I congratulate myself on doing so to this day. I told her,
before bidding her adieu, that, her virginity being no longer necessary
for my magic operations, I advised her to get married as soon as
possible, if I did not return within three months. She shed a few tears,
but promised to follow my advice.
I trust that my readers will approve of the noble manner in which I
concluded my magic business. I hardly dare to boast of it, but I think I
deserve some praise for my behaviour. Perhaps, I might have ruined poor
Franzia with a light heart, had I not possessed a well-filled purse. I
do not wish to enquire whether any young man, having intelligence,
loving pleasure, and placed in the same position, would not have done
the same, but I beg my readers to address that question to themselves.
As for Capitani, to whom I sold the sheath of St. Peter's knife for
rather more than it was worth, I confess that I have not yet repented on
his account, for Capitani thought he had duped me in accepting it as
security for the amount he gave me, and the count, his father, valued it
until his death as more precious than the finest diamond in the world.
Dying with such a firm belief, he died rich, and I shall die a poor man.
Let the reader judge which of the two made the best bargain. But I must
return now to my future travelling companions.
As soon as I had reached the inn, I prepared everything for our
departure for which I was now longing. Henriette could not open her lips
without my discovering some fresh perfection, for her wit delighted me
even more than her beauty. It struck me that the old captain was pleased
with all the attention I shewed her, and it seemed evident to me that
she would not be sorry to exchange her elderly lover for me. I had all
the better right to think so, inasmuch as I was perfection from a
physical point of view, and I appeared to be wealthy, although I had no
servant. I told Henriette that, for the sake of having none, I spent
twice as much as a servant would have cost me, that, by my being my own
servant, I was certain of being served according to my taste, and I had
the satisfaction of having no spy at my heels and no privileged thief to
fear. She agreed with everything I said, and it increased my love.
The honest Hungarian insisted upon giving me in advance the amount to be
paid for the post-horses at the different stages as far as Parma. We
left Cesena after dinner, but not without a contest of politeness
respecting the seats. The captain wanted me to occupy the back seat-near
Henriette, but the reader will understand how much better the seat
opposite to her suited me; therefore I insisted upon taking the bracket-
seat, and had the double advantage of shewing my politeness, and of
having constantly and without difficulty before my eyes the lovely woman
whom I adored.
My happiness would have been too great if there had been no drawback to
it. But where can we find roses without thorns? When the charming
Frenchwoman uttered some of those witty sayings which proceed so
naturally from the lips of her countrywomen, I could not help pitying
the sorry face of the poor Hungarian, and, wishing to make him share my
mirth, I would undertake to translate in Latin Henriette's sallies; but
far from making him merry, I often saw his face bear a look of
astonishment, as if what I had said seemed to him rather flat. I had to
acknowledge to myself that I could not speak Latin as well as she spoke
French, and this was indeed the case. The last thing which we learn in
all languages is wit, and wit never shines so well as in jests. I was
thirty years of age before I began to laugh in reading Terence, Plautus
and Martial.
Something being the matter with the carriage, we stopped at Forli to
have it repaired. After a very cheerful supper, I retired to my room to
go to bed, thinking of nothing else but the charming woman by whom I was
so completely captivated. Along the road, Henriette had struck me as so
strange that I would not sleep in the second bed in their room. I was
afraid lest she should leave her old comrade to come to my bed and sleep
with me, and I did not know how far the worthy captain would have put up
with such a joke. I wished, of course, to possess that lovely creature,
but I wanted everything to be settled amicably, for I felt some respect
for the brave officer.
Henriette had nothing but the military costume in which she stood, not
any woman's linen, not even one chemise. For a change she took the
captain's shirt. Such a state of things was so new to me that the
situation seemed to me a complete enigma.
In Bologna, excited by an excellent supper and by the amorous passion
which was every hour burning more fiercely in me, I asked her by what
singular adventure she had become the friend of the honest fellow who
looked her father rather than her lover.
"If you wish to know," she answered, with a smile, "ask him to relate
the whole story himself, only you must request him not to omit any of
the particulars."
