The Complete Memoires of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
by
Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
Part 6 out of 70
In a moment of calm, seeing the disorder in which we both were, I
told her that we might be surprised.
"Do not fear, my best beloved," she said, "we are under the
guardianship of our good angels."
We were resting and reviving our strength by gazing into one
another's eyes, when suddenly Lucrezia, casting a glance to the
right, exclaimed,
"Look there! idol of my heart, have I not told you so? Yes, the
angels are watching over us! Ah! how he stares at us! He seems to
try to give us confidence. Look at that little demon; admire him!
He must certainly be your guardian spirit or mine."
I thought she was delirious.
"What are you saying, dearest? I do not understand you. What am I
to admire?"
"Do you not see that beautiful serpent with the blazing skin, which
lifts its head and seems to worship us?"
I looked in the direction she indicated, and saw a serpent with
changeable colours about three feet in length, which did seem to be
looking at us. I was not particularly pleased at the sight, but I
could not show myself less courageous than she was.
"What!" said I, "are you not afraid?"
"I tell you, again, that the sight is delightful to me, and I feel
certain that it is a spirit with nothing but the shape, or rather the
appearance, of a serpent."
"And if the spirit came gliding along the grass and hissed at you?"
"I would hold you tighter against my bosom, and set him at defiance.
In your arms Lucrezia is safe. Look! the spirit is going away.
Quick, quick! He is warning us of the approach of some profane
person, and tells us to seek some other retreat to renew our
pleasures. Let us go."
We rose and slowly advanced towards Donna Cecilia and the advocate,
who were just emerging from a neighbouring alley. Without avoiding
them, and without hurrying, just as if to meet one another was a very
natural occurrence, I enquired of Donna Cecilia whether her daughter
had any fear of serpents.
"In spite of all her strength of mind," she answered, "she is
dreadfully afraid of thunder, and she will scream with terror at the
sight of the smallest snake. There are some here, but she need not
be frightened, for they are not venomous"
I was speechless with astonishment, for I discovered that I had just
witnessed a wonderful love miracle. At that moment the children came
up, and, without ceremony, we again parted company.
"Tell me, wonderful being, bewitching woman, what would you have done
if, instead of your pretty serpent, you had seen your husband and
your mother?"
"Nothing. Do you not know that, in moments of such rapture, lovers
see and feel nothing but love? Do you doubt having possessed me
wholly, entirely?"
Lucrezia, in speaking thus, was not composing a poetical ode; she was
not feigning fictitious sentiments; her looks, the sound of her
voice, were truth itself!
"Are you certain," I enquired, "that we are not suspected?"
"My husband does not believe us to be in love with each other, or
else he does not mind such trifling pleasures as youth is generally
wont to indulge in. My mother is a clever woman, and perhaps she
suspects the truth, but she is aware that it is no longer any concern
of hers. As to my sister, she must know everything, for she cannot
have forgotten the broken-down bed; but she is prudent, and besides,
she has taken it into her head to pity me. She has no conception of
the nature of my feelings towards you. If I had not met you, my
beloved, I should probably have gone through life without realizing
such feelings myself; for what I feel for my husband.... well, I have
for him the obedience which my position as a wife imposes upon me."
"And yet he is most happy, and I envy him! He can clasp in his arms
all your lovely person whenever he likes! There is no hateful veil
to hide any of your charms from his gaze."
"Oh! where art thou, my dear serpent? Come to us, come and protect
us against the surprise of the uninitiated, and this very instant I
fulfil all the wishes of him I adore!"
We passed the morning in repeating that we loved each other, and in
exchanging over and over again substantial proofs of our mutual
passion.
We had a delicious dinner, during which I was all attention for the
amiable Donna Cecilia. My pretty tortoise-shell box, filled with
excellent snuff, went more than once round the table. As it happened
to be in the hands of Lucrezia who was sitting on my left, her
husband told her that, if I had no objection, she might give me her
ring and keep the snuff-box in exchange. Thinking that the ring was
not of as much value as my box, I immediately accepted, but I found
the ring of greater value. Lucrezia would not, however, listen to
anything on that subject. She put the box in her pocket, and thus
compelled me to keep her ring.
Dessert was nearly over, the conversation was very animated, when
suddenly the intended husband of Angelique claimed our attention for
the reading of a sonnet which he had composed and dedicated to me. I
thanked him, and placing the sonnet in my pocket promised to write
one for him. This was not, however, what he wished; he expected
that, stimulated by emulation, I would call for paper and pen, and
sacrifice to Apollo hours which it was much more to my taste to
employ in worshipping another god whom his cold nature knew only by
name. We drank coffee, I paid the bill, and we went about rambling
through the labyrinthine alleys of the Villa Aldobrandini.
What sweet recollections that villa has left in my memory! It seemed
as if I saw my divine Lucrezia for the first time. Our looks were
full of ardent love, our hearts were beating in concert with the most
tender impatience, and a natural instinct was leading us towards a
solitary asylum which the hand of Love seemed to have prepared on
purpose for the mysteries of its secret worship. There, in the
middle of a long avenue, and under a canopy of thick foliage, we
found a wide sofa made of grass, and sheltered by a deep thicket;
from that place our eyes could range over an immense plain, and view
the avenue to such a distance right and left that we were perfectly
secure against any surprise. We did not require to exchange one word
at the sight of this beautiful temple so favourable to our love; our
hearts spoke the same language.
Without a word being spoken, our ready hands soon managed to get rid
of all obstacles, and to expose in a state of nature all the beauties
which are generally veiled by troublesome wearing apparel. Two whole
hours were devoted to the most delightful, loving ecstasies. At last
we exclaimed together in mutual ecstasy, "O Love, we thank thee!"
We slowly retraced our steps towards the carriages, revelling in our
intense happiness. Lucrezia informed me that Angelique's suitor was
wealthy, that he owned a splendid villa at Tivoli, and that most
likely he would invite us all to dine and pass the night there.
"I pray the god of love," she added, "to grant us a night as
beautiful as this day has been." Then, looking sad, she said, "But
alas! the ecclesiastical lawsuit which has brought my husband to
Rome is progressing so favourably that I am mortally afraid he will
obtain judgment all too soon."
The journey back to the city lasted two hours; we were alone in my
vis-a-vis and we overtaxed nature, exacting more than it can possibly
give. As we were getting near Rome we were compelled to let the
curtain fall before the denouement of the drama which we had
performed to the complete satisfaction of the actors.
I returned home rather fatigued, but the sound sleep which was so
natural at my age restored my full vigour, and in the morning I took
my French lesson at the usual hour.
CHAPTER X
Benedict XIV--Excursion to Tivoli--Departure of Lucrezia--The
Marchioness G.--Barbara Dalacqua--My Misfortunes--I Leave Rome
M. Dalacqua being very ill, his daughter Barbara gave me my lesson.
When it was over, she seized an opportunity of slipping a letter into
my pocket, and immediately disappeared, so that I had no chance of
refusing. The letter was addressed to me, and expressed feelings of
the warmest gratitude. She only desired me to inform her lover that
her father had spoken to her again, and that most likely he would
engage a new servant as soon as he had recovered from his illness,
and she concluded her letter by assuring me that she never would
implicate me in this business.
Her father was compelled to keep his bed for a fortnight, and Barbara
continued to give me my lesson every day. I felt for her an interest
which, from me towards a young and pretty girl, was, indeed, quite a
new sentiment. It was a feeling of pity, and I was proud of being
able to help and comfort her. Her eyes never rested upon mine, her
hand never met mine, I never saw in her toilet the slightest wish to
please me. She was very pretty, and I knew she had a tender, loving
nature; but nothing interfered with the respect and the regard which
I was bound in honour and in good faith to feel towards her, and I
was proud to remark that she never thought me capable of taking
advantage of her weakness or of her position.
When the father had recovered he dismissed his servant and engaged
another. Barbara entreated me to inform her friend of the
circumstance, and likewise of her hope to gain the new servant to
their interests, at least sufficiently to secure the possibility of
carrying on some correspondence. I promised to do so, and as a mark
of her gratitude she took my hand to carry it to her lips, but
quickly withdrawing it I tried to kiss her; she turned her face away,
blushing deeply. I was much pleased with her modesty.
Barbara having succeeded in gaining the new servant over, I had
nothing more to do with the intrigue, and I was very glad of it, for
I knew my interference might have brought evil on my own head.
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
I seldom visited Don Gaspar; the study of the French language took up
all my mornings, and it was only in the morning that I could see him;
but I called every evening upon Father Georgi, and, although I went
to him only as one of his 'proteges', it gave me some reputation. I
seldom spoke before his guests, yet I never felt weary, for in his
circle his friends would criticise without slandering, discuss
politics without stubbornness, literature without passion, and I
profited by all. After my visit to the sagacious monk, I used to
attend the assembly of the cardinal, my master, as a matter of duty.
