The Complete Memoires of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
by
Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
Part 54 out of 70
interview, and that I had wished to keep the chair so as to shew her
that I could have her if I liked. I shewed him the letter, and he
advised me to accede to her request, if only for curiosity's sake.
I was in no hurry to see the creature while the marks on her face and
neck were still fresh, so I spent seven or eight days without making
up my mind to receive her. Goudar came every day, and told me of the
confabulations of these women who had made up their minds not to live
save by trickery.
He told me that the grandmother had taken the name of Anspergher
without having any right to it, as she was merely the mistress of a
worthy citizen of Berne, by whom she had four daughters; the mother
of the Charpillon was the youngest of the family, and, as she was
pretty and loose in her morals, the Government had exiled her with
her mother and sisters. They had then betaken themselves to Franche-
Comte, where they lived for some time on the Balm of Life. Here it
was that the Charpillon came into the world, her mother attributing
her to a Count de Boulainvilliers. The child grew up pretty, and the
family removed to Paris under the impression that it would be the
best market for such a commodity, but in the course of four years the
income from the Balm having dwindled greatly, the Charpillon being
still too young to be profitable, and debtors closing round them on
every side, they resolved to come to London.
He then proceeded to tell me of the various tricks and cheats which
kept them all alive. I found his narrative interesting enough then,
but the reader would find it dull, and I expect will be grateful for
my passing it over.
I felt that it was fortunate for me that I had Goudar, who introduced
me to all the most famous courtezans in London, above all to the
illustrious Kitty Fisher, who was just beginning to be fashionable.
He also introduced me to a girl of sixteen, a veritable prodigy of
beauty, who served at the bar of a tavern at which we took a bottle
of strong beer. She was an Irishwoman and a Catholic, and was named
Sarah. I should have liked to get possession of her, but Goudar had
views of his own on the subject, and carried her off in the course of
the next year. He ended by marrying her, and she was the Sara Goudar
who shone at Naples, Florence, Venice, and elsewhere. We shall hear
of her in four or five years, still with her husband. Goudar had
conceived the plan of making her take the place of Dubarry, mistress
of Louis XV., but a lettre de cachet compelled him to try elsewhere.
Ah! happy days of lettres de cachet, you have gone never to return!
The Charpillon waited a fortnight for me to reply, and then resolved
to return to the charge in person. This was no doubt the result of a
conference of the most secret kind, for I heard nothing of it from
Gondar.
She came to see my by herself in a sedan-chair, and I decided on
seeing her. I was taking my chocolate and I let her come in without
rising or offering her any breakfast. She asked me to give her some
with great modesty, and put up her face for me to give her a kiss,
but I turned my head away. However, she was not in the least
disconcerted.
"I suppose the marks of the blows you gave me make my face so
repulsive?"
"You lie; I never struck you."
"No, but your tiger-like claws have left bruises all over me. Look
here. No, you needn't be afraid that what you see may prove too
seductive; besides, it will have no novelty for you."
So saying the wretched creature let me see her body, on which some
livid marks were still visible.
Coward that I was! Why did I not look another way? I will tell you:
it was because she was so beautiful, and because a woman's charms are
unworthy of the name if they cannot silence reason. I affected only
to look at the bruises, but it was an empty farce. I blush for
myself; here was I conquered by a simple girl, ignorant of well nigh
everything. But she knew well enough that I was inhaling the poison
at every pore. All at once she dropped her clothes and came and sat
beside me, feeling sure that I should have relished a continuance of
the spectacle.
However, I made an effort and said, coldly, that it was all her own
fault.
"I know it is," said she, "for if I had been tractable as I ought to
have been, you would have been loving instead of cruel. But
repentance effaces sin, and I am come to beg pardon. May I hope to
obtain it?"
"Certainly; I am angry with you no longer, but I cannot forgive
myself. Now go, and trouble me no more."
"I will if you like, but there is something you have not heard, and I
beg you will listen to me a moment."
"As I have nothing to do you can say what you have got to say, I will
listen to you."
In spite of the coldness of my words, I was really profoundly
touched, and the worst of it was that I began to believe in the
genuineness of her motives.
She might have relieved herself of what she had to say in a quarter
of an hour, but by dint of tears, sighs, groans, digressions, and so
forth, she took two hours to tell me that her mother had made her
swear to pass the night as she had done. She ended by saying that
she would like to be mine as she had been M. Morosini's, to live with
me, and only to go out under my escort, while I might allow her a
monthly sum which she would hand over to her mother, who would, in
that case, leave her alone.
She dined with me, and it was in the evening that she made this
proposition. I suppose because she thought me ripe for another
cheat. I told her that it might be arranged, but that I should
prefer to settle with her mother, and that she would see me at their
house the following day, and this seemed to surprise her.
It is possible that the Charpillon would have granted me any favour
on that day, and then there would have been no question of deception
or resistance for the future. Why did I not press her? Because
sometimes love stupefies instead of quickens, and because I had been
in a way her judge, and I thought it would be base of me to revenge
myself on her by satisfying my amorous desires, and possibly because
I was a fool, as I have often been in the course of my existence.
She must have left me in a state of irritation, and no doubt she
registered a vow to revenge herself on me for the half-contemptuous
way in which I had treated her.
Goudar was astonished when he heard of her visit, and of the way in
which I had spent the day. I begged him to get me a small furnished
house, and in the evening I went to see the infamous woman in her own
house.
She was with her mother, and I laid my proposal before them.
"Your daughter will have a house at Chelsea," said I to the mother,
"where I can go and see her whenever I like, and also fifty guineas a
month to do what she likes with."
"I don't care what you give her a month," she replied, "but before I
let her leave my house she must give me the hundred guineas she was
to have had when she slept with you."
"It is your fault that she didn't have them; however, to cut the
matter short, she shall give them to you."
"And in the meanwhile, till you have found the house, I hope you will
come and see me."
"Yes."
The next day Goudar shewed me a pretty house at Chelsea, and I took
it, paying ten guineas, a month's rent, in advance, for which I
received a receipt. In the afternoon I concluded the bargain with
the mother, the Charpillon being present. The mother asked me to
give her the hundred guineas, and I did so, not fearing any
treachery, as nearly the whole of the girl's clothing was already at
Chelsea.
In due course we went to our country house. The Charpillon liked the
house immensely, and after a short talk we supped merrily together.
After supper we went to bed, and she granted me some slight
preliminary favours, but when I would have attained my end I found an
obstacle which I had not expected. She gave me some physiological
reasons for the circumstances, but not being a man to stop for so
little, I would have gone on, but she resisted, and yet with such
gentleness that I left her alone and went to sleep. I awoke sooner
than she did, and determined to see whether she had imposed on me; so
I raised her night-gown carefully, and took off her linen only to
find that I had been duped once more. This roused her, and she tried
to stop me, but it was too late. However, I gently chid her for the
trick, and feeling disposed to forgive it set about making up for
lost time, but she got on the high horse, and pretended to be hurt at
my taking her by surprise. I tried to calm her by renewed
tenderness, but the wretched creature only got more furious, and
would give me nothing. I left her alone, but I expressed my opinion
of her in pretty strong terms. The impudent slut honoured me with a
smile of disdain, and then beginning to dress herself she proceeded
to indulge in impertinent repartees. This made me angry, and I gave
her a box on the ears which stretched her at full length on the
floor. She shrieked, stamped her feet, and made a hideous uproar;
the landlord came up, and she began to speak to him in English, while
the blood gushed from her nose.
The man fortunately spoke Italian, and told me that she wanted to go
away, and advised me to let her do so, or she might make it awkward
for me, and he himself would be obliged to witness against me.
"Tell her to begone as fast as she likes," said I, "and to keep out
of my sight for ever."
She finished dressing, staunched the blood, and went off in a sedan-
chair, while I remained petrified, feeling that I did not deserve to
live, and finding her conduct utterly outrageous and
incomprehensible.
After an hour's consideration I decided on sending her back her
trunk, and then I went home and to bed, telling my servants I was not
at home to anyone.
I spent twenty-four hours in pondering over my wrongs, and at last my
reason told me that the fault was mine; I despised myself. I was on
the brink of suicide, but happily I escaped that fate.
I was just going out when Goudar came up and made me go in with him,
as he said he wanted to speak to me. After telling me that the
Charpillon had come home with a swollen cheek which prevented her
shewing herself, he advised me to abandon all claims on her or her
mother, or the latter would bring a false accusation against me which
might cost me my life. Those who know England, and especially London
will not need to be informed as to the nature of this accusation,
which is so easily brought in England; it will suffice to say that
through it Sodom was overwhelmed.
"The mother has engaged me to mediate," said Goudar, "and if you will
leave her alone, she will do you no harm."
I spent the day with him, foolishly complaining, and telling him that
he could assure the mother that I would take no proceedings against
her, but that I should like to know if she had the courage to receive
this assurance from my own lips.
"I will carry your message," said he, "but I pity you; for you are
going into their nets again, and will end in utter ruin."
I fancied they would be ashamed to see me; but I was very much
mistaken, for Goudar came back laughing, and said the mother
expressed a hope that I should always be the friend of the family.
I ought to have refused to have anything more to do with them, but I
had not the strength to play the man. I called at Denmark Street the
same evening, and spent an hour without uttering a syllable. The
Charpillon sat opposite to me, with eyes lowered to a piece of
embroidery, while from time to time she pretended to wipe away a tear
as she let me see the ravages I had worked on her cheek.