Of course I applied at once to the captain, and, having first
ascertained by signs that the charming Frenchwoman had no objection, the
good man spoke to me thus:
"A friend of mine, an officer in the army, having occasion to go to
Rome, I solicited a furlough of six months, and accompanied him. I
seized with great delight the opportunity of visiting a city, the name
of which has a powerful influence on the imagination, owing to the
memories of the past attached to it. I did not entertain any doubt that
the Latin language was spoken there in good society, at least as
generally as in Hungary. But I was indeed greatly mistaken, for nobody
can speak it, not even the priests, who only pretend to write it, and it
is true that some of them do so with great purity. I was therefore
rather uncomfortable during my stay in Rome, and with the exception of
my eyes my senses remained perfectly inactive. I had spent a very
tedious month in that city, the ancient queen of the world, when
Cardinal Albani gave my friend dispatches for Naples. Before leaving
Rome, he introduced me to his eminence, and his recommendation had so
much influence that the cardinal promised to send me very soon with
dispatches for the Duke of Parma, Piacenza, and Guastalla, assuring me
that all my travelling expenses would be defrayed. As I wished to see
the harbour called in former times Centum cellae and now Civita-Vecchia,
I gave up the remainder of my time to that visit, and I proceeded there
with a cicerone who spoke Latin.
"I was loitering about the harbour when I saw, coming out of a tartan,
an elderly officer and this young woman dressed as she is now. Her
beauty struck me, but I should not have thought any more about it, if
the officer had not put up at my inn, and in an apartment over which I
had a complete view whenever I opened my window. In the evening I saw
the couple taking supper at the same table, but I remarked that the
elderly officer never addressed a word to the young one. When the supper
was over, the disguised girl left the room, and her companion did not
lift his eyes from a letter which he was reading, as it seemed to me,
with the deepest attention. Soon afterwards the officer closed the
windows, the light was put out, and I suppose my neighbors went to bed.
The next morning, being up early as is my habit, I saw the officer go
out, and the girl remained alone in the room.
"I sent my cicerone, who was also my servant, to tell the girl in the
garb of an officer that I would give her ten sequins for an hour's
conversation. He fulfilled my instructions, and on his return he
informed me that her answer, given in French, had been to the effect
that she would leave for Rome immediately after breakfast, and that,
once in that city, I should easily find some opportunity of speaking to
her.
"'I can find out from the vetturino,' said my cicerone, 'where they put
up in Rome, and I promise you to enquire of him.'
"She left Civita-Vecchia with the elderly officer, and I returned home
on the following day.
"Two days afterwards, the cardinal gave me the dispatches, which were
addressed to M. Dutillot, the French minister, with a passport and the
money necessary for the journey. He told me, with great kindness, that I
need not hurry on the road.
"I had almost forgotten the handsome adventuress, when, two days before
my departure, my cicerone gave me the information that he had found out
where she lived, and that she was with the same officer. I told him to
try to see her, and to let her know that my departure was fixed for the
day after the morrow. She sent me word by him that, if I would inform
her of the hour of my departure, she would meet me outside of the gate,
and get into the coach with me to accompany me on my way. I thought the
arrangement very ingenious and during the day I sent the cicerone to
tell her the hour at which I intended to leave, and where I would wait
for her outside of the Porto del Popolo. She came at the appointed time,
and we have remained together ever since. As soon as she was seated near
me, she made me understand by signs that she wanted to dine with me. You
may imagine what difficulty we had in understanding one another, but we
guessed somehow the meaning expressed by our pantomime, and I accepted
the adventure with delight.
"We dined gaily together, speaking without understanding, but after the
dessert we comprehended each other very well. I fancied that I had seen
the end of it, and you may imagine how surprised I was when, upon my
offering her the ten sequins, she refused most positively to take any
money, making me understand that she would rather go with me to Parma,
because she had some business in that city, and did not want to return
to Rome.
"The proposal was, after all, rather agreeable to me; I consented to her
wishes. I only regretted my inability to make her understand that, if
she was followed by anyone from Rome, and if that person wanted to take
her back, I was not in a position to defend her against violence. I was
also sorry that, with our mutual ignorance of the language spoken by
each of us, we had no opportunity of conversation, for I should have
been greatly pleased to hear her adventures, which, I think, must be
interesting. You can, of course, guess that I have no idea of who she
can be. I only know that she calls herself Henriette, that she must be a
Frenchwoman, that she is as gentle as a turtledove, that she has
evidently received a good education, and that she enjoys good health.
She is witty and courageous, as we have both seen, I in Rome and you in
Cesena at General Spada's table. If she would tell you her history, and
allow you to translate it for me in Latin she would indeed please me
much, for I am sincerely her friend, and I can assure you that it will
grieve me to part from her in Parma. Please to tell her that I intend to
give her the thirty sequins I received from the Bishop of Cesena, and
that if I were rich I would give her more substantial proofs of my
tender affection. Now, sir, I shall feel obliged to you if you will
explain it all to her in French."