Almost every evening, when she happened to see me at her card-table,
the beautiful marchioness would address to me a few gracious words in
French, and I always answered in Italian, not caring to make her
laugh before so many persons. My feelings for her were of a singular
kind. I must leave them to the analysis of the reader. I thought
that woman charming, yet I avoided her; it was not because I was
afraid of falling in love with her; I loved Lucrezia, and I firmly
believed that such an affection was a shield against any other
attachment, but it was because I feared that she might love me or
have a passing fancy for me. Was it self-conceit or modesty, vice or
virtue? Perhaps neither one nor the other.
One evening she desired the Abbe Gama to call me to her; she was
standing near the cardinal, my patron, and the moment I approached
her she caused me a strange feeling of surprise by asking me in
Italian a question which I was far from anticipating:
"How did you like Frascati?"
"Very much, madam; I have never seen such a beautiful place."
"But your company was still more beautiful, and your vis-a-vis was
very smart."
I only bowed low to the marchioness, and a moment after Cardinal
Acquaviva said to me, kindly,
"You are astonished at your adventure being known?"
"No, my lord; but I am surprised that people should talk of it. I
could not have believed Rome to be so much like a small village."
"The longer you live in Rome," said his eminence, "the more you will
find it so. You have not yet presented yourself to kiss the foot of
our Holy Father?"
"Not yet, my lord."
"Then you must do so."
I bowed in compliance to his wishes.
The Abbe Gama told me to present myself to the Pope on the morrow,
and he added,
"Of course you have already shewn yourself in the Marchioness G.'s
palace?"
"No, I have never been there."
"You astonish me; but she often speaks to you!"
"I have no objection to go with you."
"I never visit at her palace."
"Yet she speaks to you likewise."
"Yes, but.... You do not know Rome; go alone; believe me, you ought
to go."
"Will she receive me?"
"You are joking, I suppose. Of course it is out of the question for
you to be announced. You will call when the doors are wide open to
everybody. You will meet there all those who pay homage to her."
"Will she see me?"
"No doubt of it."
On the following day I proceeded to Monte-Cavallo, and I was at once
led into the room where the Pope was alone. I threw myself on my
knees and kissed the holy cross on his most holy slipper. The Pope
enquiring who I was, I told him, and he answered that he knew me,
congratulating me upon my being in the service of so eminent a
cardinal. He asked me how I had succeeded in gaining the cardinal's
favour; I answered with a faithful recital of my adventures from my
arrival at Martorano. He laughed heartily at all I said respecting
the poor and worthy bishop, and remarked that, instead of trying to
address him in Tuscan, I could speak in the Venetian dialect, as he
was himself speaking to me in the dialect of Bologna. I felt quite
at my ease with him, and I told him so much news and amused him so
well that the Holy Father kindly said that he would be glad to see me
whenever I presented myself at Monte-Cavallo. I begged his
permission to read all forbidden books, and he granted it with his
blessing, saying that I should have the permission in writing, but he
forgot it.
Benedict XIV, was a learned man, very amiable, and fond of a joke.
I saw him for the second time at the Villa Medicis. He called me to
him, and continued his walk, speaking of trifling things. He was
then accompanied by Cardinal Albani and the ambassador from Venice.
A man of modest appearance approached His Holiness, who asked what he
required; the man said a few words in a low voice, and, after
listening to him, the Pope answered, "You are right, place your trust
in God;" and he gave him his blessing. The poor fellow went away
very dejected, and the Holy Father continued his walk.
"This man," I said, "most Holy Father, has not been pleased with the
answer of Your Holiness."
"Why?"
"Because most likely he had already addressed himself to God before
he ventured to apply to you; and when Your Holiness sends him to God
again, he finds himself sent back, as the proverb says, from Herod to
Pilate."
The Pope, as well as his two companions, laughed heartily; but I kept
a serious countenance.
"I cannot," continued the Pope, "do any good without God's
assistance."
"Very true, Holy Father; but the man is aware that you are God's
prime minister, and it is easy to imagine his trouble now that the
minister sends him again to the master. His only resource is to give
money to the beggars of Rome, who for one 'bajocco' will pray for
him. They boast of their influence before the throne of the
Almighty, but as I have faith only in your credit, I entreat Your
Holiness to deliver me of the heat which inflames my eyes by granting
me permission to eat meat."
"Eat meat, my son."
"Holy Father, give me your blessing."
He blessed me, adding that I was not dispensed from fasting.
That very evening, at the cardinal's assembly, I found that the news
of my dialogue with the Pope was already known. Everybody was
anxious to speak to me. I felt flattered, but I was much more
delighted at the joy which Cardinal Acquaviva tried in vain to
conceal.
As I wished not to neglect Gama's advice, I presented myself at the
mansion of the beautiful marchioness at the hour at which everyone
had free access to her ladyship. I saw her, I saw the cardinal and a
great many abbes; but I might have supposed myself invisible, for no
one honoured me with a look, and no one spoke to me. I left after
having performed for half an hour the character of a mute. Five or
six days afterwards, the marchioness told me graciously that she had
caught a sight of me in her reception-rooms.
"I was there, it is true, madam; but I had no idea that I had had the
honour to be seen by your ladyship."
"Oh! I see everybody. They tell me that you have wit."
"If it is not a mistake on the part of your informants, your ladyship
gives me very good news."
"Oh! they are excellent judges."
"Then, madam, those persons must have honoured me with their
conversation; otherwise, it is not likely that they would have been
able to express such an opinion."
"No doubt; but let me see you often at my receptions."
Our conversation had been overheard by those who were around; his
excellency the cardinal told me that, when the marchioness addressed
herself particularly to me in French, my duty was to answer her in
the same language, good or bad. The cunning politician Gama took me
apart, and remarked that my repartees were too smart, too cutting,
and that, after a time, I would be sure to displease. I had made
considerable progress in French; I had given up my lessons, and
practice was all I required. I was then in the habit of calling
sometimes upon Lucrezia in the morning, and of visiting in the
evening Father Georgi, who was acquainted with the excursion to
Frascati, and had not expressed any dissatisfaction.
Two days after the sort of command laid upon me by the marchioness, I
presented myself at her reception. As soon as she saw me, she
favoured me with a smile which I acknowledged by a deep reverence;
that was all. In a quarter of an hour afterwards I left the mansion.
The marchioness was beautiful, but she was powerful, and I could not
make up my mind to crawl at the feet of power, and, on that head, I
felt disgusted with the manners of the Romans.
One morning towards the end of November the advocate, accompanied by
Angelique's intended, called on me. The latter gave me a pressing
invitation to spend twenty-four hours at Tivoli with the friends I
had entertained at Frascati. I accepted with great pleasure, for I
had found no opportunity of being alone with Lucrezia since the
Festival of St. Ursula. I promised to be at Donna Cecilia's house at
day-break with the same 'is-a-vis'. It was necessary to start very
early, because Tivoli is sixteen miles from Rome, and has so many
objects of interest that it requires many hours to see them all. As
I had to sleep out that night, I craved permission to do so from the
cardinal himself, who, hearing with whom I was going, told me that I
was quite right not to lose such an opportunity of visiting that
splendid place in such good society.
The first dawn of day found me with my 'vis-a-vis' and four at the
door of Donna Cecilia, who came with me as before. The charming
widow, notwithstanding her strict morality, was delighted at my love
for her daughter. The family rode in a large phaeton hired by Don
Francisco, which gave room for six persons.
At half-past seven in the morning we made a halt at a small place
where had been prepared, by Don Franciso's orders, an excellent
breakfast, which was intended to replace the dinner, and we all made
a hearty meal, as we were not likely to find time for anything but
supper at Tivoli. I wore on my finger the beautiful ring which
Lucrezia had given me. At the back of the ring I had had a piece of
enamel placed, on it was delineated a saduceus, with one serpent
between the letters Alpha and Omega. This ring was the subject of
conversation during breakfast, and Don Francisco, as well as the
advocate, exerted himself in vain to guess the meaning of the
hieroglyphs; much to the amusement of Lucrezia, who understood the
mysterious secret so well. We continued our road, and reached Tivoli
at ten o'clock.
We began by visiting Don Francisco's villa. It was a beautiful
little house, and we spent the following six hours in examining
together the antiquities of Tivoli. Lucrezia having occasion to
whisper a few words to Don Francisco, I seized the opportunity of
telling Angelique that after her marriage I should be happy to spend
a few days of the fine season with her.
"Sir," she answered, "I give you fair notice that the moment I become
mistress in this house you will be the very first person to be
excluded."
"I feel greatly obliged to you, signora, for your timely notice."
But the most amusing part of the affair was that I construed
Angelique's wanton insult into a declaration of love. I was
astounded. Lucrezia, remarking the state I was in, touched my arm,
enquiring what ailed me. I told her, and she said at once,
"My darling, my happiness cannot last long; the cruel moment of our
separation is drawing near. When I have gone, pray undertake the
task of compelling her to acknowledge her error. Angelique pities
me, be sure to avenge me."
