the memories of casanova 141

the memories of casanova 141

"And supposing the news vexes her?"

 

"So much the better. Will you do it for me? it's the first favour I have

asked of you."

 

"I promise to do so."

 

After this rapid dialogue we took breakfast, and then, perfectly agreed,

we went to bed, rather as if we were about to sacrifice to Hymen than to

love.

 

The game was new to Barberine, and her transports, her green notions--

which she told me openly--her inexperience, or rather her awkwardness,

enchanted me. I seemed for the first time to pluck the fruit of the tree

of knowledge, and never had I tasted fruit so delicious. My little maid

would have been ashamed to let me see how the first thorn hurt her, and

to convince me that she only smelt the rose, she strove to make me think

she experienced more pleasure than is possible in a first trial, always

more or less painful. She was not yet a big girl, the roses on her

swelling breasts were as yet but buds, and she was a woman only in her

heart.

 

After more than one assault delivered and sustained with spirit, we got

up for dinner, and after we had refreshed ourselves we mounted once more

the altar of love, where we remained till the evening. Laura found us

dressed and well pleased with each other on her return. I made Barberine

another present of twenty sequins, I swore to love her always, and went

on my way. At the time I certainly meant to keep to my oath, but that

which destiny had in store for me could not be reconciled with these

promises which welled forth from my soul in a moment of excitement.

 

The next morning Righelini took me to see the lodging he had spoken to

me about. I liked it and took it on the spot, paying the first quarter

in advance. The house belonged to a widow with two daughters, the elder

of whom had just been blooded. Righelini was her doctor, and had treated

her for nine months without success. As he was going to pay her a visit

I went in with him, and found myself in the presence of a fine waxen

statue. Surprise drew from me these words:

 

"She is pretty, but the sculptor should give her some colour."

 

On which the statue smiled in a manner which would have been charming if

her lips had but been red.

 

"Her pallor," said Righelini, "will not astonish you when I tell you she

has just been blooded for the hundred and fourth time."

 

I gave a very natural gesture of surprise.

 

This fine girl had attained the age of eighteen years without

experiencing the monthly relief afforded by nature, the result being

that she felt a deathly faintness three or four times a week, and the

only relief was to open the vein.

 

"I want to send her to the country," said the doctor, "where pure and

wholesome air, and, above all, more exercise, will do her more good than

all the drugs in the world."

 

After I had been told that my bed should be made ready by the evening, I

went away with Righelini, who told me that the only cure for the girl

would be a good strong lover.

 

"But my dear doctor," said I, "can't you make your own prescription?"

 

"That would be too risky a game, for I might find myself compelled to

marry her, and I hate marriage like the devil."

 

Though I was no better inclined towards marriage than the doctor, I was

too near the fire not to get burnt, and the reader will see in the next

chapter how I performed the miraculous cure of bringing the colours of

health into the cheeks of this pallid beauty.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXV

 

 

The Fair Invalid I Cure Her--A Plot Formed to Ruin Me--What Happened at

the House of the Young Countess Bonafede--The Erberia--Domiciliary

Visit--My Conversation with M. de Bragadin--I Am Arrested by Order of

the State Inquisitors.

 

After leaving Dr. Righelini I went to sup with M. de Bragadin, and gave

the generous and worthy old man a happy evening. This was always the

case; I made him and his two good friends happy whenever I took meals

with them.

 

Leaving them at an early hour, I went to my lodging and was greatly

surprised to find my bedroom balcony occupied. A young lady of an

exquisite figure rose as soon as she saw me, and gracefully asked me

pardon for the liberty she had taken.

 

"I am," she said, "the statue you saw this morning. We do not light the

candles in the evening for fear of attracting the gnats, but when you

want to go to bed we will shut the door and go away. I beg to introduce

you to my younger sister, my mother has gone to bed."

 

I answered her to the effect that the balcony was always at her service,

and that since it was still early I begged their permission to put on my

dressing-gown and to keep them company. Her conversation was charming;

she made me spend two most delightful hours, and did not leave me till

twelve o'clock. Her younger sister lighted me a candle, and as they went

they wished me a good night.

