the memories of casanova 109

the memories of casanova 109

According to the information I had received from C---- C----, I placed

myself, one morning, so as to see her mother enter the church, into

which I followed her. Kneeling close to her, I told her that I wished to

speak with her, and she followed me to the cloister. I began by speaking

a few consoling words; then I told her that I would remain faithful to

her daughter, and I asked her whether she visited her.

 

"I intend," she said, "to go and kiss my dear child next Sunday, and I

shall of course speak of you with her, for I know well enough that she

will be delighted to have news of you; but to my great regret I am not

at liberty to tell you where she is."

 

"I do not wish you to tell me, my good mother, but allow me to send her

this ring by you. It is the picture of her patroness, and I wish you to

entreat her to wear it always on her finger; tell her to look at the

image during her daily prayers, for without that protection she can

never become my wife. Tell her that, on my side, I address every day a

credo to St. James."

 

Delighted with the piety of my feelings and with the prospect of

recommending this new devotion to her daughter, the good woman promised

to fulfil my commission. I left her, but not before I had placed in her

hand ten sequins which I begged her to force upon her daughter's

acceptance to supply herself with the trifles she might require. She

accepted, but at the same time she assured me that her father had taken

care to provide her with all necessaries. The letter which I received

from C---- C----, on the following Wednesday, was the __EXPRESSION__ of the

most tender affection and the most lively gratitude. She said that the

moment she was alone nothing could be more rapid than the point of the

pin which made St. Catherine cut a somersault, and presented to her

eager eyes the beloved features of the being who was the whole world to

her. "I am constantly kissing you," she added, "even when some of the

nuns are looking at me, for whenever they come near me I have only to

let the top part of the ring fall back and my dear patroness takes care

to conceal everything. All the nuns are highly pleased with my devotion

and with the confidence I have in the protection of my blessed

patroness, whom they think very much like me in the face." It was

nothing but a beautiful face created by the fancy of the painter, but my

dear little wife was so lovely that beauty was sure to be like her.

 

She said, likewise, that the nun who taught her French had offered her

fifty sequins for the ring on account of the likeness between her and

the portrait of the saint, but not out of veneration for her patroness,

whom she turned into ridicule as she read her life. She thanked me for

the ten sequins I had sent her, because, her mother having given them to

her in the presence of several of the sisters, she was thus enabled to

spend a little money without raising the suspicions of those curious and

inquisitive nuns. She liked to offer trifling presents to the other

boarders, and the money allowed her to gratify that innocent taste.

 

"My mother," added she, "praised your piety very highly; she is

delighted with your feelings of devotion. Never mention again, I beg,

the name of my unworthy brother."

 

For five or six weeks her letters were full of the blessed St.

Catherine, who caused her to tremble with fear every time she found

herself compelled to trust the ring to the mystic curiosity of the

elderly nuns, who, in order to see the likeness better through their

spectacles, brought it close to their eyes, and rubbed the enamel. "I am

in constant fear," C---- C---- wrote, "of their pressing the invisible

blue spot by chance. What would become of me, if my patroness, jumping

up, discovered to their eyes a face--very divine, it is true, but which

is not at all like that of a saint? Tell me, what could I do in such a

case?"

 

One month after the second arrest of P---- C----, the jeweller, who had

taken my security for the ring, called on me for payment of the bill. I

made an arrangement with him; and on condition of my giving him twenty

sequins, and leaving him every right over the debtor, he exonerated me.

From his prison the impudent P---- C---- harassed me with his cowardly

entreaties for alms and assistance.

 

Croce was in Venice, and engrossed a great share of the general

attention. He kept a fine house, an excellent table, and a faro bank

with which he emptied the pockets of his dupes. Foreseeing what would

happen sooner or later, I had abstained from visiting him at his house,

but we were friendly whenever we met. His wife having been delivered of

a boy, Croce asked me to stand as god-father, a favour which I thought I

could grant; but after the ceremony and the supper which was the

consequence of it, I never entered the house of my former partner, and I

acted rightly. I wish I had always been as prudent in my conduct.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XV

 

 

Croce Is Expelled From Venice--Sgombro--His Infamy and Death--Misfortune

Which Befalls My Dear C. C.--I Receive An Anonymous Letter From a Nun,

and Answer It--An Amorous Intrigue

 

My former partner was, as I have said before, a skilful and experienced

hand at securing the favours of Fortune; he was driving a good trade in

Venice, and as he was amiable, and what is called in society a

gentleman, he might have held that excellent footing for a long time, if

he had been satisfied with gambling; for the State Inquisitors would

have too much to attend to if they wished to compel fools to spare their

fortunes, dupes to be prudent, and cheats not to dupe the fools; but,

whether through the folly of youth or through a vicious disposition, the

cause of his exile was of an extraordinary and disgusting nature.

 

A Venetian nobleman, noble by birth, but very ignoble in his

propensities, called Sgombro, and belonging to the Gritti family, fell

deeply in love with him, and Croce, either for fun or from taste, shewed

himself very compliant. Unfortunately the reserve commanded by common

decency was not a guest at their amorous feats, and the scandal became

so notorious that the Government was compelled to notify to Croce the

order to quit the city, and to seek his fortune in some other place.