I have forgotten to mention that at Don Francisco's villa I happened
to praise a very pretty room opening upon the orange-house, and the
amiable host, having heard me, came obligingly to me, and said that
it should be my room that night. Lucrezia feigned not to hear, but
it was to her Ariadne's clue, for, as we were to remain altogether
during our visit to the beauties of Tivoli, we had no chance of a
tete-a-tete through the day.
I have said that we devoted six hours to an examination of the
antiquities of Tivoli, but I am bound to confess here that I saw, for
my part, very little of them, and it was only twenty-eight years
later that I made a thorough acquaintance with the beautiful spot.
We returned to the villa towards evening, fatigued and very hungry,
but an hour's rest before supper--a repast which lasted two hours,
the most delicious dishes, the most exquisite wines, and particularly
the excellent wine of Tivoli--restored us so well that everybody
wanted nothing more than a good bed and the freedom to enjoy the bed
according to his own taste.
As everybody objected to sleep alone, Lucrezia said that she would
sleep with Angelique in one of the rooms leading to the orange-house,
and proposed that her husband should share a room with the young
abbe, his brother-in-law, and that Donna Cecilia should take her
youngest daughter with her.
The arrangement met with general approbation, and Don Francisco,
taking a candle, escorted me to my pretty little room adjoining the
one in which the two sisters were to sleep, and, after shewing me how
I could lock myself in, he wished me good night and left me alone.
Angelique had no idea that I was her near neighbour, but Lucrezia and
I, without exchanging a single word on the subject, had perfectly
understood each other.
I watched through the key-hole and saw the two sisters come into
their room, preceded by the polite Don Francisco, who carried a
taper, and, after lighting a night-lamp, bade them good night and
retired. Then my two beauties, their door once locked, sat down on
the sofa and completed their night toilet, which, in that fortunate
climate, is similar to the costume of our first mother. Lucrezia,
knowing that I was waiting to come in, told her sister to lie down on
the side towards the window, and the virgin, having no idea that she
was exposing her most secret beauties to my profane eyes, crossed the
room in a state of complete nakedness. Lucrezia put out the lamp and
lay down near her innocent sister.
Happy moments which I can no longer enjoy, but the sweet remembrance
of which death alone can make me lose! I believe I never undressed
myself as quickly as I did that evening.
I open the door and fall into the arms of my Lucrezia, who says to
her sister, "It is my angel, my love; never mind him, and go to
sleep."
What a delightful picture I could offer to my readers if it were
possible for me to paint voluptuousnes in its most enchanting
colours! What ecstasies of love from the very onset! What delicious
raptures succeed each other until the sweetest fatigue made us give
way to the soothing influence of Morpheus!
The first rays of the sun, piercing through the crevices of the
shutters, wake us out of our refreshing slumbers, and like two
valorous knights who have ceased fighting only to renew the contest
with increased ardour, we lose no time in giving ourselves up to all
the intensity of the flame which consumes us.
"Oh, my beloved Lucrezia! how supremely happy I am! But, my darling,
mind your sister; she might turn round and see us."
"Fear nothing, my life; my sister is kind, she loves me, she pities
me; do you not love me, my dear Angelique? Oh! turn round, see how
happy your sister is, and know what felicity awaits you when you own
the sway of love."
Angelique, a young maiden of seventeen summers, who must have
suffered the torments of Tantalus during the night, and who only
wishes for a pretext to shew that she has forgiven her sister, turns
round, and covering her sister with kisses, confesses that she has
not closed her eyes through the night.
"Then forgive likewise, darling Angelique, forgive him who loves me,
and whom I adore," says Lucrezia.
Unfathomable power of the god who conquers all human beings!
"Angelique hates me," I say, "I dare not...."
"No, I do not hate you!" answers the charming girl.
"Kiss her, dearest," says Lucrezia, pushing me towards her sister,
and pleased to see her in my arms motionless and languid.
But sentiment, still more than love, forbids me to deprive Lucrezia
of the proof of my gratitude, and I turn to her with all the rapture
of a beginner, feeling that my ardour is increased by Angelique's
ecstasy, as for the first time she witnesses the amorous contest.
Lucrezia, dying of enjoyment, entreats me to stop, but, as I do not
listen to her prayer, she tricks me, and the sweet Angelique makes
her first sacrifice to the mother of love. It is thus, very likely,
that when the gods inhabited this earth, the voluptuous Arcadia, in
love with the soft and pleasing breath of Zephyrus, one day opened
her arms, and was fecundated.
Lucrezia was astonished and delighted, and covered us both with
kisses. Angelique, as happy as her sister, expired deliciously in my
arms for the third time, and she seconded me with so much loving
ardour, that it seemed to me I was tasting happiness for the first
time.
Phoebus had left the nuptial couch, and his rays were already
diffusing light over the universe; and that light, reaching us
through the closed shutters, gave me warning to quit the place; we
exchanged the most loving adieus, I left my two divinities and
retired to my own room. A few minutes afterwards, the cheerful voice
of the advocate was heard in the chamber of the sisters; he was
reproaching them for sleeping too long! Then he knocked at my door,
threatening to bring the ladies to me, and went away, saying that he
would send me the hair-dresser.
After many ablutions and a careful toilet, I thought I could skew my
face, and I presented myself coolly in the drawing-room. The two
sisters were there with the other members of our society, and I was
delighted with their rosy cheeks. Lucrezia was frank and gay, and
beamed with happiness; Angelique, as fresh as the morning dew, was
more radiant than usual, but fidgety, and carefully avoided looking
me in the face. I saw that my useless attempts to catch her eyes
made her smile, and I remarked to her mother, rather mischievously,
that it was a pity Angelique used paint for her face. She was duped
by this stratagem, and compelled me to pass a handkerchief over her
face, and was then obliged to look at me. I offered her my
apologies, and Don Francisco appeared highly pleased that the
complexion of his intended had met with such triumph.
After breakfast we took a walk through the garden, and, finding
myself alone with Lucrezia, I expostulated tenderly with her for
having almost thrown her sister in my arms.
"Do not reproach me," she said, "when I deserve praise. I have
brought light into the darkness of my charming sister's soul; I have
initiated her in the sweetest of mysteries, and now, instead of
pitying me, she must envy me. Far from having hatred for you, she
must love you dearly, and as I am so unhappy as to have to part from
you very soon, my beloved, I leave her to you; she will replace me."
"Ah, Lucrezia! how can I love her?"
"Is she not a charming girl?"
"No doubt of it; but my adoration for you is a shield against any
other love. Besides Don Francisco must, of course, entirely
monopolize her, and I do not wish to cause coolness between them, or
to ruin the peace of their home. I am certain your sister is not
like you, and I would bet that, even now, she upbraids herself for
having given way to the ardour of her temperament:"
"Most likely; but, dearest, I am sorry to say my husband expects to
obtain judgment in the course of this week, and then the short
instants of happiness will for ever be lost to me."
This was sad news indeed, and to cause a diversion at the breakfast-
table I took much notice of the generous Don Francisco, and promised
to compose a nuptial song for his wedding-day, which had been fixed
for the early part of January.
We returned to Rome, and for the three hours that she was with me in
my vis-a-vis, Lucrezia had no reason to think that my ardour was at
all abated. But when we reached the city I was rather fatigued, and
proceeded at once to the palace.
Lucrezia had guessed rightly; her husband obtained his judgment three
or four days afterwards, and called upon me to announce their
departure for the day after the morrow; he expressed his warm
friendship for me, and by his invitation I spent the two last
evenings with Lucrezia, but we were always surrounded by the family.
The day of her departure, wishing to cause her an agreeable surprise,
I left Rome before them and waited for them at the place where I
thought they would put up for the night, but the advocate, having
been detained by several engagements, was detained in Rome, and they
only reached the place next day for dinner. We dined together, we
exchanged a sad, painful farewell, and they continued their journey
while I returned to Rome.
After the departure of this charming woman, I found myself in sort of
solitude very natural to a young man whose heart is not full of hope.
I passed whole days in my room, making extracts from the French
letters written by the cardinal, and his eminence was kind enough to
tell me that my extracts were judiciously made, but that he insisted
upon my not working so hard. The beautiful marchioness was present
when he paid me that compliment.
Since my second visit to her, I had not presented myself at her
house; she was consequently rather cool to me, and, glad of an
opportunity of making me feel her displeasure, she remarked to his
eminence that very likely work was a consolation to me in the great
void caused by the departure of Donna Lucrezia.
"I candidly confess, madam, that I have felt her loss deeply. She
was kind and generous; above all, she was indulgent when I did not
call often upon her. My friendship for her was innocent."
"I have no doubt of it, although your ode was the work of a poet
deeply in love."