I saw her every day and always in silence till the fatal mark had
disappeared, but during these mad visits the poison of desire was so
instilled into my veins that if she had known my state of mind she
might have despoiled me of all I possessed for a single favour.
When she was once more as beautiful as ever I felt as if I must die
if I did not hold her in my arms again, and I bought a magnificent
pier-glass and a splendid breakfast service in Dresden china, and
sent them to her with an amorous epistle which must have made her
think me either the most extravagant or the most cowardly of men.
She wrote in answer that she would expect me to sup with her in her
room, that she might give me the tenderest proofs of her gratitude.
This letter sent me completely mad with joy, and in a paroxysm of
delight I resolved to surrender to her keeping the two bills of
exchange which Bolomee had given me, and which gave me power to send
her mother and aunts to prison.
Full of the happiness that awaited me, and enchanted with my own
idiotic heroism, I went to her in the evening. She received me in
the parlour with her mother, and I was delighted to see the pier-
glass over the mantel, and the china displayed on a little table.
After a hundred words of love and tenderness she asked me to come up
to her room, and her mother wished us good night. I was overwhelmed
with joy. After a delicate little supper I took out the bills of
exchange, and after telling her their history gave them up to her, to
shew that I had no intention of avenging myself on her mother and
aunts. I made her promise that she would never part with them, and
she said she would never do so, and with many expressions of
gratitude and wonder at my generosity she locked them up with great
care.
Then I thought it was time to give her some marks of my passion, and
I found her kind; but when I would have plucked the fruit, she
clasped me to her arms, crossed her legs, and began to weep bitterly.
I made an effort, and asked her if she would be the same when we were
in bed. She sighed, and after a moment's pause, replied, "Yes."
For a quarter of an hour I remained silent and motionless, as if
petrified. At last I rose with apparent coolness, and took my cloak
and sword.
"What!" said she, "are you not going to spend the night with me?"
"No."
"But we shall see each other to-morrow?"
"I hope so. Good night."
I left that infernal abode, and went home to bed.
CHAPTER XIII
The End of the Story Stranger Than the Beginning
At eight o'clock the next morning Jarbe told me that the Charpillon
wanted to see me, and that she had sent away her chairmen.
"Tell her that I can't see her."
But I had hardly spoken when she came in, and Jarbe went out. I
addressed her with the utmost calmness, and begged her to give me
back the two bills of exchange I had placed in her hands the night
before.
"I haven't got them about me; but why do you want me to return them
to you?"
At this question I could contain myself no longer, and launched a
storm of abuse at her. It was an explosion which relieved nature,
and ended with an involuntary shower of tears. My infamous
seductress stood as calmly as Innocence itself; and when I was so
choked with sobs that I could not utter a word, she said she had only
been cruel because her mother had made her swear an oath never to
give herself to anyone in her own house, and that she had only come
now to convince me of her love, to give herself to me without
reserve, and never to leave me any more if I wished it.
The reader who imagines that at these words rage gave place to love,
and that I hastened to obtain the prize, does not know the nature of
the passion so well as the vile woman whose plaything I was. From
hot love to hot anger is a short journey, but the return is slow and
difficult. If there be only anger in a man's breast it may be
subdued by tenderness, by submission, and affection; but when to
anger is added a feeling of indignation at having been shamefully
deceived, it is impossible to pass suddenly to thoughts of love and
voluptuous enjoyment. With me mere anger has never been of long
duration, but when I am indignant the only cure is forgetfulness.
The Charpillon knew perfectly well that I would not take her at her
word, and this kind of science was inborn in her. The instinct of
women teaches them greater secrets than all the philosophy and the
research of men.
In the evening this monster left me, feigning to be disappointed and
disconsolate, and saying,--
"I hope you will come and see me again when you are once more
yourself."
She had spent eight hours with me, during which time she had only
spoken to deny my suppositions, which were perfectly true, but which
she could not afford to let pass. I had not taken anything all day,
in order that I might not be obliged to offer her anything or to eat
with her.
After she had left me I took some soup and then enjoyed a quiet
sleep, for which I felt all the better. When I came to consider what
had passed the, day before I concluded that the Charpillon was
repentant, but I seemed no longer to care anything about her.
Here I may as well confess, in all humility, what a change love
worked on me in London, though I had attained the age of thirty-
eight. Here closed the first act of my life; the second closed when
I left Venice in 1783, and probably the third will close here, as I
amuse myself by writing these memoirs. Thus, the three-act comedy
will finish, and if it be hissed, as may possibly be the case, I
shall not hear the sounds of disapproval. But as yet the reader has
not seen the last and I think the most interesting scene of the first
act.
I went for a walk in the Green Park and met Goudar. I was glad to
see him, as the rogue was useful to me.
"I have just been at the Charpillons," he began; "they were all in
high spirits. I tried in vain to turn the conversation on you, but
not a word would they utter."
"I despise them entirely," I rejoined, "I don't want to have anything
more to do with them."
He told me I was quite right, and advised me to persevere in my plan.
I made him dine with me, and then we went to see the well-known
procuress, Mrs. Wells, and saw the celebrated courtezan, Kitty
Fisher, who was waiting for the Duke of ---- to take her to a ball.
She was magnificently dressed, and it is no exaggeration to say that
she had on diamonds worth five hundred thousand francs. Goudar told
me that if I liked I might have her then and there for ten guineas.
I did not care to do so, however, for, though charming, she could
only speak English, and I liked to have all my senses, including that
of hearing, gratified. When she had gone, Mrs. Wells told us that
Kitty had eaten a bank-note for a thousand guineas, on a slice of
bread and butter, that very day. The note was a present from Sir
Akins, brother of the fair Mrs. Pitt. I do not know whether the bank
thanked Kitty for the present she had made it.
I spent an hour with a girl named Kennedy, a fair Irishwoman, who
could speak a sort of French, and behaved most extravagantly under
the influence of champagne; but the image of the Charpillon was still
before me, though I knew it not, and I could not enjoy anything.
I went home feeling sad and ill pleased with myself. Common sense
told me to drive all thoughts of that wretched woman out of my head,
but something I called honour bade me not leave her the triumph of
having won the two bills of exchange from me for nothing, and made me
determine to get them back by fair means or foul.
M. Malingan, at whose house I had made the acquaintance of this
creature, come and asked me to dinner. He had asked me to dine with
him several times before, and I had always refused, and now I would
not accept until I had heard what guests he had invited. The names
were all strange to me, so I agreed to come.
When I arrived I found two young ladies from Liege, in one of whom I
got interested directly. She introduced me to her husband, and to
another young man who seemed to be the cavalier of the other lady,
her cousin.
The company pleased me, and I was in hopes that I should spend a
happy day, but my evil genius brought the Charpillon to mar the
feast. She came into the room in high glee, and said to Malingan,--
"I should not have come to beg you to give me a dinner if I had known
that you would have so many guests, and if I am at all in the way I
will go."
Everybody welcomed her, myself excepted, for I was on the rack. To
make matters worse, she was placed at my left hand. If she had come
in before we sat down to dinner I should have made some excuse and
gone away, but as we had begun the soup a sudden flight would have
covered me with ridicule. I adopted the plan of not looking at her,
reserving all my politeness for the lady on my right. When the meal
was over Malingan took me apart, and swore to me that he had not
invited the Charpillon, but I was not convinced, though I pretended
to be for politeness' sake.
The two ladies from Liege and their cavaliers were embarking for
Ostend in a few days, and in speaking of their departure the one to
whom I had taken a fancy said that she was sorry to be leaving
England without having seen Richmond. I begged her to give me the
pleasure of shewing it her, and without waiting for an answer I asked
her husband and all the company to be present, excepting the
Charpillon, whom I pretended not to see.
The invitation was accepted.
"Two carriages," I said, "holding four each, shall be ready at eight
o'clock, and we shall be exactly eight."
"No, nine, for I am coming," said the Charpillon, giving me an
impudent stare, "and I hope you will not drive me away."
"No, that would be impolite, I will ride in front on horseback."
"Oh, not at all! Emilie shall sit on my lap."
Emilie was Malingan's daughter, and as everybody seemed to think the
arrangement an extremely pleasant one I had not the courage to
resist. A few moments after, I was obliged to leave the room for a
few moments, and when I came back I met her on the landing. She told
me I had insulted her grievously, and that unless I made amends I
should feel her vengeance.
"You can begin your vengeance," I said, "by returning my bills of
exchange"
"You shall have them to-morrow, but you had better try and make me
forget the insult you have put on me."
I left the company in the evening, having arranged that we should all
breakfast together the next day.
At eight o'clock the two carriages were ready, and Malingan, his
wife, his daughter, and the two gentlemen got into the first vehicle,
and I had to get into the second with the ladies from Liege and the
Charpillon, who seemed to have become very intimate with them. This
made me ill-tempered, and I sulked the whole way. We were an hour
and a quarter on the journey, and when we arrived I ordered a good
dinner, and then we proceeded to view the gardens; the day was a
beautiful one, though it was autumn.
Whilst we were Walking the Charpillon came up to me and said she
wanted to return the bills in the same place in which I had given her
them. As we were at some distance from the others I pelted her with
abuse, telling her of her perfidy and of her corruption at an age
when she should have retained some vestiges of innocence calling her
by the name she deserved, as I reminded her how often she had already
prostituted herself; in short I threatened her with my vengeance if
she pushed me to extremities. But she was as cold as ice, and
opposed a calm front to the storm of invective I rained in her ears.
However, as the other guests were at no great distance, she begged me
to speak more softly, but they heard me and I was very glad of it.