 

Some time afterwards the infamous Sgombro seduced his own two sons, who

were both very young, and, unfortunately for him, he put the youngest in

such a state as to render necessary an application to a surgeon. The

infamous deed became publicly known, and the poor child confessed that

he had not had the courage to refuse obedience to his father. Such

obedience was, as a matter of course, not considered as forming a part

of the duties which a son owes to his father, and the State Inquisitors

sent the disgusting wretch to the citadel of Cataro, where he died after

one year of confinement.

 

It is well known that the air of Cataro is deadly, and that the Tribunal

sentences to inhale it only such criminals as are not judged publicly

for fear of exciting too deeply the general horror by the publication of

the trial.

 

It was to Cataro that the Council of Ten sent, fifteen years ago, the

celebrated advocate Cantarini, a Venetian nobleman, who by his eloquence

had made himself master of the great Council, and was on the point of

changing the constitution of the State. He died there at the end of the

year. As for his accomplices, the Tribunal thought that it was enough to

punish the four or five leaders, and to pretend not to know the others,

who through fear of punishment returned silently to their allegiance.

 

That Sgombro, of whom I spoke before, had a charming wife who is still

alive, I believe. Her name was Cornelia Gitti; she was as celebrated by

her wit as by her beauty, which she kept in spite of her years. Having

recovered her liberty through the death of her husband, she knew better

than to make herself a second time the prisoner of the Hymenean god; she

loved her independence too much; but as she loved pleasure too, she

accepted the homage of the lovers who pleased her taste.

 

One Monday, towards the end of July, my servant woke me at day-break to

tell me that Laura wished to speak to me. I foresaw some misfortune, and

ordered the servant to shew her in immediately. These are the contents

of the letter which she handed to me:

 

"My dearest, a misfortune has befallen me last evening, and it makes me

very miserable because I must keep it a secret from everyone in the

convent. I am suffering from a very severe loss of blood, and I do not

know what to do, having but very little linen. Laura tells me I shall

require a great deal of it if the flow of blood continues. I can take no

one into my confidence but you, and I entreat you to send me as much

linen as you can. You see that I have been compelled to make a

confidante of Laura, who is the only person allowed to enter my room at

all times. If I should die, my dear husband, everybody in the convent

would, of course, know the cause of my death; but I think of you, and I

shudder. What will you do in your grief? Ah, darling love! what a pity!"

 

I dressed myself hurriedly, plying Laura with questions all the time.

She told me plainly that it was a miscarriage, and that it was necessary

to act with great discretion in order to save the reputation of my young

friend; that after all she required nothing but plenty of linen, and

that it would be nothing. Commonplace words of consolation, which did

not allay the fearful anxiety under which I was labouring. I went out

with Laura, called on a Jew from whom I bought a quantity of sheets and

two hundred napkins, and, putting it all in a large bag, I repaired with

her to Muran. On our way there I wrote in pencil to my sweetheart,

telling her to have entire confidence in Laura, and assuring her that I

would not leave Muran until all danger had passed. Before we landed,

Laura told me that, in order not to be remarked, I had better conceal

myself in her house. At any other time it would have been shutting up

the wolf in the sheep-fold. She left me in a miserable-looking small

room on the ground floor, and concealing about herself as much linen as

she could she hurried to her patient, whom she had not seen since the

previous evening. I was in hopes that she would find her out of danger,

and I longed to see her come back with that good news.

 

She was absent about one hour, and when she returned her looks were sad.

She told me that my poor friend, having lost a great deal of blood

during the night, was in bed in a very weak state, and that all we could

do was to pray to God for her, because, if the flooding of the blood did

not stop soon, she could not possibly live twenty-four hours.

 

When I saw the linen which she had concealed under her clothes to bring

it out, I could not disguise my horror, and I thought the sight would

kill me. I fancied myself in a slaughter-house! Laura, thinking of

consoling me, told me that I could rely upon the secret being well kept.

 

"Ah! what do I care!" I exclaimed. "Provided she lives, let the whole

world know that she is my wife!"

 

At any other time, the foolishness of poor Laura would have made me

laugh; but in such a sad moment I had neither the inclination nor the

courage to be merry.

 

"Our dear patient," added Laura, "smiled as she was reading your letter,

and she said that, with you so near her, she was certain not to die."

 

Those words did me good, but a man needs so little to console him or to

soothe his grief.

 

"When the nuns are at their dinner," said Laura, "I will go back to the

convent with as much linen as I can conceal about me, and in the mean

time I am going to wash all this."

 

"Has she had any visitors?"

 

"Oh, yes! all the convent; but no one has any suspicion of the truth."

 

"But in such hot weather as this she can have only a very light blanket

over her, and her visitors must remark the great bulk of the napkins."

 

"There is no fear of that, because she is sitting up in her bed."

 

"What does she eat?"

 

"Nothing, for she must not eat."