"Oh!" said the kindly cardinal, "a poet cannot possibly write without
professing to be in love."
"But," replied the marchioness, "if the poet is really in love, he
has no need of professing a feeling which he possesses."
As she was speaking, the marchioness drew out of her pocket a paper
which she offered to his eminence.
"This is the ode," she said, "it does great honour to the poet, for
it is admitted to be a masterpiece by all the literati in Rome, and
Donna Lucrezia knows it by heart."
The cardinal read it over and returned it, smiling, and remarking
that, as he had no taste for Italian poetry, she must give herself
the pleasure of translating it into French rhyme if she wished him to
admire it.
"I only write French prose," answered the marchioness, "and a prose
translation destroys half the beauty of poetry. I am satisfied with
writing occasionally a little Italian poetry without any pretension
to poetical fame"
Those words were accompanied by a very significant glance in my
direction.
"I should consider myself fortunate, madam, if I could obtain the
happiness of admiring some of your poetry."
"Here is a sonnet of her ladyship's," said Cardinal S. C.
I took it respectfully, and I prepared to read it, but the amiable
marchioness told me to put it in my pocket and return it to the
cardinal the next day, although she did not think the sonnet worth so
much trouble. "If you should happen to go out in the morning," said
Cardinal S. C., "you could bring it back, and dine with me." Cardinal
Aquaviva immediately answered for me: "He will be sure to go out
purposely."
With a deep reverence, which expressed my thanks, I left the room
quietly and returned to my apartment, very impatient to read the
sonnet. Yet, before satisfying my wish, I could not help making some
reflections on the situation. I began to think myself somebody since
the gigantic stride I had made this evening at the cardinal's
assembly. The Marchioness de G. had shewn in the most open way the
interest she felt in me, and, under cover of her grandeur, had not
hesitated to compromise herself publicly by the most flattering
advances. But who would have thought of disapproving? A young abbe
like me, without any importance whatever, who could scarcely pretend
to her high protection! True, but she was precisely the woman to
grant it to those who, feeling themselves unworthy of it, dared not
shew any pretensions to her patronage. On that head, my modesty must
be evident to everyone, and the marchioness would certainly have
insulted me had she supposed me capable of sufficient vanity to fancy
that she felt the slightest inclination for me. No, such a piece of
self-conceit was not in accordance with my nature. Her cardinal
himself had invited me to dinner. Would he have done so if he had
admitted the possibility of the beautiful marchioness feeling
anything for me? Of course not, and he gave me an invitation to dine
with him only because he had understood, from the very words of the
lady, that I was just the sort of person with whom they could
converse for a few hours without any risk; to be sure, without any
risk whatever. Oh, Master Casanova! do you really think so?
Well, why should I put on a mask before my readers? They may think
me conceited if they please, but the fact of the matter is that I
felt sure of having made a conquest of the marchioness. I
congratulated myself because she had taken the first, most difficult,
and most important step. Had she not done so, I should never have
dared-to lay siege to her even in the most approved fashion; I should
never have even ventured to dream of winning her. It was only this
evening that I thought she might replace Lucrezia. She was
beautiful, young, full of wit and talent; she was fond of literary
pursuits, and very powerful in Rome; what more was necessary? Yet I
thought it would be good policy to appear ignorant of her inclination
for me, and to let her suppose from the very next day that I was in
love with her, but that my love appeared to me hopeless. I knew that
such a plan was infallible, because it saved her dignity. It seemed
to me that Father Georgi himself would be compelled to approve such
an undertaking, and I had remarked with great satisfaction that
Cardinal Acquaviva had expressed his delight at Cardinal S. C.'s
invitation--an honour which he had never yet bestowed on me himself.
This affair might have very important results for me.
I read the marchioness's sonnet, and found it easy, flowing, and well
written. It was composed in praise of the King of Prussia, who had
just conquered Silesia by a masterly stroke. As I was copying it,
the idea struck me to personify Silesia, and to make her, in answer
to the sonnet, bewail that Love (supposed to be the author of the
sonnet of the marchioness) could applaud the man who had conquered
her, when that conqueror was the sworn enemy of Love.
It is impossible for a man accustomed to write poetry to abstain when
a happy subject smiles upon his delighted imagination. If he
attempted to smother the poetical flame running through his veins it
would consume him. I composed my sonnet, keeping the same rhymes as
in the original, and, well pleased with my muse, I went to bed.
The next morning the Abbe Gama came in just as I had finished
recopying my sonnet, and said he would breakfast with me. He
complimented me upon the honour conferred on me by the invitation of
Cardinal S. C.
"But be prudent," he added, "for his eminence has the reputation of
being jealous:"
I thanked him for his friendly advice, taking care to assure him that
I had nothing to fear, because I did not feel the slightest
inclination for the handsome marchioness.
Cardinal S. C. received me with great kindness mingled with dignity,
to make me realize the importance of the favour he was bestowing upon
me.
"What do you think," he enquired, "of the sonnet?"
"Monsignor, it is perfectly written, and, what is more, it is a
charming composition. Allow me to return it to you with my thanks."
"She has much talent. I wish to shew you ten stanzas of her
composition, my dear abbe, but you must promise to be very discreet
about it."
"Your eminence may rely on me."
He opened his bureau and brought forth the stanzas of which he was
the subject. I read them, found them well written, but devoid of
enthusiasm; they were the work of a poet, and expressed love in the
words of passion, but were not pervaded by that peculiar feeling by
which true love is so easily discovered. The worthy cardinal was
doubtless guilty of a very great indiscretion, but self-love is the
cause of so many injudicious steps! I asked his eminence whether he
had answered the stanzas.
"No," he replied, "I have not; but would you feel disposed to lend me
your poetical pen, always under the seal of secrecy?"
"As to secrecy, monsignor, I promise it faithfully; but I am afraid
the marchioness will remark the difference between your style and
mine."
"She has nothing of my composition," said the cardinal; "I do not
think she supposes me a fine poet, and for that reason your stanzas
must be written in such a manner that she will not esteem them above
my abilities."
"I will write them with pleasure, monsignor, and your eminence can
form an opinion; if they do not seem good enough to be worthy of you,
they need not be given to the marchioness."
"That is well said. Will you write them at once?"
"What! now, monsignor? It is not like prose."
"Well, well! try to let me have them to-morrow."
We dined alone, and his eminence complimented me upon my excellent
appetite, which he remarked was as good as his own; but I was
beginning to understand my eccentric host, and, to flatter him, I
answered that he praised me more than I deserved, and that my
appetite was inferior to his. The singular compliment delighted him,
and I saw all the use I could make of his eminence.
Towards the end of the dinner, as we were conversing, the marchioness
made her appearance, and, as a matter of course, without being
announced. Her looks threw me into raptures; I thought her a perfect
beauty. She did not give the cardinal time to meet her, but sat down
near him, while I remained standing, according to etiquette.
Without appearing to notice me, the marchioness ran wittily over
various topics until coffee was brought in. Then, addressing herself
to me, she told me to sit down, just as if she was bestowing charity
upon me.
"By-the-by, abbe," she said, a minute after, "have you read my
sonnet?"
"Yes, madam, and I have had the honour to return it to his eminence.
I have found it so perfect that I am certain it must have cost you a
great deal of time."
"Time?" exclaimed the cardinal; "Oh! you do not know the
marchioness."
"Monsignor," I replied, "nothing can be done well without time, and
that is why I have not dared to chew to your eminence an answer to
the sonnet which I have written in half an hour."
"Let us see it, abbe," said the marchioness; "I want to read it."
"Answer of Silesia to Love." This title brought the most fascinating
blushes on her countenance. "But Love is not mentioned in the
sonnet," exclaimed the cardinal. "Wait," said the marchioness, "we
must respect the idea of the poet:"
She read the sonnet over and over, and thought that the reproaches
addressed by Silesia to Love were very just. She explained my idea
to the cardinal, making him understand why Silesia was offended at
having been conquered by the King of Prussia.
"Ah, I see, I see!" exclaimed the cardinal, full of joy; "Silesia is
a woman.... and the King of Prussia.... Oh! oh! that is really a
fine idea!" And the good cardinal laughed heartily for more than a
quarter of an hour. "I must copy that sonnet," he added, "indeed I
must have it."
"The abbe," said the obliging marchioness, "will save you the
trouble: I will dictate it to him."
I prepared to write, but his eminence suddenly exclaimed, "My dear
marchioness, this is wonderful; he has kept the same rhymes as in
your own sonnet: did you observe it?"
The beautiful marchioness gave me then a look of such expression that
she completed her conquest. I understood that she wanted me to know
the cardinal as well as she knew him; it was a kind of partnership in
which I was quite ready to play my part.
As soon as I had written the sonnet under the charming woman's
dictation, I took my leave, but not before the cardinal had told me
that he expected me to dinner the next day.
