the memories of casanova 134

the memories of casanova 134

The whole of Italy had reason to rejoice, for the treaty guarded that fair

land from becoming the theatre of war on the slightest difference which

might arise between the two Powers. What astonished the most acute was

that this wonderful treaty was conceived and carried out by a young

ambassador who had hitherto been famed only as a wit. The first

foundations had been laid in 1750 by Madame de Pompadour, Count Canes

(who was created a prince), and M. l'Abbe de Bernis, who was not known

till the following year, when the king made him ambassador to Venice.

The House of Bourbon and the House of Hapsburg had been foes for two

hundred and forty years when this famous treaty was concluded, but it

only lasted for forty years, and it is not likely that any treaty will

last longer between two courts so essentially opposed to one another.

 

The Abbe de Bernis was created minister for foreign affairs some time

after the ratification of the treaty; three years after he re-

established the parliament, became a cardinal, was disgraced, and

finally sent to Rome, where he died. 'Mors ultimo linea rerum est'.

 

Affairs fell out as I had foreseen, for nine months after he left Venice

he conveyed to M---- M---- the news of his recall, though he did it in

the most delicate manner. Nevertheless, M---- M---- felt the blow so

severely that she would very possibly have succumbed, had I not been

preparing her for it in every way I could think of M. de Bernis sent me

all instructions.

 

He directed that all the contents of the casino should be sold and the

proceeds given to M---- M----, with the exception of the books and

prints which the housekeeper was ordered to bring to Paris. It was a

nice breviary for a cardinal, but would to God they had nothing worse!

 

Whilst M---- M---- abandoned herself to grief I carried out the orders

of M. de Bernis, and by the middle of January we had no longer a casino.

She kept by her two thousand sequins and her pearls, intending to sell

them later on to buy herself an annuity.

 

We were now only able to see each other at the grating; and soon, worn

with grief, she fell dangerously ill, and on the 2nd of February I

recognized in her features the symptoms of approaching death. She sent

me her jewel-case, with all her diamonds and nearly all her money, all

the scandalous books she possessed, and all her letters, telling me that

if she did not die I was to return her the whole, but that all belonged

to me if, as she thought, she should succumb to the disease. She also

told me that C---- C---- was aware of her state, and asked me to take

pity on her and write to her, as my letters were her only comfort, and

that she hoped to have strength to read them till her latest breath.

 

I burst into tears, for I loved her passionately, and I promised her to

come and live in Muran until she recovered her health.

 

Having placed the property in a gondola, I went to the Bragadin Palace

to deposit it, and then returned to Muran to get Laura to find me a

furnished room where I could live as I liked. "I know of a good room,

with meals provided," she said; "you will be quite comfortable and will

get it cheaply, and if you like to pay in advance, you need not even say

who you are. The old man to whom the house belongs lives on the ground

floor; he will give you all the keys and if you like you need see no

one."

 

She gave me the address, and I went there on the spot, and having found

everything to my liking I paid a month in advance and the thing was

done. It was a little house at the end of a blind alley abutting on the

canal. I returned to Laura's house to tell her that I wanted a servant

to get my food and to make my bed, and she promised to get me one by the

next day.

 

Having set all in order for my new lodging, I returned to Venice and

packed my mails as if I were about to make a long journey. After supper

I took leave of M. de Bragadin and of his two friends, telling them that

I was going to be away for several weeks on important business.

 

Next day, going to my new room, I was surprised to find there Tonine,

Laura's daughter, a pretty girl not more than fifteen years old, who

told me with a blush, but with more spirit than I gave her credit for,

that she would serve me as well as her mother would have done.

 

I was in too much distress to thank Laura for this pretty present, and I

even determined that her daughter should not stay in my service. We know

how much such resolutions are commonly worth. In the meanwhile I was

kind to the girl: "I am sure," I said, "of your goodwill, but I must

talk to your mother. I must be alone," I added, "as I have to write all

day, and I shall not take anything till the evening." She then gave me a

letter, begging pardon for not having given it me sooner. "You must

never forget to deliver messages," I said, "for if you had waited any

longer before bringing me this letter, it might have had the most

serious consequences." She blushed, begged pardon, and went out of the

room. The letter was from C---- C----, who told me that her friend was

in bed, and that the doctor had pronounced her illness to be fever. I

passed the rest of the day in putting my room in order, and in writing

to C---- C---- and her suffering friend.

 

Towards evening Tonine brought in the candles, and told me that my

supper was ready. "Follow me," I said. Seeing that she had only laid

supper for one--a pleasing proof of her modesty, I told her to get

another knife and fork, as I wished her always to take her meals with

me. I can give no account of my motives. I only wished to be kind to

her, and I did everything in good faith. By and by, reader, we shall see

whether this is not one of the devices by which the devil compasses his

ends.