 

I lay down full of this pretty girl, and I could not believe that she

was really ill. She spoke to the point, she was cheerful, clever, and

full of spirits. I could not understand how it came to pass that she had

not been already cured in a town like Venice, if her cure was really

only to be effected in the manner described by Dr. Righelini; for in

spite of her pallor she seemed to me quite fair enough to charm a lover,

and I believed her to be spirited enough to determine to take the most

agreeable medicine a doctor can prescribe.

 

In the morning I rang the bell as I was getting up, and the younger

sister came into my room, and said that as they kept no servant she had

come to do what I wanted. I did not care to have a servant when I was

not at M. de Bragadin's, as I found myself more at liberty to do what I

liked. After she had done me some small services, I asked her how her

sister was.

 

"Very well," said she, "for her pale complexion is not an illness, and

she only suffers when her breath fails her. She has a very good

appetite, and sleeps as well as I do."

 

"Whom do I hear playing the violin?"

 

"It's the dancing master giving my sister a lesson."

 

I hurried over my dressing that I might see her; and I found her

charming, though her old dancing master allowed her to turn in her toes.

All that this young and beautiful girl wanted was the Promethean spark,

the colour of life; her whiteness was too like snow, and was distressing

to look at.

 

The dancing master begged me to dance a minuet with his pupil, and I

assented, asking him to play larghissimo. "The signorina would find it

too tiring," said he; but she hastened to answer that she did not feel

weak, and would like to dance thus. She danced very well, but when we

had done she was obliged to throw herself in a chair. "In future, my

dear master," said she, "I will only dance like that, for I think the

rapid motion will do me good."

 

When the master was gone, I told her that her lessons were too short,

and that her master was letting her get into bad habits. I then set her

feet, her shoulders, and her arms in the proper manner. I taught her how

to give her hand gracefully, to bend her knees in time; in fine, I gave

her a regular lesson for an hour, and seeing that she was getting rather

tired I begged her to sit down, and I went out to pay a visit to M. M.

 

I found her very sad, for C---- C----'s father was dead, and they had

taken her out of the convent to marry her to a lawyer. Before leaving C-

--- C---- had left a letter for me, in which she said that if I would

promise to marry her at some time suitable to myself, she would wait for

me, and refuse all other offers. I answered her straightforwardly that I

had no property and no prospects, that I left her free, advising her not

to refuse any offer which might be to her advantage.

 

In spite of this dismissal C---- C---- did not marry N---- till after my

flight from The Leads, when nobody expected to see me again in Venice. I

did not see her for nineteen years, and then I was grieved to find her a

widow, and poorly off. If I went to Venice now I should not marry her,

for at my age marriage is an absurdity, but I would share with her my

little all, and live with her as with a dear sister.

 

When I hear women talking about the bad faith and inconstancy of men,

and maintaining that when men make promises of eternal constancy they

are always deceivers, I confess that they are right, and join in their

complaints. Still it cannot be helped, for the promises of lovers are

dictated by the heart, and consequently the lamentations of women only

make me want to laugh. Alas! we love without heeding reason, and cease

to love in the same manner.

 

About this time I received a letter from the Abbe de Bernis, who wrote

also to M---- M----. He told me that I ought to do my utmost to make our

nun take a reasonable view of things, dwelling on the risks I should run

in carrying her off and bringing her to Paris, where all his influence

would be of no avail to obtain for us that safety so indispensable to

happiness. I saw M---- M----; we shewed each other our letters, she had

some bitter tears, and her grief pierced me to the heart. I still had a

great love for her in spite of my daily infidelities, and when I thought

of those moments in which I had seen her given over to voluptuousness I

could not help pitying her fate as I thought of the days of despair in

store for her. But soon after this an event happened which gave rise to

some wholesome reflections. One day, when I had come to see her, she

said,

 

"They have just been burying a nun who died of consumption the day

before yesterday in the odour of sanctity. She was called 'Maria

Concetta.' She knew you, and told C---- C---- your name when you used to

come to mass on feast days. C---- C---- begged her to be discreet, but

the nun told her that you were a dangerous man, whose presence should be

shunned by a young girl. C---- C---- told me all this after the mask of Pierrot."