I had plenty of work before me, for the ten stanzas I had to compose
were of the most singular character, and I lost no time in shutting
myself up in my room to think of them. I had to keep my balance
between two points of equal difficulty, and I felt that great care
was indispensable. I had to place the marchioness in such a position
that she could pretend to believe the cardinal the author of the
stanzas, and, at the same time, compel her to find out that I had
written them, and that I was aware of her knowing it. It was
necessary to speak so carefully that not one expression should
breathe even the faintest hope on my part, and yet to make my stanzas
blaze with the ardent fire of my love under the thin veil of poetry.
As for the cardinal, I knew well enough that the better the stanzas
were written, the more disposed he would be to sign them. All I
wanted was clearness, so difficult to obtain in poetry, while a
little doubtful darkness would have been accounted sublime by my new
Midas. But, although I wanted to please him, the cardinal was only a
secondary consideration, and the handsome marchioness the principal
object.
As the marchioness in her verses had made a pompous enumeration of
every physical and moral quality of his eminence, it was of course
natural that he should return the compliment, and here my task was
easy. At last having mastered my subject well, I began my work, and
giving full career to my imagination and to my feelings I composed
the ten stanzas, and gave the finishing stroke with these two
beautiful lines from Ariosto:
Le angelicche bellezze nate al cielo
Non si ponno celar sotto alcum velo.
Rather pleased with my production, I presented it the next day to the
cardinal, modestly saying that I doubted whether he would accept the
authorship of so ordinary a composition. He read the stanzas twice
over without taste or expression, and said at last that they were
indeed not much, but exactly what he wanted. He thanked me
particularly for the two lines from Ariosto, saying that they would
assist in throwing the authorship upon himself, as they would prove
to the lady for whom they were intended that he had not been able to
write them without borrowing. And, as to offer me some consolation,
he told me that, in recopying the lines, he would take care to make a
few mistakes in the rhythm to complete the illusion.
We dined earlier than the day before, and I withdrew immediately
after dinner so as to give him leisure to make a copy of the stanzas
before the arrival of the lady.
The next evening I met the marchioness at the entrance of the palace,
and offered her my arm to come out of her carriage. The instant she
alighted, she said to me,
"If ever your stanzas and mine become known in Rome, you may be sure
of my enmity."
"Madam, I do not understand what you mean."
"I expected you to answer me in this manner," replied the
marchioness, "but recollect what I have said."
I left her at the door of the reception-room, and thinking that she
was really angry with me, I went away in despair. "My stanzas," I
said to myself, "are too fiery; they compromise her dignity, and her
pride is offended at my knowing the secret of her intrigue with
Cardinal S. C. Yet, I feel certain that the dread she expresses of
my want of discretion is only feigned, it is but a pretext to turn me
out of her favour. She has not understood my reserve! What would
she have done, if I had painted her in the simple apparel of the
golden age, without any of those veils which modesty imposes upon her
sex!" I was sorry I had not done so. I undressed and went to bed.
My head was scarcely on the pillow when the Abbe Gama knocked at my
door. I pulled the door-string, and coming in, he said,
"My dear sir, the cardinal wishes to see you, and I am sent by the
beautiful marchioness and Cardinal S. C., who desire you to come
down."
"I am very sorry, but I cannot go; tell them the truth; I am ill in
bed."
As the abbe did not return, I judged that he had faithfully acquitted
himself of the commission, and I spent a quiet night. I was not yet
dressed in the morning, when I received a note from Cardinal S. C.
inviting me to dinner, saying that he had just been bled, and that he
wanted to speak to me: he concluded by entreating me to come to him
early, even if I did not feel well.
The invitation was pressing; I could not guess what had caused it,
but the tone of the letter did not forebode anything unpleasant. I
went to church, where I was sure that Cardinal Acquaviva would see
me, and he did. After mass, his eminence beckoned to me.
"Are you truly ill?" he enquired.
"No, monsignor, I was only sleepy."
"I am very glad to hear it; but you are wrong, for you are loved.
Cardinal S. C. has been bled this morning."
"I know it, monsignor. The cardinal tells me so in this note, in
which he invites me to dine with him, with your excellency's
permission."
"Certainly. But this is amusing! I did not know that he wanted a
third person."
"Will there be a third person?"
"I do not know, and I have no curiosity about it."
The cardinal left me, and everybody imagined that his eminence had
spoken to me of state affairs.
I went to my new Maecenas, whom I found in bed.
"I am compelled to observe strict diet," he said to me; "I shall have
to let you dine alone, but you will not lose by it as my cook does
not know it. What I wanted to tell you is that your stanzas are, I
am afraid, too pretty, for the marchioness adores them. If you had
read them to me in the same way that she does, I could never have
made up my mind to offer them." "But she believes them to be written
by your eminence?"
"Of course."
"That is the essential point, monsignor."
"Yes; but what should I do if she took it into her head to compose
some new stanzas for me?"
"You would answer through the same pen, for you can dispose of me
night and day, and rely upon the utmost secrecy."
"I beg of you to accept this small present; it is some negrillo snuff
from Habana, which Cardinal Acquaviva has given me."
The snuff was excellent, but the object which contained it was still
better. It was a splendid gold-enamelled box. I received it with
respect, and with the expression of the deepest gratitude.
If his eminence did not know how to write poetry, at least he knew
how to be generous, and in a delicate manner, and that science is, at
least in my estimation, superior to the other for a great nobleman.
At noon, and much to my surprise, the beautiful marchioness made her
appearance in the most elegant morning toilet.
"If I had known you were in good company," she said to the cardinal,
"I would not have come."
"I am sure, dear marchioness, you will not find our dear abbe in the
way."
"No, for I believe him to be honest and true."
I kept at a respectful distance, ready to go away with my splendid
snuff-box at the first jest she might hurl at me.
The cardinal asked her if she intended to remain to dinner.
"Yes," she answered; "but I shall not enjoy my dinner, for I hate to
eat alone."
"If you would honour him so far, the abbe would keep you company."
She gave me a gracious look, but without uttering one word.
This was the first time I had anything to do with a woman of quality,
and that air of patronage, whatever kindness might accompany it,
always put me out of temper, for I thought it made love out of the
question. However, as we were in the presence of the cardinal, I
fancied that she might be right in treating me in that fashion.
The table was laid out near the cardinal's bed, and the marchioness,
who ate hardly anything, encouraged me in my good appetite.
"I have told you that the abbe is equal to me in that respect," said
S. C.
"I truly believe," answered the marchioness, "that he does not remain
far behind you; but," added she with flattery, "you are more dainty
in your tastes."
"Would her ladyship be so good as to tell me in what I have appeared
to her to be a mere glutton? For in all things I like only dainty
and exquisite morsels."
"Explain what you mean by saying in all things," said the cardinal.
Taking the liberty of laughing, I composed a few impromptu verses in
which I named all I thought dainty and exquisite. The marchioness
applauded, saying that she admired my courage.
"My courage, madam, is due to you, for I am as timid as a hare when I
am not encouraged; you are the author of my impromptu."
"I admire you. As for myself, were I encouraged by Apollo himself, I
could not compose four lines without paper and ink."
"Only give way boldly to your genius, madam, and you will produce
poetry worthy of heaven."
"That--is my opinion, too," said the cardinal. "I entreat you to
give me permission to skew your ten stanzas to the abbe."
"They are not very good, but I have no objection provided it remains
between us."
The cardinal gave me, then, the stanzas composed by the marchioness,
and I read them aloud with all the expression, all the feeling
necessary to such reading.
"How well you have read those stanzas!" said the marchioness; "I can
hardly believe them to be my own composition; I thank you very much.
But have the goodness to give the benefit of your reading to the
stanzas which his eminence has written in answer to mine. They
surpass them much."
"Do not believe it, my dear abbe," said the cardinal, handing them to
me. "Yet try not to let them lose anything through your reading."
There was certainly no need of his eminence enforcing upon me such a
recommendation; it was my own poetry. I could not have read it
otherwise than in my best style, especially when I had before me the
beautiful woman who had inspired them, and when, besides, Bacchus was
in me giving courage to Apollo as much as the beautiful eyes of the
marchioness were fanning into an ardent blaze the fire already
burning through my whole being.
I read the stanzas with so much expression that the cardinal was
enraptured, but I brought a deep carnation tint upon the cheeks of
the lovely marchioness when I came to the description of those
beauties which the imagination of the poet is allowed to guess at,
but which I could not, of course, have gazed upon. She snatched the
paper from my hands with passion, saying that I was adding verses of
my own; it was true, but I did not confess it. I was all aflame, and
the fire was scorching her as well as me.
The cardinal having fallen asleep, she rose and went to take a seat
on the balcony; I followed her. She had a rather high seat; I stood
opposite to her, so that her knee touched the fob-pocket in which was
my watch. What a position! Taking hold gently of one of her hands,
I told her that she had ignited in my soul a devouring flame, that I
adored her, and that, unless some hope was left to me of finding her
sensible to my sufferings, I was determined to fly away from her for
ever.