At last we sat down to dinner, and the wretched woman contrived to
get a place beside me, and behaved all the while as if I were her
lover, or at any rate as if she loved me. She did not seem to care
what people thought of my coldness, while I was in a rage, for the
company must either have thought me a fool or else that she was
making game of me.
After dinner we returned to the garden, and the Charpillon,
determined to gain the victory, clung to my arm and after several
turns led me towards the maze where she wished to try her power. She
made me sit down on the grass beside her and attacked me with
passionate words and tender caresses, and by displaying the most
interesting of her charms she succeeded in seducing me, but still I
do not know whether I were impelled by love or vengeance, and I am
inclined to think that my feelings were a compound of both passions.
But at the moment she looked the picture of voluptuous abandon.
Her ardent eyes, her fiery cheeks, her wanton kisses, her swelling
breast, and her quick sighs, all made me think that she stood as much
in need of defeat as I of victory; certainly I should not have judged
that she was already calculating on resistance.
Thus I once more became tender and affectionate; I begged pardon for
what I had said and done. Her fiery kisses replied to mine, and I
thought her glance and the soft pressure of her body were inviting me
to gather the delicious fruit; but just as my hand opened the door of
the sanctuary, she gave a sudden movement, and the chance was lost.
"What! you would deceive me again."
"No, no but we have done enough now. I promise to spend the night in
your arms in your own house."
For a moment I lost my senses. I only saw the deceitful wretch who
had profited by my foolish credulity so many times, and I resolved to
enjoy or take vengeance. I held her down with my left arm, and
drawing a small knife from my pocket I opened it with my teeth and
pricked her neck, threatening to kill her if she resisted me.
"Do as you like," she said with perfect calm, "I only ask you to
leave me my life, but after you have satisfied yourself I will not
leave the spot; I will not enter your carriage unless you carry me by
force, and everybody shall know the reason."
This threat had no effect, for I had already got back my senses, and
I pitied myself for being degraded by a creature for whom I had the
greatest contempt, in spite of the almost magical influence she had
over me, and the furious desires she knew how to kindle in my breast.
I rose without a word, and taking my hat and cane I hastened to leave
a place where unbridled passion had brought me to the brink of ruin.
My readers will scarcely believe me (but it is nevertheless the exact
truth) when I say that the impudent creature hastened to rejoin me,
and took my arm again as if nothing had happened. A girl of her age
could not have played the part so well unless she had been already
tried in a hundred battles. When we rejoined the company I was asked
if I were ill, while nobody noticed the slightest alteration in her.
When we got back to London I excused myself under the plea of a bad
headache, and returned home.
The adventure had made a terrible impression on me, and I saw that if
I did not avoid all intercourse with this girl I should be brought to
ruin. There was something about her I could not resist. I therefore
resolved to see her no more, but feeling ashamed of my weakness in
giving her the bills of exchange I wrote her mother a note requesting
her to make her daughter return them, or else I should be compelled
to take harsh measures.
In the afternoon I received the following reply:
"Sir,--I am exceedingly surprised at your addressing yourself to me
about the bills you handed to my daughter. She tells me she will
give you them back in person when you shew more discretion, and have
learnt to respect her."
This impudent letter so enraged me that I forgot my vow of the
morning. I put two pistols in my pocket and proceeded to the
wretched woman's abode to compel her to return me my bills if she did
not wish to be soundly caned.
I only took the pistols to overawe the two male rascals who supped
with them every evening. I was furious when I arrived, but I passed
by the door when I saw a handsome young hairdresser, who did the
Charpillon's hair every Saturday evening, going into the house.
I did not want a stranger to be present at the scene I meant to make,
so I waited at the corner of the street for the hairdresser to go.
After I had waited half an hour Rostaing and Couman, the two supports
of the house, came out and went away, much to my delight. I waited
on; eleven struck, and the handsome barber had not yet gone. A
little before midnight a servant came out with a lamp, I suppose to
look for something that had fallen out of the window. I approached
noiselessly, stepped in and opened the parlour-door, which was close
to the street, and saw . . . the Charpillon and the barber
stretched on the sofa and doing the beast with two backs, as
Shakespeare calls it.
When the slut saw me she gave a shriek and unhorsed her gallant, whom
I caned soundly until he escaped in the confusion consequent on the
servants, mother, and aunts all rushing into the room. While this
was going on the Charpillon, half-naked, remained crouched behind the
sofa, trembling lest the blows should begin to descend on her. Then
the three hags set upon me like furies; but their abuse only
irritated me, and I broke the pier-'glass, the china, and the
furniture, and as they still howled and shrieked I roared out that if
they did not cease I would break their heads. At this they began to
calm.
I threw myself upon the fatal sofa, and bade the mother to return me
the bills of exchange; but just then the watchman came in.
There is only one watchman to a district, which he perambulates all
night with a lantern in one hand and a staff in the other. On these
men the peace of the great city depends. I put three or four crowns
into his hand and said "Go away," and so saying shut the door upon
him. Then I sat down once more and asked again for the bills of
exchange:
"I have not got them; my daughter keeps them."
"Call her."
The two maids said that whilst I was breaking the china she had
escaped by the street door, and that they did not know what had
become of her. Then the mother and aunts began to shriek, weep, and
exclaim,--
"My poor daughter alone in the streets of London at midnight! My
dear niece, alas! alas! she is lost. Cursed be the hour when you
came to England to make us all unhappy!"
My rage had evaporated, and I trembled at the thought of this young
frightened girl running about the streets at such an hour.
"Go and look for her at the neighbours' houses," I said to the
servants, "no doubt you will find her. When you tell me she is safe,
you shall have a guinea apiece."
When the three Gorgons saw I was interested, their tears, complaints,
and invectives began again with renewed vigor, while I kept silence
as much as to say that they were in the right. I awaited the return
of the servants with impatience, and at last at one o'clock they came
back with looks of despair.
"We have looked for her everywhere," said they, "but we can't find
her."
I gave them the two guineas as if they had succeeded, whilst I sat
motionless reflecting on the terrible consequences of my anger. How
foolish is man when he is in love!
I was idiot enough to express my repentance to the three old cheats.
I begged them to seek for her everywhere when dawn appeared, and to
let me know of her return that I might fall at her feet to beg
pardon, and never see her face again. I also promised to pay for all
the damage I had done, and to give them a full receipt for the bills
of exchange. After these acts, done to the everlasting shame of my
good sense, after this apology made to procuresses who laughed at me
and my honour, I went home, promising two guineas to the servant who
should bring me tidings that her young mistress had come home.
On leaving the house I found the watchman at the door; he had been
waiting to see me home. It was two o'clock. I threw myself on my
bed, and the six hours of sleep I obtained, though troubled by
fearful dreams, probably saved me from madness.
At eight o'clock I heard a knock at the door, and on opening the
window found it was one of the servants from the house of my foes. I
cried out to let her in, and I breathed again on hearing that Miss
Charpillon had just arrived in a sedan-chair in a pitiable condition,
and that she had been put to bed.
"I made haste to come and tell you," said the cunning maid, "not for
the sake of your two guineas, but because I saw you were so unhappy."
This duped me directly. I gave her the two guineas, and made her sit
down on my bed, begging her to tell me all about her mistress's
return. I did not dream that she had been schooled by my enemies;
but during the whole of this period I was deprived of the right use
of my reason.
The slut began by saying that her young mistress loved me, and had
only deceived me in accordance with her mother's orders.
"I know that," I said, "but where did she pass the night?"
"At a shop which she found open, and where she was known from having
bought various articles there. She is in bed with a fever, and I am
afraid it may have serious consequences as she is in her monthly
period."
"That's impossible, for I caught her in the act with her
hairdresser."
"Oh, that proves nothing! the poor young man does not look into
things very closely."
"But she is in love with him."
"I don't think so, though she has spent several hours in his
company."
"And you say that she loves me!"
"Oh, that has nothing to do with it! It is only a whim of hers with
the hairdresser."
"Tell her that I am coming to pass the day beside her bed, and bring
me her reply."
"I will send the other girl if you like."
"No, she only speaks English."
She went away, and as she had not returned by three o'clock I decided
on calling to hear how she was. I knocked at the door, and one of
the aunts appeared and begged me not to enter as the two friends of
the house were there in a fury against me, and her niece lay in a
delirium, crying out "There's Seingalt, there's Seingalt! He's
going to kill me. Help! help!" "For God's sake, sir, go away,"
I went home desperate, without the slightest suspicion that it was
all a lie. I spent the whole day without eating anything; I could
not swallow a mouthful. All night I kept awake, and though I took
several glasses of strong waters I could obtain no rest.
At nine o'clock the next morning I knocked at the Charpillon's door,
and the old aunt came and held it half open as before. She forbade
me to enter, saying that her niece was still delirious, continually
calling on me in her transports, and that the doctor had declared
that if the disease continued its course she had not twenty-four
hours to live. "The fright you gave her has arrested her periods;
she is in a terrible state."
"O, fatal hairdresser!" I exclaimed.
"That was a mere youthful folly; you should have pretended not to
have seen anything."
"You think that possible, you old witch, do you? Do not let her lack
for anything; take that."
With these words I gave her a bank note for ten guineas and went
away, like the fool I was. On my way back I met Goudar, who was
quite frightened at my aspect. I begged him to go and see how the
Charpillon really was, and then to come and pass the rest of the day
with me. An hour after he came back and said he had found them all
in tears and that the girl was in extremis.
"Did you see her?"
"No, they said she could see no one."
