the memories of casanova 110

the memories of casanova 110

Soon afterwards Laura went out, and I followed her. I called upon a

physician, where I wasted my time and my money, in order to get from him

a long prescription which was useless, for it would have put all the

convent in possession of the secret, or, to speak more truly, her secret

would have been known to the whole world, for a secret known to a nun

soon escapes out of the convent's walls. Besides, the physician of the

convent himself would most likely have betrayed it through a spirit of

revenge.

 

I returned sadly to my miserable hole in Laura's house. Half an hour

afterwards she came to me, crying bitterly, and she placed in my hands

this letter, which was scarcely legible:

 

"I have not strength enough to write to you, my darling; I am getting

weaker and weaker; I am losing all my blood, and I am afraid there is no

remedy. I abandon myself to the will of God, and I thank Him for having

saved me from dishonour. Do not make yourself unhappy. My only

consolation is to know that you are near me. Alas! if I could see you

but for one moment I would die happy."

 

The sight of a dozen napkins brought by Laura made me shudder, and the

good woman imagined that she afforded me some consolation by telling me

that as much linen could be soaked with a bottle of blood. My mind was

not disposed to taste such consolation; I was in despair, and I

addressed to myself the fiercest reproaches, upbraiding myself as the

cause of the death of that adorable creature. I threw myself on the bed,

and remained there, almost stunned, for more than six hours, until

Laura's return from the convent with twenty napkins entirely soaked.

Night had come on, and she could not go back to her patient until

morning. I passed a fearful night without food, without sleep, looking

upon myself with horror, and refusing all the kind attentions that

Laura's daughters tried to shew me.

 

It was barely daylight when Laura same to announce to me, in the saddest

tone, that my poor friend did not bleed any more. I thought she was

dead, and I screamed loudly,

 

"Oh! she is no more!"

 

"She is still breathing, sir; but I fear she will not outlive this day,

for she is worn out. She can hardly open her eyes, and her pulse is

scarcely to be felt."

 

A weight was taken off me; I was instinctively certain that my darling

was saved.

 

"Laura," I said, "this is not bad news; provided the flooding has ceased

entirely, all that is necessary is to give her some light food."

 

"A physician has been sent for. He will prescribe whatever is right, but

to tell you the truth I have not much hope."

 

"Only give me the assurance that she is still alive."

 

"Yes, she is, I assure you; but you understand very well that she will

not tell the truth to the doctor, and God knows what he will order. I

whispered to her not to take anything, and she understood me."

 

"You are the best of women. Yes, if she does not die from weakness

before to-morrow, she is saved; nature and love will have been her

doctors."

 

"May God hear you! I shall be back by twelve."

 

"Why not before?"

 

"Because her room will be full of people."

 

Feeling the need of hope, and almost dead for want of food, I ordered

some dinner, and prepared a long letter for my beloved mistress, to be

delivered to her when she was well enough to read it. The instants given

to repentance are very sad, and I was truly a fit subject for pity. I

longed to see Laura again, so as to hear what the doctor had said. I had

very good cause for laughing at all sorts of oracles, yet through some

unaccountable weakness I longed for that of the doctor; I wanted, before

all, to find it a propitious one.

 

Laura's young daughters waited upon me at dinner; I could not manage to

swallow a mouthful, but it amused me to see the three sisters devour my

dinner at the first invitation I gave them. The eldest sister, a very

fine girl, never raised her large eyes once towards me. The two younger

ones seemed to me disposed to be amiable, but if I looked at them it was

only to feed my despair and the cruel pangs of repentance.

 

At last Laura, whom I expected anxiously, came back; she told me that

the dear patient remained in the same state of debility; the doctor had

been greatly puzzled by her extreme weakness because he did not know to

what cause to attribute it. Laura added,

 

"He has ordered some restoratives and a small quantity of light broth;

if she can sleep, he answers for her life. He has likewise desired her

to have someone to watch her at night, and she immediately pointed her

finger at me, as if she wished me to undertake that office. Now, I

promise you never to leave her either night or day, except to bring you

news."

 

I thanked her, assuring her that I would reward her generously. I heard

with great pleasure that her mother had paid her a visit, and that she

had no suspicion of the real state of things, for she had lavished on

her the most tender caresses.