"Yes, beautiful marchioness, pronounce my sentence."
"I fear you are a libertine and an unfaithful lover."
"I am neither one nor the other."
With these words I folded her in my arms, and I pressed upon her
lovely lips, as pure as a rose, an ardent kiss which she received
with the best possible grace. This kiss, the forerunner of the most
delicious pleasures, had imparted to my hands the greatest boldness;
I was on the point of.... but the marchioness, changing her
position, entreated me so sweetly to respect her, that, enjoying new
voluptuousness through my very obedience, I not only abandoned an
easy victory, but I even begged her pardon, which I soon read in the
most loving look.
She spoke of Lucrezia, and was pleased with my discretion. She then
alluded to the cardinal, doing her best to make me believe that there
was nothing between them but a feeling of innocent friendship. Of
course I had my opinion on that subject, but it was my interest to
appear to believe every word she uttered. We recited together lines
from our best poets, and all the time she was still sitting down and
I standing before her, with my looks rapt in the contemplation of the
most lovely charms, to which I remained insensible in appearance, for
I had made up my mind not to press her that evening for greater
favours than those I had already received.
The cardinal, waking from his long and peaceful siesta, got up and
joined us in his night-cap, and good-naturedly enquired whether we
had not felt impatient at his protracted sleep. I remained until
dark and went home highly pleased with my day's work, but determined
to keep my ardent desires in check until the opportunity for complete
victory offered itself.
From that day, the charming marchioness never ceased to give me the
marks of her particular esteem, without the slightest constraint; I
was reckoning upon the carnival, which was close at hand, feeling
certain that the more I should spare her delicacy, the more she would
endeavour to find the opportunity of rewarding my loyalty, and of
crowning with happiness my loving constancy. But fate ordained
otherwise; Dame Fortune turned her back upon me at the very moment
when the Pope and Cardinal Acquaviva were thinking of giving me a
really good position.
The Holy Father had congratulated me upon the beautiful snuff-box
presented to me by Cardinal S. C., but he had been careful never to
name the marchioness. Cardinal Acquaviva expressed openly his
delight at his brother-cardinal having given me a taste of his
negrillo snuff in so splendid an envelope; the Abbe Gama, finding me
so forward on the road to success, did not venture to counsel me any
more, and the virtuous Father Georgi gave me but one piece of advice-
namely, to cling to the lovely marchioness and not to make any other
acquaintances.
Such was my position-truly a brilliant one, when, on Christmas Day,
the lover of Barbara Dalacqua entered my room, locked the door, and
threw himself on the sofa, exclaiming that I saw him for the last
time.
"I only come to beg of you some good advice."
"On what subject can I advise you?"
"Take this and read it; it will explain everything."
It was a letter from his mistress; the contents were these:
"I am pregnant of a child, the pledge of our mutual love; I can no
longer have any doubt of it, my beloved, and I forewarn you that I
have made up my mind to quit Rome alone, and to go away to die where
it may please God, if you refuse to take care of me and save me. I
would suffer anything, do anything, rather than let my father
discover the truth."
"If you are a man of honour," I said, "you cannot abandon the poor
girl. Marry her in spite of your father, in spite of her own, and
live together honestly. The eternal Providence of God will watch
over you and help you in your difficulties:"
My advice seemed to bring calm to his mind, and he left me more
composed.
At the beginning of January, 1744, he called again, looking very
cheerful. "I have hired," he said, "the top floor of the house next
to Barbara's dwelling; she knows it, and to-night I will gain her
apartment through one of the windows of the garret, and we will make
all our arrangements to enable me to carry her off. I have made up
my mind; I have decided upon taking her to Naples, and I will take
with us the servant who, sleeping in the garret, had to be made a
confidante of."
"God speed you, my friend!"
A week afterwards, towards eleven o'clock at night, he entered my
room accompanied by an abbe.
"What do you want so late?"
"I wish to introduce you to this handsome abbe."
I looked up, and to my consternation I recognized Barbara.
"Has anyone seen you enter the house?" I enquired.
"No; and if we had been seen, what of it? It is only an abbe. We
now pass every night together."
"I congratulate you."
"The servant is our friend; she has consented to follow us, and all
our arrangements are completed."
"I wish you every happiness. Adieu. I beg you to leave me."
Three or four days after that visit, as I was walking with the Abbe
Gama towards the Villa Medicis, he told me deliberately that there
would be an execution during the night in the Piazza di Spagna.
"What kind of execution?"
"The bargello or his lieutenant will come to execute some 'ordine
santissimo', or to visit some suspicious dwelling in order to arrest
and carry off some person who does not expect anything of the sort."
"How do you know it?"
"His eminence has to know it, for the Pope would not venture to
encroach upon his jurisdiction without asking his permission."
"And his eminence has given it?"
"Yes, one of the Holy Father's auditors came for that purpose this
morning."
"But the cardinal might have refused?"
"Of course; but such a permission is never denied."
"And if the person to be arrested happened to be under the protection
of the cardinal--what then?"
"His eminence would give timely warning to that person."
We changed the conversation, but the news had disturbed me. I
fancied that the execution threatened Barbara and her lover, for her
father's house was under the Spanish jurisdiction. I tried to see
the young man but I could not succeed in meeting him, and I was
afraid lest a visit at his home or at M. Dalacqua's dwelling might
implicate me. Yet it is certain that this last consideration would
not have stopped me if I had been positively sure that they were
threatened; had I felt satisfied of their danger, I would have braved
everything.
About midnight, as I was ready to go to bed, and just as I was
opening my door to take the key from outside, an abbe rushed panting
into my room and threw himself on a chair. It was Barbara; I guessed
what had taken place, and, foreseeing all the evil consequences her
visit might have for me, deeply annoyed and very anxious, I upbraided
her for having taken refuge in my room, and entreated her to go away.
Fool that I was! Knowing that I was only ruining myself without any
chance of saving her, I ought to have compelled her to leave my room,
I ought to have called for the servants if she had refused to
withdraw. But I had not courage enough, or rather I voluntarily
obeyed the decrees of destiny.
When she heard my order to go away, she threw herself on her knees,
and melting into tears, she begged, she entreated my pity!
Where is the heart of steel which is not softened by the tears, by
the prayers of a pretty and unfortunate woman? I gave way, but I
told her that it was ruin for both of us.
"No one," she replied, "has seen me, I am certain, when I entered the
mansion and came up to your room, and I consider my visit here a week
ago as most fortunate; otherwise, I never could have known which was
your room."
"Alas! how much better if you had never come! But what has become
of your lover?"
"The 'sbirri' have carried him off, as well as the servant. I will
tell you all about it. My lover had informed me that a carriage
would wait to-night at the foot of the flight of steps before the
Church of Trinita del Monte, and that he would be there himself. I
entered his room through the garret window an hour ago. There I put
on this disguise, and, accompanied by the servant, proceeded to meet
him. The servant walked a few yards before me, and carried a parcel
of my things. At the corner of the street, one of the buckles of my
shoes being unfastened, I stopped an instant, and the servant went
on, thinking that I was following her. She reached the carriage, got
into it, and, as I was getting nearer, the light from a lantern
disclosed to me some thirty sbirri; at the same instant, one of them
got on the driver's box and drove off at full speed, carrying off the
servant, whom they must have mistaken for me, and my lover who was in
the coach awaiting me. What could I do at such a fearful moment? I
could not go back to my father's house, and I followed my first
impulse which brought me here. And here I am! You tell me that my
presence will cause your ruin; if it is so, tell me what to do; I
feel I am dying; but find some expedient and I am ready to do
anything, even to lay my life down, rather than be the cause of your
ruin."
But she wept more bitterly than ever.
Her position was so sad that I thought it worse even than mine,
although I could almost fancy I saw ruin before me despite my
innocence.
"Let me," I said, "conduct you to your father; I feel sure of
obtaining your pardon."
But my proposal only enhanced her fears.
"I am lost," she exclaimed; "I know my father. Ah! reverend sir,
turn me out into the street, and abandon me to my miserable fate."
No doubt I ought to have done so, and I would have done it if the
consciousness of what was due to my own interest had been stronger
than my feeling of pity. But her tears! I have often said it, and
those amongst my readers who have experienced it, must be of the same
opinion; there is nothing on earth more irresistible than two
beautiful eyes shedding tears, when the owner of those eyes is
handsome, honest, and unhappy. I found myself physically unable to
send her away.
"My poor girl," I said at last, "when daylight comes, and that will
not be long, for it is past midnight, what do you intend to do?"
"I must leave the palace," she replied, sobbing. "In this disguise
no one can recognize me; I will leave Rome, and I will walk straight
before me until I fall on the ground, dying with grief and fatigue."