"Do you think it is all true?"
"I don't know what to think; but one of the maids, who tells me the
truth as a rule, assured me that she had become mad through her
courses being stopped, while she has also a fever and violent
convulsions. It is all credible enough, for these are the usual
results of a shock when a woman is in such a situation. The girl
told me it was all your fault."
I then told him the whole story. He could only pity me, but when he
heard that I had neither eaten nor slept for the last forty-eight
hours he said very wisely that if I did not take care I should lose
my reason or my life. I knew it, but I could find no remedy. He
spent the day with me and did me good. As I could not eat I drank a
good deal, and not being able to sleep I spent the night in striding
up and down my room like a man beside himself.
On the third day, having heard nothing positive about the Charpillon,
I went out at seven o'clock in the morning to call on her. After I
had waited a quarter of an hour in the street, the door was partly
opened, and I saw the mother all in tears, but she would not let me
come in. She said her daughter was in the last agony. At the same
instant a pale and thin old man came out, telling the mother that we
must resign ourselves to the will of God. I asked the infamous
creature if it were the doctor.
"The doctor is no good now," said the old hypocrite, weeping anew,
"he is a minister of the Gospel, and there is another of them
upstairs. My poor daughter! In another hour she will be no more."
I felt as if an icy hand had closed upon my heart. I burst into
tears and left the woman, saying,--
"It is true that my hand dealt the blow, but her death lies at your
door."
As I walked away my knees seemed to bend under me, and I entered my
house determined to commit suicide,--
With this fearful idea, I gave orders that I was not at home to
anyone. As soon as I got to my room I put my watches, rings, snuff-
boxes, purse and pocket-book in my casket, and shut it up in my
escritoire. I then wrote a letter to the Venetian ambassador,
informing him that all my property was to go to M. de Bragadin after
my death. I sealed the letter and put it with the casket, and took
the key with me, and also silver to the amount of a few guineas. I
took my pistols and went out with the firm intention of drowning
myself in the Thames, near the Tower of London.
Pondering over my plan with the utmost coolness, I went and bought
some balls of lead as large as my pockets would hold, and as heavy as
I could bear, to carry to the Tower, where I intended to go on foot.
On my way I was strengthened in my purpose by the reflection, that if
I continued to live I should be tormented for the remainder of my
days by the pale shade of the Charpillon reproaching me as her
murderer. I even congratulated myself on being able to carry out my
purpose without any effort, and I also felt a secret pride in my
courage.
I walked slowly on account of the enormous weight I bore, which would
assure me a speedy passage to the bottom of the river.
By Westminster Bridge my good fortune made me meet Sir Edgar, a rich
young Englishman, who lived a careless and joyous life. I had made
his acquaintance at Lord Pembroke's, and he had dined with me several
times. We suited one another, his conversation was agreeable, and we
had passed many pleasant hours together. I tried to avoid him, but
he saw me, and came up and took me by the arm in a friendly manner.
"Where are you going? Come with me, unless you are going to deliver
some captive. Come along, we shall have a pleasant party."
"I can't come, my dear fellow, let me go."
"What's the matter? I hardly recognized you, you looked so solemn."
"Nothing is the matter."
"Nothing? You should look at your face in the glass. Now I feel
quite sure that you are going to commit a foolish action."
"Not at all."
"It's no good denying it."
"I tell you there's nothing the matter with me. Good bye, I shall
see you again."
"It's no good, I won't leave you. Come along, we will walk
together."
His eyes happening to fall on my breeches pocket, he noticed my
pistol, and putting his hand on the other pocket he felt the other
pistol, and said,--
"You are going to fight a duel; I should like to see it. I won't
interfere with the affair, but neither will I leave you."
I tried to put on a smile, and assured him that he was mistaken, and
that I was only going for a walk to pass the time.
"Very good," said Edgar, "then I hope my society is as pleasant to
you as yours is to me; I won't leave you. After we have taken a walk
we will go and dine at the 'Canon.' I will get two girls to come and
join us, and we shall have a gay little party of four."
"My dear friend, you must excuse me; I am in a melancholy mood, and I
want to be alone to get over it."
"You can be alone to-morrow, if you like, but I am sure you will be
all right in the next three hours, and if not, why I will share your
madness. Where did you think of dining?"
"Nowhere; I have no appetite. I have been fasting for the last three
days, and I can only drink."
"Ah! I begin to see daylight. Something has crossed you, and you are
going to let it kill you as it killed one of my brothers. I must see
what can be done."
Edgar argued, insisted, and joked till at last I said to myself, "A
day longer will not matter, I can do the deed when he leaves me, and
I shall only have to bear with life a few hours longer."
When Edgar heard that I had no particular object in crossing the
bridge he said that we had better turn back, and I let myself be
persuaded; but in half an hour I begged him to take me somewhere
where I could wait for him, as I could not bear the weight of the
lead any longer. I gave him my word of honour that I would meet him
at the "Canon."
As soon as I was alone I emptied my pockets, and put the leaden balls
into a cupboard. Then I lay down and began to consider whether the
good-natured young man would prevent me committing suicide, as he had
already made me postpone it.
I reasoned, not as one that hopes, but rather as one that foresaw
that Edgar would hinder me from shortening my days. Thus I waited in
the tavern for the young Englishman, doubtful whether he was doing me
a service or an injury.
He came back before long, and was pleased to find me.
"I reckoned on your keeping your word," said he.
"You did not think that I would break my word of honour."
"That's all right; I see you are on the way to recovery."
The sensible and cheerful talk of the young man did me good, and I
began to feel better, when the two young wantons, one of whom was a
Frenchwoman, arrived in high spirits. They seemed intended for
pleasure, and Nature had dowered them with great attractions. I
appreciated their charms, but I could not welcome them in the manner
to which they were accustomed. They began to think me some poor
valetudinarian; but though I was in torments, a feeling of vanity
made me endeavour to behave sensibly. I gave them some cold kisses
and begged Edgar to tell his fellow-countrywoman that if I were not
three parts dead I would prove how lovely and charming I thought her.
They pitied me. A man who has spent three days without eating or
sleeping is almost incapable of any voluptuous excitement, but mere
words would not have convinced these priestesses of Venus if Edgar
had not given them my name. I had a reputation, and I saw that when
they heard who I was they were full of respect. They all hoped that
Bacchus and Comus would plead the cause of Love, and I let them talk,
knowing that their hopes were vain.
We had an English dinner; that is, a dinner without the essential
course of soup, so I only took a few oysters and a draught of
delicious wine, but I felt better, and was pleased to see Edgar
amusing himself with the two nymphs.
The young madcap suddenly proposed that the girls should dance a
hornpipe in the costume of Mother Eve, and they consented on the
condition that we would adopt the dress of Father Adam, and that
blind musicians were summoned. I told them that I would take off my
clothes to oblige them, but that I had no hopes of being able to
imitate the seductive serpent. I was allowed to retain my dress, on
the condition that if I felt the prick of the flesh I should
immediately undress. I agreed to do so, and the blind musicians were
sent for, and while they tuned their instruments toilettes were made,
and the orgy began.
It taught me same useful lessons. I learnt from it that amorous
pleasures are the effect and not the cause of gaiety. I sat gazing
at three naked bodies of perfect grace and beauty, the dance and the
music were ravishing and seductive, but nothing made any impression
on me. After the dance was over the male dancer treated the two
females, one after the other, until he was forced to rest. The
French girl came up to ascertain whether I skewed any signs of life,
but feeling my hopeless condition she pronounced me useless.
When it was all over I begged Edgar to give the French girl four
guineas, and to pay my share, as I had very little money about me.
What should I have said if I had been told in the morning that
instead of drowning myself I should take part in so pleasant an
entertainment?
The debt I had contracted with the young Englishman made me resolve
to put off my suicide to another day. After the nymphs had gone I
tried to get rid of Edgar, but in vain; he told me I was getting
better, that the oysters I had taken skewed my stomach was improving,
and that if I came with him to Ranelagh I should be able to make a
good dinner the next day. I was weak and indifferent and let myself
be persuaded, and got into a coach with Edgar in obedience to the
Stoic maxim I had learnt in the happy days of my youth: 'Sequere
Deum'.
We entered the fine rotunda with our hats off, and began to walk
round and round, our arms behind our backs--a common custom in
England, at least in those days.
A minuet was being danced, and I was so attracted by a lady who
danced extremely well that I waited for her to turn round. What made
me notice her more particularly was that her dress and hat were
exactly like those I had given to the Charpillon a few days before,
but as I believed the poor wretch to be dead or dying the likeness
did not inspire me with any suspicion. But the lady turned round,
lifted her face, and I saw--the Charpillon herself!
Edgar told me afterwards that at that moment he thought to see me
fall to the ground in an epileptic fit; I trembled and shuddered so
terribly.
However, I felt so sure she was ill that I could not believe my own
eyes, and the doubt brought me to my senses.
"She can't be the Charpillon," I said to myself, "she is some other
girl like her, and my enfeebled senses have led me astray." In the
meanwhile the lady, intent on her dancing, did not glance in my
direction, but I could afford to wait. At last she lifted her arms
to make the curtsy at the end of the minuet, I went up instinctively
as if I were about to dance with her; she looked me in the face, and
fled.
I constrained myself; but now that there could be no doubt my
shuddering fit returned, and I made haste to sit down. A cold sweat
bedewed my face and my whole body. Edgar advised me to take a cup of
tea but I begged him to leave me alone for a few moments.