I asked her whether she would feel offended if I gave her an exact
translation. She assured me that, on the contrary, she wished me to
speak openly, and I told her literally what the captain had related to
me.
With a noble frankness which a slight shade of-shame rendered more
interesting, Henriette confirmed the truth of her friend's narrative,
but she begged me to tell him that she could not grant his wish
respecting the adventures of her life.
"Be good enough to inform him," she added, "that the same principle
which forbids me to utter a falsehood, does not allow me to tell the
truth. As for the thirty sequins which he intends to give me, I will not
accept even one of them, and he would deeply grieve me by pressing them
upon me. The moment we reach Parma I wish him to allow me to lodge
wherever I may please, to make no enquiries whatever about me, and, in
case he should happen to meet me, to crown his great kindness to me by
not appearing to have ever known me."
As she uttered the last words of this short speech, which she had
delivered very seriously and with a mixture of modesty and resolution,
she kissed her elderly friend in a manner which indicated esteem and
gratitude rather than love. The captain, who did not know why she was
kissing him, was deeply grieved when I translated what Henriette had
said. He begged me to tell her that, if he was to obey her with an easy
conscience, he must know whether she would have everything she required
in Parma.
"You can assure him," she answered, "that he need not entertain any
anxiety about me."
This conversation had made us all very sad; we remained for a long time
thoughtful and silent, until, feeling the situation to be painful, I
rose, wishing them good night, and I saw that Henriette's face wore a
look of great excitement.
As soon as I found myself alone in my room, deeply moved by conflicting
feelings of love, surprise, and uncertainty, I began to give vent to my
feelings in a kind of soliloquy, as I always do when I am strongly
excited by anything; thinking is not, in those cases, enough for me; I
must speak aloud, and I throw so much action, so much animation into
these monologues that I forget I am alone. What I knew now of Henriette
had upset me altogether.
"Who can she be," I said, speaking to the walls; "this girl who seems to
have the most elevated feelings under the veil of the most cynical
libertinism? She says that in Parma she wishes to remain perfectly
unknown, her own mistress, and I cannot, of course, flatter myself that
she will not place me under the same restrictions as the captain to whom
she has already abandoned herself. Goodbye to my expectations, to my
money, and my illusions! But who is she--what is she? She must have
either a lover or a husband in Parma, or she must belong to a
respectable family; or, perhaps, thanks to a boundless love for
debauchery and to her confidence in her own charms, she intends to set
fortune, misery, and degradation at defiance, and to try to enslave some
wealthy nobleman! But that would be the plan of a mad woman or of a
person reduced to utter despair, and it does not seem to be the case
with Henriette. Yet she possesses nothing. True, but she refused, as if
she had been provided with all she needed, the kind assistance of a man
who has the right to offer it, and from whom, in sooth, she can accept
without blushing, since she has not been ashamed to grant him favours
with which love had nothing to do. Does she think that it is less
shameful for a woman to abandon herself to the desires of a man unknown
and unloved than to receive a present from an esteemed friend, and
particularly at the eve of finding herself in the street, entirely
destitute in the middle of a foreign city, amongst people whose language
she cannot even speak? Perhaps she thinks that such conduct will justify
the 'faux pas' of which she has been guilty with the captain, and give
him to understand that she had abandoned herself to him only for the
sake of escaping from the officer with whom she was in Rome. But she
ought to be quite certain that the captain does not entertain any other
idea; he shews himself so reasonable that it is impossible to suppose
that he ever admitted the possibility of having inspired her with a
violent passion, because she had seen him once through a window in
Civita-Vecchia. She might possibly be right, and feel herself justified
in her conduct towards the captain, but it is not the same with me, for
with her intelligence she must be aware that I would not have travelled
with them if she had been indifferent to me, and she must know that
there is but one way in which she can obtain my pardon. She may be
endowed with many virtues, but she has not the only one which could
prevent me from wishing the reward which every man expects to receive at
the hands of the woman he loves. If she wants to assume prudish manners
towards me and to make a dupe of me, I am bound in honour to shew her
how much she is mistaken."
After this monologue, which had made me still more angry, I made up my
mind to have an explanation in the morning before our departure.
"I shall ask her," said I to myself, "to grant me the same favours which
she has so easily granted to her old captain, and if I meet with a
refusal the best revenge will be to shew her a cold and profound
contempt until our arrival in Parma."