 

Not having any appetite, I ate little, but I thought everything good

with the exception of the wine; but Tonine promised to get some better

by the next day, and when supper was over she went to sleep in the ante-

room.

 

After sealing my letters, wishing to know whether the outer door was

locked, I went out and saw Tonine in bed, sleeping peacefully, or

pretending to do so. I might have suspected her thoughts, but I had

never been in a similar situation, and I measured the extremity of my

grief by the indifference with which I looked at this girl; she was

pretty, but for all that I felt that neither she nor I ran any risk.

 

Next day, waking very early, I called her, and she came in neatly

dressed. I gave her my letter to C---- C----, which enclosed the letter

to M---- M----, telling her to take it to her mother and then to return

to make my coffee.

 

"I shall dine at noon, Tonine," I said, "take care to get what is

necessary in good time."

 

"Sir, I prepared yesterday's supper myself, and if you like I can cook

all your meals."

 

"I am satisfied with your abilities, go on, and here is a sequin for

expenses."

 

"I still have a hundred and twenty sous remaining from the one you gave

me yesterday, and that will be enough."

 

"No, they are for yourself, and I shall give you as much every day."

 

Her delight was so great that I could not prevent her covering my hand

with kisses. I took care to draw it back and not to kiss her in return,

for I felt as if I should be obliged to laugh, and this would have

dishonoured my grief.

 

The second day passed like the first. Tonine was glad that I said no

more about speaking to her mother, and drew the conclusion that her

services were agreeable to me. Feeling tired and weak, and fearing that

I should not wake early enough to send the letter to the convent, but

not wishing to rouse Tonine if she were asleep, I called her softly. She

rose immediately and came into my room with nothing on but a slight

petticoat. Pretending to see nothing, I gave her my letter, and told her

to take it to her mother in the morning before she came into my room.

She went out, saying that my instructions should be carried out, but as

soon as she was gone I could not resist saying to myself that she was

very pretty; and I felt both sad and ashamed at the reflection that this

girl could very easily console me. I hugged my grief, and I determined

to separate myself from a being who made me forget it.

 

"In the morning," I said, "I will tell Laura to get me something less

seducing;" but the night brought counsel, and in the morning I put on

the armour of sophism, telling myself that my weakness was no fault of

the girl's, and that it would therefore be unjust to punish her for it.

We shall see, dear reader, how all this ended.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXIII

 

 

Continues the Preceding Chapter--M. M. Recovers--I Return to Venice--

Tonine Consoles Me--Decrease of My Love For M. M.--Doctor Righelini--

Curious Conversation With Him--How This Conversation Affected M. M.--Mr.

Murray Undeceived and Avenged

 

Tontine had what is called tact and common sense, and thinking these

qualities were required in our economy she behaved with great delicacy,

not going to bed before receiving my letters, and never coming into my

room except in a proper dress, and all this pleased me. For a fortnight

M---- M---- was so ill that I expected every moment to hear the news of

her death. On Shrove Tuesday C---- C---- wrote that her friend was not

strong enough to read my letter, and that she was going to receive

'extreme unction'. This news so shocked me that I could not rise, and

passed the whole day in weeping and writing, Tonine not leaving me till

midnight. I could not sleep. On Ash Wednesday I got a letter, in which

C---- C---- told me that the doctor had no hopes for her friend, and

that he only gave her a fortnight to live. A low fever was wasting her

away, her weakness was extreme, and she could scarcely swallow a little

broth. She had also the misfortune to be harassed by her confessor, who

made her foretaste all the terrors of death. I could only solace my

grief by writing, and Tonine now and again made bold to observe that I

was cherishing my grief, and that it would be the death of me. I knew

myself that I was making my anguish more poignant, and that keeping to

my bed, continued writing, and no food, would finally drive me mad. I

had told my grief to poor Tonine, whose chief duty was to wipe away my

tears. She had compassion on me.

 

A few days later, after assuring C---- C---- that if our friend died I

should not survive her, I asked her to tell M---- M---- that if she

wanted me to take care of my life she must promise to let me carry her

off on her recovery.

 

"I have," I said, "four thousand sequins and her diamonds, which are

worth six thousand; we should, therefore, have a sufficient sum to

enable us to live honourably in any part of Europe."

 

C---- C---- wrote to me on the following day, and said that my mistress,

after hearing my letter read, had fallen into a kind of convulsion, and,

becoming delirious, she talked incessantly in French for three whole

hours in a fashion which would have made all the nuns take to their

heels, if they had understood her. I was in despair, and was nearly

raving as wildly as my poor nun. Her delirium lasted three days, and as

soon as she got back her reason she charged her young friend to tell me

that she was sure to get well if I promised to keep to my word, and to carry her off as soon as her health would allow. I hastened to reply that if I lived she might be sure my promise would be fulfilled.