the memories of casanova 112

the memories of casanova 112

The opening was at

least eighteen inches wide, and a man of my size could easily have got

through it. The countess sat opposite the nun, and I took my seat a

little on one side so as to be able to observe quietly and at my ease

one of the most beautiful women that it was possible to see. I had no

doubt whatever of her being the person mentioned by my dear C---- C----

as teaching her French. Admiration kept me in a sort of ecstacy, and I

never heard one word of their conversation; the beautiful nun, far from

speaking to me, did not even condescend to honour me with one look. She

was about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, and the shape of her

face was most beautiful. Her figure was much above the ordinary height,

her complexion rather pale, her appearance noble, full of energy, but at

the same time reserved and modest; her eyes, large and full, were of a

lovely blue; her countenance was soft and cheerful; her fine lips seemed

to breathe the most heavenly voluptuousness, and her teeth were two rows

of the most brilliant enamel. Her head-dress did not allow me to see her

hair, but if she had any I knew by the colour of her eyebrows that it

was of a beautiful light brown. Her hand and her arm, which I could see

as far as the elbow, were magnificent; the chisel of Praxiteles never

carved anything more grace fully rounded and plump, I was not sorry to

have refused the two rendezvous which had been offered to me by the

beauty, for I was sure of possessing her in a few days, and it was a

pleasure for me to lay my desires at her feet. I longed to find myself

alone with her near that grating, and I would have considered it an

insult to her if, the very next day, I had not come to tell her how

fully I rendered to her charms the justice they deserved. She was

faithful to her determination not to look at me once, but after all I

was pleased with her reserve. All at once the two friends lowered their

voices, and out of delicacy I withdrew further. Their private

conversation lasted about a quarter of an hour, during which I pretended

to be intently looking at a painting; then they kissed one another again

by the same process as at the beginning of the interview; the nun closed

the opening, turned her back on us, and disappeared without casting one

glance in my direction.

 

As we were on our way back to Venice, the countess, tired perhaps of our

silence, said to me, with a smile,

 

"M---- M---- is beautiful and very witty."

 

"I have seen her beauty, and I believe in her wit."

 

"She did not address one word to you."

 

"I had refused to be introduced to her, and she punished me by

pretending not to know that I was present."

 

The countess made no answer, and we reached her house without exchanging

another word. At her door a very ceremonious curtesy, with these words,

"Adieu, sir!" warned me that I was not to go any further. I had no wish

to do so, and went away dreaming and wondering at the singularity of the

adventure, the end of which I longed to see.

 

 

 

 

 

EPISODE 8 -- CONVENT AFFAIRS

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVI

 

 

Countess Coronini--A Lover's Pique--Reconciliation--The First Meeting--A

Philosophical Parenthesis

 

My beautiful nun had not spoken to me, and I was glad of it, for I was

so astonished, so completely under the spell of her beauty, that I might

have given her a very poor opinion of my intelligence by the rambling

answers which I should very likely have given to her questions. I knew

her to be certain that she had not to fear the humiliation of a refusal

from me, but I admired her courage in running the risk of it in her

position. I could hardly understand her boldness, and I could not

conceive how she contrived to enjoy so much liberty. A casino at Muran!

the possibility of going to Venice to sup with a young man! It was all

very surprising, and I decided in my own mind that she had an

acknowledged lover whose pleasure it was to make her happy by satisfying

her caprices. It is true that such a thought was rather unpleasant to my

pride, but there was too much piquancy in the adventure, the heroine of

it was too attractive, for me to be stopped by any considerations. I saw

very well that I was taking the high road to become unfaithful to my

dear C---- C----, or rather that I was already so in thought and will,

but I must confess that, in spite of all my love for that charming

child, I felt no qualms of conscience. It seemed to me that an

infidelity of that sort, if she ever heard of it, would not displease

her, for that short excursion on strange ground would only keep me alive

and in good condition for her, because it would save me from the

weariness which was surely killing me.

 

I had been presented to the celebrated Countess Coronini by a nun, a

relative of M. Dandolo. That countess, who had been very handsome and

was very witty, having made up her mind to renounce the political

intrigues which had been the study of her whole life, had sought a

retreat in the Convent of St. Justine, in the hope of finding in that

refuge the calm which she wanted, and which her disgust of society had

rendered necessary to her. As she had enjoyed a very great reputation,

she was still visited at the convent by all the foreign ambassadors and

by the first noblemen of Venice; inside of the walls of her convent the

countess was acquainted with everything that happened in the city. She

always received me very kindly, and, treating me as a young man, she

took pleasure in giving me, every time I called on her, very agreeable

lessons in morals. Being quite certain to find out from her, with a

little manoeuvering, something concerning M---- M----, I decided on

paying her a visit the day after I had seen the beautiful nun.