I felt sure that she could not refuse me some marks of real or of
pretended affection, unless she wished to make a show of a modesty which
certainly did not belong to her, and, knowing that her modesty would
only be all pretence, I was determined not to be a mere toy in her
hands.
As for the captain, I felt certain, from what he had told me, that he
would not be angry with me if I risked a declaration, for as a sensible
man he could only assume a neutral position.
Satisfied with my wise reasoning, and with my mind fully made up, I fell
asleep. My thoughts were too completely absorbed by Henriette for her
not to haunt my dreams, but the dream which I had throughout the night
was so much like reality that, on awaking, I looked for her in my bed,
and my imagination was so deeply struck with the delights of that night
that, if my door had not been fastened with a bolt, I should have
believed that she had left me during my sleep to resume her place near
the worthy Hungarian.
When I was awake I found that the happy dream of the night had turned my
love for the lovely creature into a perfect amorous frenzy, and it could
not be other wise. Let the reader imagine a poor devil going to bed
broken down with fatigue and starvation; he succumbs to sleep, that most
imperative of all human wants, but in his dream he finds himself before
a table covered with every delicacy; what will then happen? Why, a very
natural result. His appetite, much more lively than on the previous day,
does not give him a minute's rest he must satisfy it or die of sheer
hunger.
I dressed myself, resolved on making sure of the possession of the woman
who had inflamed all my senses, even before resuming our journey.
"If I do not succeed," I said to myself, "I will not go one step
further."
But, in order not to offend against propriety, and not to deserve the
reproaches of an honest man, I felt that it was my duty to have an
explanation with the captain in the first place.
I fancy that I hear one of those sensible, calm, passionless readers,
who have had the advantage of what is called a youth without storms, or
one of those whom old age has forced to become virtuous, exclaim,
"Can anyone attach so much importance to such nonsense?"
Age has calmed my passions down by rendering them powerless, but my
heart has not grown old, and my memory has kept all the freshness of
youth; and far from considering that sort of thing a mere trifle, my
only sorrow, dear reader, arises from the fact that I have not the power
to practise, to the day of my death, that which has been the principal
affair of my life!
When I was ready I repaired to the chamber occupied by my two travelling
companions, and after paying each of them the usual morning compliments
I told the officer that I was deeply in love with Henriette, and I asked
him whether he would object to my trying to obtain her as my mistress.
"The reason for which she begs you," I added, "to leave her in Parma and
not to take any further notice of her, must be that she hopes to meet
some lover of hers there. Let me have half an hour's conversation with
her, and I flatter myself I can persuade her to sacrifice that lover for
me. If she refuses me, I remain here; you will go with her to Parma,
where you will leave my carriage at the post, only sending me a receipt,
so that I can claim it whenever I please."
"As soon as breakfast is over," said the excellent man, "I shall go and
visit the institute, and leave you alone with Henriette. I hope you may
succeed, for I should be delighted to see her under your protection when
I part with her. Should she persist in her first resolution, I could
easily find a 'vetturino' here, and you could keep your carriage. I
thank you for your proposal, and it will grieve me to leave you."
Highly pleased at having accomplished half of my task, and at seeing
myself near the denouement, I asked the lovely Frenchwoman whether she
would like to see the sights of Bologna.
"I should like it very much," she said, "if I had some other clothes;
but with such a costume as this I do not care to shew myself about the
city."
"Then you do not want to go out?"
"No."
"Can I keep you company?"
"That would be delightful:"
The captain went out immediately after breakfast. The moment he had gone
I told Henriette that her friend had left us alone purposely, so as to
give me the opportunity of a private interview with her.
"Tell me now whether you intended the order which you gave him yesterday
to forget you, never to enquire after you; and even not to know you if
he happened to meet you, from the time of our arrival in Parma, for me
as well as for him."
"It is not an order that I gave him; I have no right to do so, and I
could not so far forget myself; it is only a prayer I addressed to him,
a service which circumstances have compelled me to claim at his hands,
and as he has no right to refuse me, I never entertained any doubt of
his granting my command. As far as you are concerned, it is certain that
I should have addressed the same prayer to you, if I had thought that
you had any views about me. You have given me some marks of your
friendship, but you must understand that if, under the circumstances, I
am likely to be injured by the kind attentions of the captain, yours
would injure me much more. If you have any friendship for me, you would
have felt all that."