I was afraid that I was on the point of death; I trembled all over,
and my heart beat so rapidly that I could not have stood up had I
wished.
At last, instead of dying, I got new life. What a wonderful change I
experienced! Little by little my peace of mind returned, and I could
enjoy the glitter of the multitudinous wax lights. By slow degrees I
passed through all the shades of feeling between despair and an
ecstasy of joy. My soul and mind were so astonished by the shock
that I began to think I should never see Edgar again.
"This young man," I said to myself, "is my good genius, my guardian
angel, my familiar spirit, who has taken the form of Edgar to restore
me to my senses again."
I should certainly have persisted in this idea if my friend had not
reappeared before very long.
Chance might have thrown him in the way of one of those seductive
creatures who make one forget everything else; he might have left
Ranelagh without having time to tell me he was going, and I should
have gone back to London feeling perfectly certain that I had only
seen his earthly shape. Should I have been disabused if I had seen
him a few days after? Possibly; but I am not sure of it. I have
always had a hankering after superstition, of which I do not boast;
but I confess the fact, and leave the reader to judge me.
However, he came back in high spirits, but anxious about me. He was
surprised to find me full of animation, and to hear me talking in a
pleasant strain on the surrounding objects and persons.
"Why, you are laughing!" said he, "your sadness has departed, then?"
"Yes, good genius, but I am hungry, and I want you to do me a favour,
if you have no other pressing engagements."
"I am free till the day after to-morrow, and till then you can do
what you like with me."
"I owe my life to you, but to make your gift complete I want you to
spend this night and the whole of the next day with me."
"Done."
"Then let us go home."
"With all my heart; come along."
I did not tell him anything as we were in the coach, and when we got
home I found nothing fresh, except a note from Goudar, which I put in
my pocket, intending to reserve all business for the next day.
It was an hour after midnight. A good supper was served to us, and
we fell to; for my part I devoured my food like a wild beast. Edgar
congratulated me, and we went to bed, and I slept profoundly till
noon. When I awoke I breakfasted with Edgar, and told him the whole
story, which would have ended with my life if he had not met me on
Westminster Bridge, and he had not been keen enough to mark my
condition. I took him to my room, and shewed him my escritoire, my
casket, and my will. I then opened Goudar's letter, and read:
"I am quite sure that the girl you know of is very far from dying, as
she has gone to Ranelagh with Lord Grosvenor."
Although Edgar was a profligate, he was a sensible man, and my story
made him furious. He threw his arms around my neck, and told me he
should always think the day on which he rescued me from death for so
unworthy an object the happiest in his life. He could scarcely
credit the infamy of the Charpillon and her mother. He told me I
could have the mother arrested, though I had not got the bills of
exchange, as her mother's letter acknowledging her daughter's
possession of the bills was sufficient evidence.
Without informing him of my intention, I resolved that moment to have
her arrested. Before we parted we swore eternal friendship, but the
reader will see before long what a penance the kind Englishman had to
do for befriending me.
The next day I went to the attorney I had employed against Count
Schwerin. After hearing my story he said that I had an undoubted
claim, and that I could arrest the mother and the two aunts.
Without losing time I went before a magistrate, who took my sworn
information and granted me a warrant. The same official who had
arrested Schwerin took charge of the affair; but as he did not know
the women by sight it was necessary that someone who did should go
with him, for though he was certain of surprising them there might be
several other women present, and he might not arrest the right ones.
As Goudar would not have undertaken the delicate task of pointing
them out, I resolved on accompanying him myself.
I made an appointment with him at an hour when I knew they would be
all in the parlour. He was to enter directly the door was opened,
and I would come in at the same instant and point out the women he
had to arrest. In England all judicial proceedings are conducted
with the utmost punctuality, and everything went off as I had
arranged. The bailiff and his subaltern stepped into the parlour and
I followed in their footsteps. I pointed out the mother and the two
sisters and then made haste to escape, for the sight of the
Charpillon, dressed in black, standing by the hearth, made me
shudder. I felt cured, certainly; but the wounds she had given me
were not yet healed, and I cannot say what might have happened if the
Circe had had the presence of mind to throw her arms about my neck
and beg for mercy.
As soon as I had seen these women in the hands of justice I fled,
tasting the sweets of vengeance, which are very great, but yet a sign
of unhappiness. The rage in which I had arrested the three
procuresses, and my terror in seeing the woman who had well-nigh
killed me, shewed that I was not really cured. To be so I must fly
from them and forget them altogether.
The next morning Goudar came and congratulated me on the bold step I
had taken, which proved, he said, that I was either cured or more in
love than ever. "I have just come from Denmark Street," he added,
"and I only saw the grandmother, who was weeping bitterly, and an
attorney, whom no doubt she was consulting."
"Then you have heard what has happened?"
"Yes, I came up a minute after you had gone and I stayed till the
three old sluts made up their minds to go with the constable. They
resisted and said he ought to leave them till the next day, when they
would be able to find someone to bail them. The two bravos drew
their swords to resist the law, but the other constable disarmed them
one after the other, and the three women were led off. The
Charpillon wanted to accompany them, but it was judged best that she
should remain at liberty, in order to try and set them free."
Goudar concluded by saying that he should go and see them in prison,
and if I felt disposed to come to an arrangement he would mediate
between us. I told him that the only arrangement I would accept was
the payment of the six thousand francs, and that they might think
themselves very lucky that I did not insist on having my interest,
and thus repaying myself in part for the sums they had cheated out of
me.
A fortnight elapsed without my hearing any more of the matter. The
Charpillon dined with them every day, and in fact, kept them. It
must have cost her a good deal, for they had two rooms, and their
landlord would not allow them to have their meals prepared outside
the prison. Goudar told me that the Charpillon said she would never
beg me to listen to her mother, though she knew she had only to call
on me to obtain anything she wanted. She thought me the most
abominable of men. If I feel obliged to maintain that she was
equally abominable, I must confess that on this occasion she shewed
more strength of mind than I; but whereas I had acted out of passion,
her misdeeds were calculated, and tended solely to her own interests.
For the whole of this fortnight I had sought for Edgar in vain, but
one morning he came to see me, looking in high spirits.
"Where have you been hiding all this time?" said I, "I have been
looking for you everywhere."
"Love has been keeping me a prisoner," said he, "I have got some
money for you."
"For me? From what quarter?"
"On behalf of the Ansperghers. Give me a receipt and the necessary
declaration, for I am going to restore them myself to the poor
Charpillon, who has been weeping for the last fortnight."
"I daresay she has, I have seen her weep myself; but I like the way
in which she has chosen the being who delivered me from her chains as
a protector. Does she know that I owe my life to you?"
"She only knew that I was with you at Ranelagh when you saw her
dancing instead of dying, but I have told her the whole story since."
"No doubt she wants you to plead with me in her favour."
"By no means. She has just been telling me that you are a monster of
ingratitude, for she loved you and gave you several proofs of her
affection, but now she hates you."
"Thank Heaven for that! The wretched woman! It's curious she should
have selected you as her lover by way of taking vengeance on me, but
take care! she will punish you."
"It may be so, but at all events it's a pleasant kind of punishment."
"I hope you may be happy, but look to yourself; she is a mistress in
all sorts of deceit."
Edgar counted me out two hundred and fifty guineas, for which I gave
him a receipt and the declaration he required, and with these
documents he went off in high spirits.
After this I might surely flatter myself that all was at an end
between us, but I was mistaken.
Just about this time the Crown Prince of Brunswick, now the reigning
duke, married the King of England's sister. The Common Council
presented him with the freedom of the City, and the Goldsmith's
Company admitted him into their society, and gave him a splendid box
containing the documents which made him a London citizen. The prince
was the first gentleman in Europe, and yet he did not disdain to add
this new honour to a family illustrious for fourteen hundred years.
On this occasion Lady Harrington was the means of getting Madame
Cornelis two hundred guineas. She lent her room in Soho Square to a
confectioner who gave a ball and supper to a thousand persons at
three guineas each. I paid my three guineas, and had the honour of
standing up all the evening with six hundred others, for the table
only seated four hundred, and there were several ladies who were
unable to procure seats. That evening I saw Lady Grafton seated
beside the Duke of Cumberland. She wore her hair without any powder,
and all the other ladies were exclaiming about it, and saying how
very unbecoming it was. They could not anathematize the innovator
too much, but in less than six months Lady Grafton's style of doing
the hair became common, crossed the Channel, and spread all over
Europe, though it has been given another name. It is still in
fashion, and is the only method that can boast the age of thirty
years, though it was so unmercifully ridiculed at first.
The supper for which the giver of the feast had received three
thousand guineas, or sixty-five thousand francs, contained a most
varied assortment of delicacies, but as I had not been dancing, and
did not feel taken with any of the ladies present, I left at one in
the morning. It was Sunday, a day on which all persons, save
criminals, are exempt from arrest; but, nevertheless, the following
adventure befell me:
I was dressed magnificently, and was driving home in my carriage,
with my negro and another servant seated behind me; and just as we
entered Pall Mall I heard a voice crying, "Good night, Seingalt." I
put my head out of the window to reply, and in an instant the
carriage was surrounded by men armed with pistols, and one of them
said,--
"In the king's name!"
My servant asked what they wanted, and they answered,--
"To take him to Newgate, for Sunday makes no difference to
criminals."
"And what crime have I committed?"
"You will hear that in prison."
"My master has a right to know his crime before he goes to prison,"
said the negro.
"Yes, but the magistrate's abed."
The negro stuck to his position, however, and the people who had come
up declared with one consent that he was in the right.