With these words she fell on the floor. She was choking; I could see
her face turn blue; I was in the greatest distress.
I took off her neck-band, unlaced her stays under the abbe's dress, I
threw cold water in her face, and I finally succeeded in bringing her
back to consciousness.
The night was extremely cold, and there was no fire in my room. I
advised her to get into my bed, promising to respect her.
"Alas! reverend sir, pity is the only feeling with which I can now
inspire anyone."
And, to speak the truth I was too deeply moved, and, at the same
time, too full of anxiety, to leave room in me for any desire.
Having induced her to go to bed, and her extreme weakness preventing
her from doing anything for herself, I undressed her and put her to
bed, thus proving once more that compassion will silence the most
imperious requirements of nature, in spite of all the charms which
would, under other circumstances, excite to the highest degree the
senses of a man. I lay down near her in my clothes, and woke her at
day-break. Her strength was somewhat restored, she dressed herself
alone, and I left my room, telling her to keep quiet until my return.
I intended to proceed to her father's house, and to solicit her
pardon, but, having perceived some suspicious-looking men loitering
about the palace, I thought it wise to alter my mind, and went to a
coffeehouse.
I soon ascertanied that a spy was watching my movements at a
distance; but I did not appear to notice him, and having taken some
chocolate and stored a few biscuits in my pocket, I returned towards
the palace, apparently without any anxiety or hurry, always followed
by the same individual. I judged that the bargello, having failed in
his project, was now reduced to guesswork, and I was strengthened in
that view of the case when the gate-keeper of the palace told me,
without my asking any question, as I came in, that an arrest had been
attempted during the night, and had not succeeded. While he was
speaking, one of the auditors of the Vicar-General called to enquire
when he could see the Abby Gama. I saw that no time was to be lost,
and went up to my room to decide upon what was to be done.
I began by making the poor girl eat a couple of biscuits soaked in
some Canary wine, and I took her afterwards to the top story of the
palace, where, leaving her in a not very decent closet which was not
used by anyone, I told her to wait for me.
My servant came soon after, and I ordered him to lock the door of my
room as soon as he finished cleaning it, and to bring me the key at
the Abbe Gama's apartment, where I was going. I found Gama in
conversation with the auditor sent by the Vicar-General. As soon as
he had dismissed him, he came to me, and ordered his servant to serve
the chocolate. When we were left alone he gave me an account of his
interview with the auditor, who had come to entreat his eminence to
give orders to turn out of his palace a person who was supposed to
have taken refuge in it about midnight. "We must wait," said the
abbe, "until the cardinal is visible, but I am quite certain that, if
anyone has taken refuge here unknown to him, his eminence will compel
that person to leave the palace." We then spoke of the weather and
other trifles until my servant brought my key. Judging that I had at
least an hour to spare, I bethought myself of a plan which alone
could save Barbara from shame and misery.
Feeling certain that I was unobserved, I went up to my poor prisoner
and made her write the following words in French:
"I am an honest girl, monsignor, though I am disguised in the dress
of an abbe. I entreat your eminence to allow me to give my name only
to you and in person. I hope that, prompted by the great goodness of
your soul, your eminence will save me from dishonour." I gave her the
necessary instructions, as to sending the note to the cardinal,
assuring her that he would have her brought to him as soon as he read
it.
"When you are in his presence," I added, "throw yourself on your
knees, tell him everything without any concealment, except as regards
your having passed the night in my room. You must be sure not to
mention that circumstance, for the cardinal must remain in complete
ignorance of my knowing anything whatever of this intrigue. Tell him
that, seeing your lover carried off, you rushed to his palace and ran
upstairs as far as you could go, and that after a most painful night
Heaven inspired you with the idea of writing to him to entreat his
pity. I feel certain that, one way or the other, his eminence will
save you from dishonour, and it certainly is the only chance you have
of being united to the man you love so dearly."
She promised to follow 'my instructions faithfully, and, coming down,
I had my hair dressed and went to church, where the cardinal saw me.
I then went out and returned only for dinner, during which the only
subject of conversation was the adventure of the night. Gama alone
said nothing, and I followed his example, but I understood from all
the talk going on round the table that the cardinal had taken my poor
Barbara under his protection. That was all I wanted, and thinking
that I had nothing more to fear I congratulated myself, in petto,
upon my stratagem, which had, I thought, proved a master-stroke.
After dinner, finding myself alone with Gama, I asked him what was
the meaning of it all, and this is what he told me:
"A father, whose name I do not know yet, had requested the assistance
of the Vicar-General to prevent his son from carrying off a young
girl, with whom he intended to leave the States of the Church; the
pair had arranged to meet at midnight in this very square, and the
Vicar, having previously obtained the consent of our cardinal, as I
told you yesterday, gave orders to the bargello to dispose his men in
such a way as to catch the young people in the very act of running
away, and to arrest them. The orders were executed, but the 'sbirri'
found out, when they returned to the bargello, that they had met with
only a half success, the woman who got out of the carriage with the
young man not belonging to that species likely to be carried off.
Soon afterwards a spy informed the bargello that, at the very moment
the arrest was executed, he had seen a young abbe run away very
rapidly and take refuge in this palace, and the suspicion immediately
arose that it might be the missing young lady in the disguise of an
ecclesiastic. The bargello reported to the Vicar-General the failure
of his men, as well as the account given by the spy, and the Prelate,
sharing the suspicion of the police, sent to his eminence, our
master, requesting him to have the person in question, man or woman,
turned out of the palace, unless such persons should happen to be
known to his excellency, and therefore above suspicion. Cardinal
Acquaviva was made acquainted with these circumstances at nine this
morning through the auditor you met in my room, and he promised to
have the person sent away unless she belonged to his household.
"According to his promise, the cardinal ordered the palace to be
searched, but, in less than a quarter of an hour, the major-domo
received orders to stop, and the only reason for these new
instructions must be this:
"I am told by the major-domo that at nine o'clock exactly a very
handsome, young abbe, whom he immediately judged to be a girl in
disguise, asked him to deliver a note to his eminence, and that the
cardinal, after reading it, had desired the said abbe be brought to
his apartment, which he has not left since. As the order to stop
searching the palace was given immediately after the introduction of
the abbe to the cardinal, it is easy enough to suppose that this
ecclesiastic is no other than the young girl missed by the police,
who took refuge in the palace in which she must have passed the whole
night."
"I suppose," said I, "that his eminence will give her up to-day, if
not to the bargello, at least to the Vicar-General."
"No, not even to the Pope himself," answered Gama. "You have not yet
a right idea of the protection of our cardinal, and that protection
is evidently granted to her, since the young person is not only in
the palace of his eminence, but also in his own apartment and under
his own guardianship."
The whole affair being in itself very interesting, my attention could
not appear extraordinary to Gama, however suspicious he might be
naturally, and I was certain that he would not have told me anything
if he had guessed the share I had taken in the adventure, and the
interest I must have felt in it.
The next day, Gama came to my room with a radiant countenance, and
informed me that the Cardinal-Vicar was aware of the ravisher being
my friend, and supposed that I was likewise the friend of the girl,
as she was the daughter of my French teacher. "Everybody," he added,
"is satisfied that you knew the whole affair, and it is natural to
suspect that the poor girl spent the night in your room. I admire
your prudent reserve during our conversation of yesterday. You kept
so well on your guard that I would have sworn you knew nothing
whatever of the affair."
"And it is the truth," I answered, very seriously; "I have only
learned all the circumstances from you this moment. I know the girl,
but I have not seen her for six weeks, since I gave up my French
lessons; I am much better acquainted with the young man, but he never
confided his project to me. However, people may believe whatever
they please. You say that it is natural for the girl to have passed
the night in my room, but you will not mind my laughing in the face
of those who accept their own suppositions as realities."
"That, my dear friend," said the abbe, "is one of the vices of the
Romans; happy those who can afford to laugh at it; but this slander
may do you harm, even in the mind of our cardinal."
As there was no performance at the Opera that night, I went to the
cardinal's reception; I found no difference towards me either in the
cardinal's manners, or in those of any other person, and the
marchioness was even more gracious than usual.
After dinner, on the following day, Gama informed me that the
cardinal had sent the young girl to a convent in which she would be
well treated at his eminence's expense, and that he was certain that
she would leave it only to become the wife of the young doctor.
"I should be very happy if it should turn out so," I replied; "for
they are both most estimable people."
Two days afterwards, I called upon Father Georgi, and he told me,
with an air of sorrow, that the great news of the day in Rome was the
failure of the attempt to carry off Dalacqua's daughter, and that all
the honour of the intrigue was given to me, which displeased him
much. I told him what I had already told Gama, and he appeared to
believe me, but he added that in Rome people did not want to know
things as they truly were, but only as they wished them to be.