"As you know that I entertain great friendship for you, you cannot
possibly suppose that I would leave you alone, without money, without
resources in the middle of a city where you cannot even make yourself
understood. Do you think that a man who feels for you the most tender
affection can abandon you when he has been fortunate enough to make your
acquaintance, when he is aware of the sad position in which you are
placed? If you think such a thing possible, you must have a very false
idea of friendship, and should such a man grant your request, he would
only prove that he is not your friend."
"I am certain that the captain is my friend; yet you have heard him, he
will obey me, and forget me."
"I do not know what sort of affection that honest man feels for you, or
how far he can rely upon the control he may have over himself, but I
know that if he can grant you what you have asked from him, his
friendship must be of a nature very different from mine, for I am bound
to tell you it is not only impossible for me to afford you willingly the
strange gratification of abandoning you in your position, but even that,
if I go to Parma, you could not possibly carry out your wishes, because
I love you so passionately that you must promise to be mine, or I must
remain here. In that case you must go to Parma alone with the captain,
for I feel that, if I accompanied you any further, I should soon be the
most wretched of men. I could not bear to see you with another lover,
with a husband, not even in the midst of your family; in fact, I would
fain see you and live with you forever. Let me tell you, lovely
Henriette, that if it is possible for a Frenchman to forget, an Italian
cannot do it, at least if I judge from my own feelings. I have made up
my mind, you must be good enough to decide now, and to tell me whether I
am to accompany you or to remain here. Answer yes or no; if I remain
here it is all over. I shall leave for Naples to-morrow, and I know I
shall be cured in time of the mad passion I feel for you, but if you
tell me that I can accompany you to Parma, you must promise me that your
heart will forever belong to me alone. I must be the only one to possess
you, but I am ready to accept as a condition, if you like, that you
shall not crown my happiness until you have judged me worthy of it by my
attentions and by my loving care. Now, be kind enough to decide before
the return of the too happy captain. He knows all, for I have told him
what I feel."
"And what did he answer?"
"That he would be happy to see you under my protection. But what is the
meaning of that smile playing on your lips?"
"Pray, allow me to laugh, for I have never in my life realized the idea
of a furious declaration of love. Do you understand what it is to say to
a woman in a declaration which ought to be passionate, but at the same
time tender and gentle, the following terrible words:
"'Madam, make your choice, either one or the other, and decide
instanter!' Ha! ha! ha!"
"Yes, I understand perfectly. It is neither gentle, nor gallant, nor
pathetic, but it is passionate. Remember that this is a serious matter,
and that I have never yet found myself so much pressed by time. Can you,
on your side, realize the painful position of a man, who, being deeply
in love, finds himself compelled to take a decision which may perhaps
decide issues of life and death? Be good enough to remark that, in spite
of the passion raging in me, I do not fail in the respect I owe you;
that the resolution I intend to take, if you should persist in your
original decision, is not a threat, but an effort worthy of a hero,
which ought to call for your esteem. I beg of you to consider that we
cannot afford to lose time. The word choose must not sound harshly in
your ears, since it leaves my fate as well as yours entirely in your
hands. To feel certain of my love, do you want to see me kneeling before
you like a simpleton, crying and entreating you to take pity on me? No,
madam, that would certainly displease you, and it would not help me. I
am conscious of being worthy of your love, I therefore ask for that
feeling and not for pity. Leave me, if I displease you, but let me go
away; for if you are humane enough to wish that I should forget you,
allow me to go far away from you so as to make my sorrow less immense.
Should I follow you to Parma, I would not answer for myself, for I might
give way to my despair. Consider everything well, I beseech you; you
would indeed be guilty of great cruelty, were you to answer now: 'Come
to Parma, although I must beg of you not to see me in that city.'
Confess that you cannot, in all fairness, give me such an answer; am I
not right?"
"Certainly, if you truly love me."
"Good God! if I love you? Oh, yes! believe me, my love is immense,
sincere! Now, decide my fate."
"What! always the same song?"
"Yes."
"But are you aware that you look very angry?"
"No, for it is not so. I am only in a state of uncontrollable
excitement, in one of the decisive hours of my life, a prey to the most
fearful anxiety. I ought to curse my whimsical destiny and the 'sbirri'
of Cesena (may God curse them, too!), for, without them, I should never
have known you."
"Are you, then, so very sorry to have made my acquaintance?"
"Have I not some reason to be so?"
"No, for I have not given you my decision yet."
"Now I breathe more freely, for I am sure you will tell me to accompany
you to Parma."