The head-constable gave in, and said he would take me to a house in
the city.
"Then drive to that city," said I, "and have done with it."
We stopped before the house, and I was placed in a large room on the
ground floor, furnished solely with benches and long tables. My
servant sent back the carriage, and came to keep me company. The six
constables said they could not leave me, and told me I should send
out for some meat and drink for them. I told my negro to give them
what they wanted, and to be as amicable with them as was possible.
As I had not committed any crime, I was quite at ease; I knew that my
arrest must be the effect of a slander, and as I was aware that
London justice was speedy and equitable, I thought I should soon be
free. But I blamed myself for having transgressed the excellent
maxim, never to answer anyone in the night time; for if I had not
done so I should have been in my house, and not in prison. The
mistake, however, had been committed, and there was nothing to be
done but to wait patiently. I amused myself by reflecting on my
rapid passage from a numerous and exalted assemblage to the vile
place I now occupied, though I was still dressed like a prince.
At last the day dawned, and the keeper of the tavern came to see who
the prisoner was. I could not helping laughing at him when he saw
me, for he immediately began to abuse the constables for not awaking
him when I came; he had lost the guinea I should have paid for a
private room. At last news was brought that the magistrate was
sitting, and that I must be brought up.
A coach was summoned, and I got into it, for if I had dared to walk
along the streets in my magnificent attire the mob would have pelted
me.
I went into the hall of justice, and all eyes were at once attracted
towards me; my silks and satins appeared to them the height of
impertinence.
At the end of the room I saw a gentleman sitting in an arm-chair, and
concluded him to be my judge. I was right, and the judge was blind.
He wore a broad band round his head, passing over his eyes. A man
beside me, guessing I was a foreigner, said in French,--
"Be of good courage, Mr. Fielding is a just and equitable
magistrate."
I thanked the kindly unknown, and was delighted to see before me this
famous and estimable writer, whose works are an honour to the English
nation.
When my turn came, the clerk of the court told Mr. Fielding my name,
at least, so I presume.
"Signor Casanova," said he, in excellent Italian, "be kind enough to
step forward. I wish to speak to you."
I was delighted to hear the accents of my native tongue, and making
my way through the press I came up to the bar of the court, and
said,--
"Eccomi, Signore."
He continued to speak Italian, and said,--
"Signor de Casanova, of Venice, you are condemned to perpetual
confinement in the prisons of His Majesty the King of Great Britain."
"I should like to know, sir, for what crime I am condemned. Would
you be kind enough to inform me as to its nature?"
"Your demand is a reasonable one, for with us no one is condemned
without knowing the cause of his condemnation. You must know, then,
that the accusation (which is supported by two witnesses) charges you
with intending to do grievous bodily harm to the person of a pretty
girl; and as this pretty girl aforesaid goes in dread of you, the law
decrees that you must be kept in prison for the rest of your days."
"Sir, this accusation is a groundless calumny; to that I will take my
oath! It is very possible indeed that the girl may fear my vengeance
when she comes to consider her own conduct, but I can assure you that
I have had no such designs hitherto, and I don't think I ever shall."
"She has two witnesses."
"Then they are false ones. But may I ask your worship the name of my
accuser?"
"Miss Charpillon."
"I thought as much; but I have never given her aught but proofs of my
affection."
"Then you have no wish to do her any bodily harm?"
"Certainly not."
"Then I congratulate you. You can dine at home; but you must find
two sureties. I must have an assurance from the mouths of two
householders that you will never commit such a crime."
"Whom shall I find to do so?"
"Two well-known Englishmen, whose friendship you have gained, and who
know that you are incapable of such an action. Send for them, and if
they arrive before I go to dinner I will set you at liberty."
The constable took me back to prison, where I had passed the night,
and I gave my servants the addresses of all the householders I
recollected, bidding them explain my situation, and to be as quick as
possible. They ought to have come before noon, but London is such a
large place! They did not arrive, and the magistrate went to dinner.
I comforted myself by the thought that he would sit in the afternoon,
but I had to put up with a disagreeable experience.
The chief constable, accompanied by an interpreter, came to say that
I must go to Newgate. This is a prison where the most wretched and
abject criminals are kept.
I signified to him that I was awaiting bail, and that he could take
me to Newgate in the evening if it did not come, but he only turned a
deaf ear to my petition. The interpreter told me in a whisper that
the fellow was certainly paid by the other side to put me to trouble,
but that if I liked to bribe him I could stay where I was.
"How much will he want?"
The interpreter took the constable aside, and then told me that I
could stay where I was for ten guineas.
"Then say that I should like to see Newgate."
A coach was summoned, and I was taken away.
When I got to this abode of misery and despair, a hell, such as Dante
might have conceived, a crowd of wretches, some of whom were to be
hanged in the course of the week, greeted me by deriding my elegant
attire. I did not answer them, and they began to get angry and to
abuse me. The gaoler quieted them by saying that I was a foreigner
and did not understand English, and then took me to a cell, informing
me how much it would cost me, and of the prison rules, as if he felt
certain that I should make a long stay. But in the course of half an
hour, the constable who had tried to get ten guineas out of me told
me that bail had arrived and that my carriage was at the door.
I thanked God from the bottom of my heart, and soon found myself in
the presence of the blind magistrate. My bail consisted of Pegu, my
tailor, and Maisonneuve, my wine merchant, who said they were happy
to be able to render me this slight service. In another part of the
court I noticed the infamous Charpillon, Rostaing, Goudar, and an
attorney. They made no impression on me, and I contented myself with
giving them a look of profound contempt.
My two sureties were informed of the amount in which they were to
bail me, and signed with a light heart, and then the magistrate said,
politely,--
"Signor Casanova, please to sign your name for double the amount, and
you will then be a free man again."
I went towards the clerk's table, and on asking the sum I was to
answer for was informed that it was forty guineas, each of my
sureties signing for twenty. I signed my name, telling Goudar that
if the magistrate could have seen the Charpillon he would have valued
her beauty at ten thousand guineas. I asked the names of the two
witnesses, and was told that they were Rostaing and Bottarelli. I
looked contemptuously at Rostaing, who was as pale as death, and
averting my face from the Charpillon out of pity, I said,--
"The witnesses are worthy of the charge."
I saluted the judge with respect, although he could not see me, and
asked the clerk if I had anything to pay. He replied in the
negative, and a dispute ensued between him and the attorney of my
fair enemy, who was disgusted on hearing that she could not leave the
court without paying the costs of my arrest.
Just as I was going, five or six well-known Englishmen appeared to
bail me out, and were mortified to hear that they had come too late.
They begged me to forgive the laws of the land, which are only too
often converted into a means for the annoyance of foreigners.
At last, after one of the most tedious days I have ever spent, I
returned home and went to bed, laughing at the experience I had
undergone.
by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
IN LONDON AND MOSCOW, Volume 5d--LONDON TO BERLIN
THE MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR
MACHEN TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR
SYMONS.
FLIGHT FROM LONDON TO BERLIN
CHAPTER XIV
Bottarelli--A Letter from Pauline--The Avenging Parrot--Pocchini--
Guerra, the Venetian--I Meet Sara Again; My Idea of Marrying Her and
Settling in Switzerland--The Hanoverians
Thus ended the first act of the comedy; the second began the next
morning. I was just getting up, when I heard a noise at the street
door, and on putting my head out of the window I saw Pocchini, the
scoundrel who had robbed me at Stuttgart trying to get into my house.
I cried out wrathfully that I would have nothing to do with him, and
slammed down my window.
A little later Goudar put in an appearance. He had got a copy of the
St. James's Chronicle, containing a brief report of my arrest, and of
my being set a liberty under a bail of eighty guineas. My name and
the lady's were disguised, but Rostaing and Bottarelli were set down
plainly, and the editor praised their conduct. I felt as if I should
like to know Bottarelli, and begged Goudar to take me to him, and
Martinelli, happening to call just then, said he would come with us.
We entered a wretched room on the third floor of a wretched house,
and there we beheld a picture of the greatest misery. A woman and
five children clothed in rags formed the foreground, and in the
background was Bottarelli, in an old dressing-gown, writing at a
table worthy of Philemon and Baucis. He rose as we came in, and the
sight of him moved me to compassion. I said,--
"Do you know me, sir?"
"No, sir, I do not."
"I am Casanova, against whom you bore false witness; whom you tried
to cast into Newgate."
"I am very sorry, but look around you and say what choice have I? I
have no bread to give my children. I will do as much in your favour
another time for nothing."
"Are you not afraid of the gallows?"
"No, for perjury is not punished with death; besides it is very
difficult to prove."
"I have heard you are a poet."
"Yes. I have lengthened the Didone and abridged the Demetrio."
"You are a great poet, indeed!"
I felt more contempt than hatred for the rascal, and gave his wife a
guinea, for which she presented me with a wretched pamphlet by her
husband: "The Secrets of the Freemasons Displayed." Bottarelli had
been a monk in his native city, Pisa, and had fled to England with
his wife, who had been a nun.
About this time M. de Saa surprised me by giving me a letter from my
fair Portuguese, which confirmed the sad fate of poor Clairmont.
Pauline said she was married to Count Al----. I was astonished to
hear M. de Saa observe that he had known all about Pauline from the
moment she arrived in London. That is the hobby of all diplomatists;
they like people to believe that they are omniscient. However, M. de
Saa was a man of worth and talent, and one could excuse this weakness
as an incident inseparable from his profession; while most
diplomatists only make themselves ridiculous by their assumption of
universal knowledge.