 

Feeling more at ease I gave six sequins to Laura, one to each of her

daughters, and ate something for my supper: I then laid myself down on

one of the wretched beds in the room. As soon as the two younger sisters

saw me in bed, they undressed themselves without ceremony, and took

possession of the second bed which was close by mine. Their innocent

confidence pleased me. The eldest sister, who most likely had more

practical experience, retired to the adjoining room; she had a lover to

whom she was soon to be married. This time, however, I was not possessed

with the evil spirit of concupiscence, and I allowed innocence to sleep

peacefully without attempting anything against it.

 

Early the next morning Laura was the bearer of good news. She came in

with a cheerful air to announce that the beloved patient had slept well,

and that she was going back soon to give her some soup. I felt an almost

maddening joy in listening to her, and I thought the oracle of

AEsculapius a thousand times more reliable than that of Apollo. But it

was not yet time to exult in our victory, for my poor little friend had

to recover her strength and to make up for all the blood she had lost;

that could be done only by time and careful nursing. I remained another

week at Laura's house, which I left only after my dear C---- C---- had

requested me to do so in a letter of four pages. Laura, when I left,

wept for joy in seeing herself rewarded by the gift of all the fine

linen I had bought for my C---- C----, and her daughters were weeping

likewise, most probably because, during the ten days I had spent near

them, they had not obtained a single kiss from me.

 

After my return to Venice, I resumed my usual habits; but with a nature

like mine how could I possibly remain satisfied without positive love?

My only pleasure was to receive a letter from my dear recluse every

Wednesday, who advised me to wait patiently rather than to attempt

carrying her off. Laura assured me that she had become more lovely than

ever, and I longed to see her. An opportunity of gratifying my wishes

soon offered itself, and I did not allow it to escape. There was to be a

taking of the veil--a ceremony which always attracts a large number of

persons. On those occasions the nuns always received a great many

visitors, and I thought that the boarders were likely to be in the

parlour on such an occasion. I ran no risk of being remarked any more

than any other person, for I would mingle with the crowd. I therefore

went without saying anything about it to Laura, and without acquainting

my dear little wife of my intentions. I thought I would fall, so great

was my emotion, when I saw her within four yards from me, and looking at

me as if she had been in an ecstatic state. I thought her taller and

more womanly, and she certainly seemed to me more beautiful than before.

I saw no one but her; she never took her eyes off me, and I was the last

to leave that place which on that day struck me as being the temple of

happiness.

 

Three days afterwards I received a letter from her. She painted with

such vivid colours the happiness she had felt in seeing me, that I made

up my mind to give her that pleasure as often as I could. I answered at

once that I would attend mass every Sunday at the church of her convent.

It cost me nothing: I could not see her, but I knew that she saw me

herself, and her happiness made me perfectly happy. I had nothing to

fear, for it was almost impossible that anyone could recognize me in the

church which was attended only by the people of Muran.

 

After hearing two or three masses, I used to take a gondola, the

gondolier of which could not feel any curiosity about me. Yet I kept on

my guard, for I knew that the father of C---- C---- wanted her to forget

me, and I had no doubt he would have taken her away, God knew where if

he had had the slightest suspicion of my being acquainted with the place

where he had confined her.

 

Thus I was reasoning in my fear to lose all opportunity of corresponding

with my dear C---- C----, but I did not yet know the disposition and the

shrewdness of the sainted daughters of the Lord. I did not suppose that

there was anything remarkable in my person, at least for the inmates of

a convent; but I was yet a novice respecting the curiosity of women, and

particularly of unoccupied hearts; I had soon occasion to be convinced.

 

I had executed my Sunday manoeuvering only for a month or five weeks,

when my dear C---- C---- wrote me jestingly that I had become a living

enigma for all the convent, boarders and nuns, not even excepting the

old ones. They all expected me anxiously; they warned each other of my

arrival, and watched me taking the holy water. They remarked that I

never cast a glance toward the grating, behind which were all the

inmates of the convent; that I never looked at any of the women coming

in or going out of the church. The old nuns said that I was certainly

labouring under some deep sorrow, of which I had no hope to be cured

except through the protection of the Holy Virgin, and the young ones

asserted that I was either melancholy or misanthropic.

 

My dear wife, who knew better than the others, and had no occasion to

lose herself in suppositions, was much amused, and she entertained me by

sending me a faithful report of it all. I wrote to her that, if she had

any fear of my being recognized I would cease my Sunday visits to the

church. She answered that I could not impose upon her a more cruel

privation, and she entreated me to continue my visits.