"Yes, come to Parma."
================
TO PARIS AND PRISON
EPISODE 6 -- PARIS
CHAPTER I
Leave Bologna a Happy Man--The Captain Parts from Us in Reggio, where I
Spend a Delightful Night with Henriette--Our Arrival in Parma--Henriette
Resumes the Costume of a Woman; Our Mutual Felicity--I Meet Some
Relatives of Mine, but Do not Discover Myself
The reader can easily guess that there was a change as sudden as a
transformation in a pantomime, and that the short but magic sentence,
"Come to Parma," proved a very fortunate catastrophe, thanks to which I
rapidly changed, passing from the tragic to the gentle mood, from the
serious to the tender tone. Sooth to say, I fell at her feet, and
lovingly pressing her knees I kissed them repeatedly with raptures of
gratitude. No more 'furore', no more bitter words; they do not suit the
sweetest of all human feelings! Loving, docile, grateful, I swear never
to beg for any favour, not even to kiss her hand, until I have shewn
myself worthy of her precious love! The heavenly creature, delighted to
see me pass so rapidly from despair to the most lively tenderness, tells
me, with a voice the tone of which breathes of love, to get up from my
knees.
"I am sure that you love me," says she, "and be quite certain that I
shall leave nothing undone to secure the constancy of your feelings."
Even if she had said that she loved me as much as I adored her, she
would not have been more eloquent, for her words expressed all that can
be felt. My lips were pressed to her beautiful hands as the captain
entered the room. He complimented us with perfect good faith, and I told
him, my face beaming with happiness, that I was going to order the
carriage. I left them together, and in a short time we were on our road,
cheerful, pleased, and merry.
Before reaching Reggio the honest captain told me that in his opinion it
would be better for him to proceed to Parma alone, as, if we arrived in
that city all together, it might cause some remarks, and people would
talk about us much less if we were without him. We both thought him
quite right, and we immediately made up our minds to pass the night in
Reggio, while the captain would take a post-chaise and go alone to
Parma. According to that arrangement his trunk was transferred to the
vehicle which he hired in Reggio, he bade us farewell and went away,
after having promised to dine with us on the following day in Parma.
The decision taken by the worthy Hungarian was, doubtless, as agreeable
to my lovely friend as to me, for our delicacy would have condemned us
to a great reserve in his presence. And truly, under the new
circumstances, how were we to arrange for our lodgings in Reggio?
Henriette could not, of course, share the bed of the captain any more,
and she could not have slept with me as long as he was with us, without
being guilty of great immodesty. We should all three have laughed at
that compulsory reserve which we would have felt to be ridiculous, but
we should, for all that, have submitted to it. Love is the little
impudent god, the enemy of bashfulness, although he may very often enjoy
darkness and mystery, but if he gives way to it he feels disgraced; he
loses three-fourths of his dignity and the greatest portion of his
charms.
Evidently there could be no happiness for Henriette or for me unless we
parted with the person and even with the remembrance of the excellent
captain.
We supped alone. I was intoxicated with a felicity which seemed too
immense, and yet I felt melancholy, but Henriette, who looked sad
likewise, had no reproach to address to me. Our sadness was in reality
nothing but shyness; we loved each other, but we had had no time to
become acquainted. We exchanged only a few words, there was nothing
witty, nothing interesting in our conversation, which struck us both as
insipid, and we found more pleasure in the thoughts which filled our
minds. We knew that we were going to pass the night together, but we
could not have spoken of it openly. What a night! what a delightful
creature was that Henriette whom I have loved so deeply, who has made me
so supremely happy!
It was only three or four days later that I ventured on asking her what
she would have done, without a groat in her possession, having not one
acquaintance in Parma, if I had been afraid to declare my love, and if I
had gone to Naples. She answered that she would doubtless have found
herself in very great difficulties, but that she had all along felt
certain of my love, and that she had foreseen what had happened. She
added that, being impatient to know what I thought of her, she had asked
me to translate to the captain what she had expressed respecting her
resolution, knowing that he could neither oppose that resolution nor
continue to live with her, and that, as she had taken care not to
include me in the prayer which she had addressed to him through me, she
had thought it impossible that I should fail to ask whether I could be
of some service to her, waiting to take a decision until she could have
ascertained the nature of my feelings towards her. She concluded by
telling me that if she had fallen it was the fault of her husband and of
her father-in-law, both of whom she characterized as monsters rather than men. |
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