M. de Saa had been almost as badly treated by the Charpillon as
myself, and we might have condoled with one another, but the subject
was not mentioned.
A few days afterwards, as I was walking idly about, I passed a place
called the Parrot Market. As I was amusing myself by looking at
these curious birds, I saw a fine young one in a cage, and asked what
language it spoke. They told me that it was quite young and did not
speak at all yet, so I bought it for ten guineas. I thought I would
teach the bird a pretty speech, so I had the cage hung by my bed, and
repeated dozens of times every day the following sentence: "The
Charpillon is a bigger wh--e than her mother."
The only end I had in view was my private amusement, and in a
fortnight the bird had learnt the phrase with the utmost exactness;
and every time it uttered the words it accompanied them with a shriek
of laughter which I had not taught it, but which made me laugh
myself.
One day Gondar heard the bird, and told me that if I sent it to the
Exchange I should certainly get fifty guineas for it. I welcomed the
idea, and resolved to make the parrot the instrument of my vengeance
against the woman who had treated me so badly. I secured myself from
fear of the law, which is severe in such cases, by entrusting the
bird to my negro, to whom such merchandise was very suitable.
For the first two or three days my parrot did not attract much
attention, its observations being in French; but as soon as those who
knew the subject of them had heard it, its audience increased and
bids were made. Fifty guineas seemed rather too much, and my negro
wanted me to lower the price, but I would not agree, having fallen in
love with this odd revenge.
In the course of a week Goudar came to inform me of the effect the
parrot's criticism had produced in the Charpillon family. As the
vendor was my negro, there could be no doubt as to whom it belonged,
and who had been its master of languages. Goudar said that the
Charpillon thought my vengeance very ingenious, but that the mother
and aunts were furious. They had consulted several counsel, who
agreed in saying that a parrot could not be indicted for libel, but
that they could make me pay dearly for my jest if they could prove
that I had been the bird's instructor. Goudar warned me to be
careful of owning to the fact, as two witnesses would suffice to undo
me.
The facility with which false witnesses may be produced in London is
something dreadful. I have myself seen the word evidence written in
large characters in a window; this is as much as to say that false
witnesses may be procured within.
The St. James's Chronicle contained an article on my parrot, in which
the writer remarked that the ladies whom the bird insulted must be
very poor and friendless, or they would have bought it at once, and
have thus prevented the thing from becoming the talk of the town. He
added,--
"The teacher of the parrot has no doubt made the bird an instrument
of his vengeance, and has displayed his wit in doing so; he ought to
be an Englishman."
I met my good friend Edgar, and asked him why he had not bought the
little slanderer.
"Because it delights all who know anything about the object of the
slander," said he.
At last Jarbe found a purchaser for fifty guineas, and I heard
afterwards that Lord Grosvenor had bought it to please the
Charpillon, with whom he occasionally diverted himself.
Thus my relations with that girl came to an end. I have seen her
since with the greatest indifference, and without any renewal of the
old pain.
One day, as I was going into St. James's Park, I saw two girls
drinking milk in a room on the ground floor of a house. They called
out to me, but not knowing them I passed on my way. However, a young
officer of my acquaintance came after me and said they were Italians,
and being curious to see them I retracted my steps.
When I entered the room I was accosted by the scoundrelly Pocchini,
dressed in a military uniform, who said he had the honour of
introducing me to his daughters.
"Indeed," said I, "I remember two other daughters of yours robbing me
of a snuff-box and two watches at Stuttgart."
"You lie!" said the impudent rascal.
I gave him no verbal answer, but took up a glass of milk and flung it
in his face, and then left the room without more ado.
I was without my sword. The young officer who had brought me into
the place followed me and told me I must not go without giving his
friend some satisfaction.
"Tell him to come out, and do you escort him to the Green Park, and I
shall have the pleasure of giving him a caning in your presence,
unless you would like to fight for him; if so, you must let me go
home and get my sword. But do you know this man whom you call your
friend?"
"No, but he is an officer, and it is I that brought him here."
"Very good, I will fight to the last drop of my blood; but I warn you
your friend is a thief. But go; I will await you."
In the course of a quarter of an hour they all came out, but the
Englishman and Pocchini followed me alone. There were a good many
people about, and I went before them till we reached Hyde Park.
Pocchini attempted to speak to me, but I replied, lifting my cane,--
"Scoundrel, draw your sword, unless you want me to give you a
thrashing!"
"I will never draw upon a defenceless man."
I gave him a blow with my cane by way of answer, and the coward,
instead of drawing his sword, began to cry out that I wished to draw
him into a fight. The Englishman burst out laughing and begged me to
pardon his interference, and then, taking me by the arm, said,--
"Come along, sir, I see you know the gentleman."
The coward went off in another direction, grumbling as he went.
On the way I informed the officer of the very good reasons I had for
treating Pocchini as a rogue, and he agreed that I had been perfectly
right. "Unfortunately," he added, "I am in love with one of his
daughters."
When we were in the midst of St. James's Park we saw them, and I
could not help laughing when I noticed Goudar with one of them on
each side.
"How did you come to know these ladies?" said I.
"Their father the captain," he answered, "has sold me jewels; he
introduced me to them."
"Where did you leave our father?" asked one.
"In Hyde Park, after giving him a caning."
"You served him quite right."
The young Englishman was indignant to hear them approving my ill-
treatment of their father, and shook my hand and went away, swearing
to me that he would never be seen in their company again.
A whim of Goudar's, to which I was weak enough to consent, made me
dine with these miserable women in a tavern on the borders of London.
The rascally Goudar made them drunk, and in this state they told some
terrible truths about their pretended father. He did not live with
them, but paid them nocturnal visits in which he robbed them of all
the money they had earned. He was their pander, and made them rob
their visitors instructing them to pass it off as a joke if the theft
was discovered. They gave him the stolen articles, but he never said
what he did with them. I could not help laughing at this involuntary
confession, remembering what Goudar had said about Pocchini selling
him jewels.
After this wretched meal I went away leaving the duty of escorting
them back to Goudar. He came and saw me the next day, and informed
me that the girls had been arrested and taken to prison just as they
were entering their house.
"I have just been to Pocchini's," said he, "but the landlord tells me
he has not been in since yesterday."
The worthy and conscientious Goudar added that he did not care if he
never saw him again, as he owed the fellow ten guineas for a watch,
which his daughters had probably stolen, and which was well worth
double.
Four days later I saw him again, and he informed me that the rascal
had left London with a servant-maid, whom he had engaged at a
registry office where any number of servants are always ready to take
service with the first comer. The keeper of the office answers for
their fidelity.
"The girl he has gone with is a pretty one, from what the man tells
me, and they have taken ship from London. I am sorry he went away
before I could pay him for the watch; I am dreading every moment to
meet the individual from whom it was stolen."
I never heard what became of the girls, but Pocchini will re-appear
on the scene in due course.
I led a tranquil and orderly life, which I should have been pleased
to continue for the remainder of my days; but circumstances and my
destiny ordered it otherwise, and against these it is not becoming in
a Christian philosopher to complain. I went several times to see my
daughter at her school, and I also frequented the British Museum,
where I met Dr. Mati. One day I found an Anglican minister with him,
and I asked the clergyman how many different sects there were in
England.
"Sir," he replied in very tolerable Italian, "no one can give a
positive answer to that question, for every week some sect dies and
some new one is brought into being. All that is necessary is for a
man of good faith, or some rogue desirous of money or notoriety, to
stand in some frequented place and begin preaching. He explains some
texts of the Bible in his own fashion, and if he pleases the gapers
around him they invite him to expound next Sunday, often in a tavern.
He keeps the appointment and explains his new doctrines in a spirited
manner. Then people begin to talk of him; he disputes with ministers
of other sects; he and his followers give themselves a name, and the
thing is done. Thus, or almost thus, are all the numerous English
sects produced."
About this time M. Steffano Guerra, a noble Venetian who was
travelling with the leave of his Government, lost a case against an
English painter who had executed a miniature painting of one of the
prettiest ladies in London, Guerra having given a written promise to
pay twenty-five guineas. When it was finished Guerra did not like
it, and would not take it or pay the price. The Englishman, in
accordance with the English custom, began by arresting his debtor;
but Guerra was released on bail, and brought the matter before the
courts, which condemned him to pay the twenty-five guineas. He
appealed, lost again, and was in the end obliged to pay. Guerra
contented that he had ordered a portrait, that a picture bearing no
likeness to the lady in question was not a portrait, and that he had
therefore a right to refuse payment. The painter replied that it was
a portrait as it had been painted from life. The judgment was that
the painter must live by his trade, and that as Guerra had given him
painting to do he must therefore provide him with the wherewithal to
live, seeing that the artist swore he had done his best to catch the
likeness. Everybody thought this sentence just, and so did I; but I
confess it also seemed rather hard, especially to Guerra, who with
costs had to pay a hundred guineas for the miniature.
Malingan's daughter died just as her father received a public box on
the ear from a nobleman who liked piquet, but did not like players
who corrected the caprices of fortune. I gave the poor wretch the
wherewithal to bury his daughter and to leave England. He died soon
after at Liege, and his wife told me of the circumstance, saying that
he had expired regretting his inability to pay his debts.
M. M---- F---- came to London as the representative of the canton of
Berne, and I called, but was not received. I suspected that he had
got wind of the liberties I had taken with pretty Sara, and did not
want me to have an opportunity for renewing them. He was a somewhat
eccentric man, so I did not take offence, and had almost forgotten
all about it when chance led me to the Marylebone Theatre one
evening. The spectators sat at little tables, and the charge for
admittance was only a shilling, but everyone was expected to order
something, were it only a pot of ale.