 

The countess gave me her usual welcome, and, after the thousand nothings

which it is the custom to utter in society before anything worth saying

is spoken, I led the conversation up to the convents of Venice. We spoke

of the wit and influence of a nun called Celsi, who, although ugly, had

an immense credit everywhere and in everything. We mentioned afterwards

the young and lovely Sister Michali, who had taken the veil to prove to

her mother that she was superior to her in intelligence and wit. After

speaking of several other nuns who had the reputation of being addicted

to gallantry, I named M---- M----, remarking that most likely she

deserved that reputation likewise, but that she was an enigma. The

countess answered with a smile that she was not an enigma for everybody,

although she was necessarily so for most people.

 

"What is incomprehensible," she said, "is the caprice that she took

suddenly to become a nun, being handsome, rich, free, well-educated,

full of wit, and, to my knowledge, a Free-thinker. She took the veil

without any reason, physical or moral; it was a mere caprice."

 

"Do you believe her to be happy, madam?"

 

"Yes, unless she has repented her decision, or if she does not repent it

some day. But if ever she does, I think she will be wise enough never to

say so to anyone."

 

Satisfied by the mysterious air of the countess that M---- M---- had a

lover, I made up my mind not to trouble myself about it, and having put

on my mask I went to Muran in the afternoon. When I reached the gate of

the convent I rang the bell, and with an anxious heart I asked for M----

M---- in the name of Madame de S----. The small parlour being closed,

the attendant pointed out to me the one in which I had to go. I went in,

took off my mask, and sat down waiting for my divinity.

 

My heart was beating furiously; I was waiting with great impatience; yet

that expectation was not without charm, for I dreaded the beginning of

the interview. An hour passed pretty rapidly, but I began then to find

the time rather long, and thinking that, perhaps, the attendant had not

rightly understood me, I rang the bell, and enquired whether notice of

my visit had being given to Sister M---- M----. A voice answered

affirmatively. I took my seat again, and a few minutes afterwards an

old, toothless nun came in and informed me that Sister M---- M---- was

engaged for the whole day. Without giving me time to utter a single

word, the woman left the parlour. This was one of those terrible moments

to which the man who worships at the shrine of the god of love is

exposed! They are indeed cruel moments; they bring fearful sorrow, they

may cause death.

 

Feeling myself disgraced, my first sensation was utter contempt for

myself, an inward despair which was akin to rage; the second was

disdainful indignation against the nun, upon whom I passed the severe

judgment which I thought she deserved, and which was the only way I had

to soothe my grief. Such behaviour proclaimed her to be the most

impudent of women, and entirely wanting in good sense; for the two

letters she had written to me were quite enough to ruin her character if

I had wished to revenge myself, and she evidently could not expect

anything else from me. She must have been mad to set at defiance my

revengeful feelings, and I should certainly have thought that she was

insane if I had not heard her converse with the countess.

 

Time, they say, brings good counsel; it certainly brings calm, and cool

reflection gives lucidity to the mind. At last I persuaded myself that

what had occurred was after all in no way extraordinary, and that I

would certainly have considered it at first a very common occurrence if

I had not been dazzled by the wonderful beauty of the nun, and blinded

by my own vanity. As a very natural result I felt that I was at liberty

to laugh at my mishap, and that nobody could possibly guess whether my

mirth was genuine or only counterfeit. Sophism is so officious!

 

But, in spite of all my fine arguments, I still cherished the thought of

revenge; no debasing element, however, was to form part of it, and being

determined not to leave the person who had been guilty of such a bad

practical joke the slightest cause of triumph, I had the courage not to

shew any vexation. She had sent word to me that she was engaged; nothing

more natural; the part I had to play was to appear indifferent. "Most

likely she will not be engaged another time," I said to myself, "but I

defy her to catch me in the snare again. I mean to shew her that I only

laugh at her uncivil behaviour." Of course I intended to send back her

letters, but not without the accompaniment of a billet-doux, the

gallantry of which was not likely to please her.

 

The worse part of the affair for me was to be compelled to go to her

church; because, supposing her not to be aware of my going there for C--

-- C----, she might imagine that the only object of my visits was to

give her the opportunity of apologizing for her conduct and of

appointing a new meeting. I wanted her to entertain no doubt of my utter

contempt for her person, and I felt certain that she had proposed the

other meetings in Venice and at the casino of Muran only to deceive me more easily.