On going into the theatre I chanced to sit down beside a girl whom I
did not notice at first, but soon after I came in she turned towards
me, and I beheld a ravishing profile which somehow seemed familiar;
but I attributed that to the idea of perfect beauty that was graven
on my soul. The more I looked at her the surer I felt that I had
never seen her before, though a smile of inexpressible slyness had
begun to play about her lips. One of her gloves fell, and I hastened
to restore it to her, whereupon she thanked me in a few well-chosen
French sentences.
"Madam is not English, then?" said I, respectfully.
"No, sir, I am a Swiss, and a friend of yours."
At this I looked round, and on my right hand sat Madame M---- F----,
then her eldest daughter, then her husband. I got up, and after
bowing to the lady, for whom I had a great esteem, I saluted her
husband, who only replied by a slight movement of the head. I asked
Madame M---- F---- what her husband had against me, and she said that
Possano had written to him telling some dreadful stories about me.
There was not time for me to explain and justify myself, so I devoted
all my energies to the task of winning the daughter's good graces.
In three years she had grown into a perfect beauty: she knew it, and
by her blushes as she spoke to me I knew she was thinking of what had
passed between us in the presence of my housekeeper. I was anxious
to find out whether she would acknowledge the fact, or deny it
altogether. If she had done so I should have despised her. When I
had seen her before, the blossom of her beauty was still in the bud,
now it had opened out in all its splendour.
"Charming Sara," I said, "you have so enchanted me that I cannot help
asking you a couple of questions, which if you value my peace of mind
you will answer. Do you remember what happened at Berne?"
"Yes."
"And do you repent of what you did?"
"No."
No man of any delicacy could ask the third question, which may be
understood. I felt sure that Sara would make me happy-nay, that she
was even longing for the moment, and gave reins to my passions,
determined to convince her that I was deserving of her love.
The waiter came to enquire if we had any orders, and I begged Madame
M---- F---- to allow me to offer her some oysters. After the usual
polite refusals she gave in, and I profited by her acceptance to
order all the delicacies of the season, including a hare (a great
delicacy in London), champagne, choice liqueurs, larks, ortolans,
truffles, sweetmeats--everything, in fact, that money could buy, and
I was not at all surprised when the bill proved to amount to ten
guineas. But I was very much surprised when M. M---- F----, who had
eaten like a Turk and drunk like a Swiss, said calmly that it was too
dear.
I begged him politely not to trouble himself about the cost; and by
way of proving that I did not share his opinion, I gave the waiter
half-a-guinea; the worthy man looked as if he wished that such
customers came more often. The Swiss, who had been pale and gloomy
enough a short while before; was rubicund and affable. Sara glanced
at me and squeezed my hand; I had conquered.
When the play was over, M---- F---- asked me if I would allow him to
call on me. I embraced him in reply. His servant came in, and said
that he could not find a coach; and I, feeling rather surprised that
he had not brought his carriage, offered him the use of mine, telling
my man to get me a sedan-chair.
"I accept your kind offer," said he, "on the condition that you allow
me to occupy the chair."
I consented to this arrangement, and took the mother and the two
daughters with me in the carriage.
On the way, Madame M---- F---- was very polite, gently blaming her
husband for the rudeness of which I had to complain. I said that I
would avenge myself by paying an assiduous court to him in the
future; but she pierced me to the heart by saying that they were on
the point of departing. "We wanted to go on the day after next," she
said, "and to-morrow we shall have to leave our present rooms to
their new occupants. A matter of business which my husband was not
able to conclude will oblige us to stay for another week, and to-
morrow we shall have the double task of moving and finding new
apartments."
"Then you have not yet got new rooms?"
"No, but my husband says he is certain to find some to-morrow
morning."
"Furnished, I suppose, for as you intend to leave you will be
selling, your furniture."
"Yes, and we shall have to pay the expenses of carriage to the
buyer."
On hearing that M. M---- F---- was sure of finding lodgings, I was
precluded from offering to accommodate them in my own house, as the
lady might think that I only made the offer because I was sure it
would not be accepted.
When we got to the door of their house we alighted, and the mother
begged me to come in. She and her husband slept on the second floor,
and the two girls on the third. Everything was upside down, and as
Madame M---- F---- had something to say to the landlady she asked me
to go up with her daughters. It was cold, and the room we entered
had no fire in it. The sister went into the room adjoining and I
stayed with Sara, and all of a sudden I clasped her to my breast, and
feeling that her desires were as ardent as mine I fell with her on to
a sofa where we mingled our beings in all the delights of voluptuous
ardours. But this happiness was short lived; scarcely was the work
achieved when we heard a footstep on the stair. It was the father.
If M---- F---- had had any eyes he must have found us out, for my
face bore the marks of agitation, the nature of which it was easy to
divine. We exchanged a few brief compliments; I shook his hand and
disappeared. I was in such a state of excitement when I got home
that I made up my mind to leave England and to follow Sara to
Switzerland. In the night I formed my plans, and resolved to offer
the family my house during the time they stayed in England, and if
necessary to force them to accept my offer.
In the morning I hastened to call on M---- F----, and found him on
his doorstep.
"I am going to try and get a couple of rooms," said he.
"They are already found," I replied. "My house is at your service,
and you must give me the preference. Let us come upstairs."
"Everybody is in bed."
"Never mind," said I, and we proceeded to go upstairs.
Madame M---- F---- apologized for being in bed. Her husband told her
that I wanted to let them some rooms, but I laughed and said I
desired they would accept my hospitality as that of a friend. After
some polite denials my offer was accepted, and it was agreed that the
whole family should take up their quarters with me in the evening.
I went home, and was giving the necessary orders when I was told that
two young ladies wished to see me. I went down in person, and I was
agreeably surprised to see Sara and her sister. I asked them to come
in, and Sara told me that the landlady would not let their belongings
out of the house before her father paid a debt of forty guineas,
although a city merchant had assured her it should be settled in a
week. The long and snort of it was that Sara's father had sent me a
bill and begged me to discount it.
I took the bill and gave her a bank note for fifty pounds in
exchange, telling her that she could give me the change another time.
She thanked me with great simplicity and went her way, leaving me
delighted with the confidence she had placed in me.
The fact of M. M---- F----'s wanting forty guineas did not make me
divine that he was in some straits, for I looked at everything
through rose-coloured glasses, and was only too happy to be of
service to him.
I made a slight dinner in order to have a better appetite for supper,
and spent the afternoon in writing letters. In the evening M. M----
F----'s man came with three great trunks and innumerable card-board
boxes, telling me that the family would soon follow; but I awaited
them in vain till nine o'clock. I began to get alarmed and went to
the house, where I found them all in a state of consternation. Two
ill-looking fellows who were in the room enlightened me; and assuming
a jovial and unconcerned air, I said,--
"I'll wager, now, that this is the work of some fierce creditor."
"You are right," answered the father, "but I am sure of discharging
the debt in five or six days, and that's why I put off my departure."
"Then you were arrested after you had sent on your trunks."
"Just after."
"And what have you done?"
"I have sent for bail."
"Why did you not send to me?"
"Thank you, I am grateful for your kindness, but you are a foreigner,
and sureties have to be householders."
"But you ought to have told me what had happened, for I have got you
an excellent supper, and I am dying of hunger."
It was possible that this debt might exceed my means, so I did not
dare to offer to pay it. I took Sara aside, and on hearing that all
his trouble was on account of a debt of a hundred and fifty pounds, I
asked the bailiff whether we could go away if the debt was paid.
"Certainly," said he, shewing me the bill of exchange.
I took out three bank notes of fifty pounds each, and gave them to
the man, and taking the bill I said to the poor Swiss,--
"You shall pay me the money before you leave England."
The whole family wept with joy, and after embracing them all I
summoned them to come and sup with me and forget the troubles of
life.
We drove off to my house and had a merry supper, though the worthy
mother could not quite forget her sadness. After supper I took them
to the rooms which had been prepared for them, and with which they
were delighted, and so I wished them good night, telling them that
they should be well entertained till their departure, and that I
hoped to follow them into Switzerland.
When I awoke the next day I was in a happy frame of mind. On
examining my desires I found that they had grown too strong to be
overcome, but I did not wish to overcome them. I loved Sara, and I
felt so certain of possessing her that I put all desires out of my
mind; desires are born only of doubt, and doubt torments the soul.
Sara was mine; she had given herself to me out of pure passion,
without any shadow of self-interest.
I went to the father's room, and found him engaged in opening his
trunks. His wife looked sad, so I asked her if she were not well.
She replied that her health was perfect, but that the thought of the
sea voyage troubled her sorely. The father begged me to excuse him
at breakfast as he had business to attend to. The two young ladies
came down, and after we had breakfast I asked the mother why they
were unpacking their trunks so short a time before starting. She
smiled and said that one trunk would be ample for all their
possessions, as they had resolved to sell all superfluities. As I
had seen some beautiful dresses, fine linen, and exquisite lace, I
could not refrain from saying that it would be a great pity to sell
cheaply what would have to be replaced dearly.
"You are right," she said, "but, nevertheless, there is no pleasure
so great as the consciousness of having paid one's debts."
"You must not sell anything," I replied, in a lively manner, "for as
I am going to Switzerland with you I can pay your debts, and you
shall repay me when you can."
At these words astonishment was depicted on her face.
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