"It is known, that you have been in the habit of going every morning
to Dalacqua's house; it is known that the young man often called on
you; that is quite enough. People do not care, to know the
circumstances which might counteract the slander, but only those,
likely to give it new force for slander is vastly relished in the
Holy City. Your innocence will not prevent the whole adventure being
booked to your account, if, in forty years time you were proposed as
pope in the conclave."
During the following days the fatal adventure began to cause me more
annoyance than I could express, for everyone mentioned it to me, and
I could see clearly that people pretended to believe what I said only
because they did not dare to do otherwise. The marchioness told me
jeeringly that the Signora Dalacqua had contracted peculiar
obligations towards me, but my sorrow was very great when, during the
last days of the carnival, I remarked that Cardinal Acquaviva's
manner had become constrained, although I was the only person who
observed the change.
The noise made by the affair was, however, beginning to subside,
when, in the first days of Lent, the cardinal desired me to come to
his private room, and spoke as follows
"The affair of the girl Dalacqua is now over; it is no longer spoken
of, but the verdict of the public is that you and I have profited by
the clumsiness of the young man who intended to carry her off. In
reality I care little for such a verdict, for, under similar
circumstances, I should always act in a similar manner, and I do not
wish to know that which no one can compel you to confess, and which,
as a man of honour, you must not admit. If you had no previous
knowledge of the intrigue, and had actually turned the girl out of
your room (supposing she did come to you), you would have been guilty
of a wrong and cowardly action, because you would have sealed her
misery for the remainder of her days, and it would not have caused
you to escape the suspicion of being an accomplice, while at the same
time it would have attached to you the odium of dastardly treachery.
Notwithstanding all I have just said, you can easily imagine that, in
spite of my utter contempt for all gossiping fools, I cannot openly
defy them. I therefore feel myself compelled to ask you not only to
quit my service, but even to leave Rome. I undertake to supply you
with an honourable pretext for your departure, so as to insure you
the continuation of the respect which you may have secured through
the marks of esteem I have bestowed upon you. I promise you to
whisper in the ear of any person you may choose, and even to inform
everybody, that you are going on an important mission which I have
entrusted to you. You have only to name the country where you want
to go; I have friends everywhere, and can recommend you to such
purpose that you will be sure to find employment. My letters of
recommendation will be in my own handwriting, and nobody need know
where you are going. Meet me to-morrow at the Villa Negroni, and let
me know where my letters are to be addressed. You must be ready to
start within a week. Believe me, I am sorry to lose you; but the
sacrifice is forced upon me by the most absurd prejudice. Go now,
and do not let me witness your grief."
He spoke the last words because he saw my eyes filling with tears,
and he did not give me time to answer. Before leaving his room, I
had the strength of mind to compose myself, and I put on such an air
of cheerfulness that the Abbe Gama, who took me to his room to drink
some coffee, complimented me upon my happy looks.
"I am sure," he said, "that they are caused by the conversation you
have had with his eminence."
"You are right; but you do not know the sorrow at my heart which I
try not to shew outwardly."
"What sorrow?"
"I am afraid of failing in a difficult mission which the cardinal has
entrusted me with this morning. I am compelled to conceal how little
confidence I feel in myself in order not to lessen the good opinion
his eminence is pleased to entertain of me."
"If my advice can be of any service to you, pray dispose of me; but
you are quite right to chew yourself calm and cheerful. Is it any
business to transact in Rome?"
"No; it is a journey I shall have to undertake in a week or ten
days."
"Which way?"
"Towards the west."
"Oh! I am not curious to know."
I went out alone and took a walk in the Villa Borghese, where I spent
two hours wrapped in dark despair. I liked Rome, I was on the high
road to fortune, and suddenly I found myself in the abyss, without
knowing where to go, and with all my hopes scattered to the winds. I
examined my conduct, I judged myself severely, I could not find
myself guilty of any crime save of too much kindness, but I perceived
how right the good Father Georgi had been. My duty was not only to
take no part in the intrigue of the two love, but also to change my
French teacher the moment I beard of it; but this was like calling in
a doctor after death has struck the patient. Besides, young as I
was, having no experience yet of misfortune, and still less of the
wickedness of society, it was very difficult for me to have that
prudence which a man gains only by long intercourse with the world.
"Where shall I go?" This was the question which seemed to me
impossible of solution. I thought of it all through the night, and
through the morning, but I thought in vain; after Rome, I was
indifferent where I went to!
In the evening, not caring for any supper, I had gone to my room; the
Abbe Gama came to me with a request from the cardinal not to accept
any invitation to dinner for the next day, as he wanted to speak to
me. I therefore waited upon his eminence the next day at the Villa
Negroni; he was walking with his secretary, whom he dismissed the
moment he saw me. As soon as we were alone, I gave him all the
particulars of the intrigue of the two lovers, and I expressed in the
most vivid manner the sorrow I felt at leaving his service.
"I have no hope of success," I added, "for I am certain that Fortune
will smile upon me only as long as I am near your eminence."
For nearly an hour I told him all the grief with which my heart was
bursting, weeping bitterly; yet I could not move him from his
decision. Kindly, but firmly he pressed me to tell him to what part
of Europe I wanted to go, and despair as much as vexation made me
name Constantinople.
"Constantinople!" he exclaimed, moving back a step or two.
"Yes, monsignor, Constantinople," I repeated, wiping away my tears.
The prelate, a man of great wit, but a Spaniard to the very back-
bone, after remaining silent a few minutes, said, with a smile,
"I am glad you have not chosen Ispahan, as I should have felt rather
embarrassed. When do you wish to go?"
"This day week, as your eminence has ordered me."
"Do you intend to sail from Naples or from Venice?"
"From Venice."
"I will give you such a passport as will be needed, for you will find
two armies in winter-quarters in the Romagna. It strikes me that you
may tell everybody that I sent you to Constantinople, for nobody will
believe you."
This diplomatic suggestion nearly made me smile. The cardinal told
me that I should dine with him, and he left me to join his secretary.
When I returned to the palace, thinking of the choice I had made, I
said to myself, "Either I am mad, or I am obeying the impulse of a
mysterious genius which sends me to Constantinople to work out my
fate." I was only astonished that the cardinal had so readily
accepted my choice. "Without any doubt," I thought, "he did not wish
me to believe that he had boasted of more than he could achieve, in
telling me that he had friends everywhere. But to whom can he
recommend me in Constantinople? I have not the slightest idea, but
to Constantinople I must go."
I dined alone with his eminence; he made a great show of peculiar
kindness and I of great satisfaction, for my self-pride, stronger
even than my sorrow, forbade me to let anyone guess that I was in
disgrace. My deepest grief was, however, to leave the marchioness,
with whom I was in love, and from whom I had not obtained any
important favour.
Two days afterwards, the cardinal gave me a passport for Venice, and
a sealed letter addressed to Osman Bonneval, Pacha of Caramania, in
Constantinople. There was no need of my saying anything to anyone,
but, as the cardinal had not forbidden me to do it, I shewed the
address on the letter to all my acquaintances.
The Chevalier de Lezze, the Venetian Ambassador, gave me a letter for
a wealthy Turk, a very worthy man who had been his friend; Don Gaspar
and Father Georgi asked me to write to them, but the Abbe Gams,
laughed, and said he was quite sure I was not going to
Constantinople.
I went to take my farewell of Donna Cecilia, who had just received a
letter from Lucrezia, imparting the news that she would soon be a
mother. I also called upon Angelique and Don Francisco, who had
lately been married and had not invited me to the wedding.
When I called to take Cardinal Acquaviva's final instructions he gave
me a purse containing one hundred ounces, worth seven hundred
sequins. I had three hundred more, so that my fortune amounted to
one thousand sequins; I kept two hundred, and for the rest I took a
letter of exchange upon a Ragusan who was established in Ancona. I
left Rome in the coach with a lady going to Our Lady of Loretto, to
fulfil a vow made during a severe illness of her daughter, who
accompanied her. The young lady was ugly; my journey was a rather
tedious one.
CHAPTER XI
My Short But Rather Too Gay Visit To Ancona--Cecilia, Marina,
Bellino--the Greek Slave of the Lazzaretto--Bellino Discovers Himself
I arrived in Ancona on the 25th of February, 1744, and put up at the
best inn. Pleased with my room, I told mine host to prepare for me a
good meat dinner; but he answered that during Lent all good Catholics
eat nothing but fish.
"The Holy Father has granted me permission to eat meat."
"Let me see your permission."
"He gave it to me by word of mouth."
"Reverend sir, I am not obliged to believe you."
"You are a fool."
"I am master in my own house, and I beg you will go to some other
inn."
Such an answer, coupled to a most unexpected notice to quit, threw me
into a violent passion. I was swearing, raving, screaming, when
suddenly a grave-looking individual made his appearance in my room,
and said to me:
"Sir, you are wrong in calling for meat, when in Ancona fish is much
better; you are wrong in expecting the landlord to believe you on
your bare word; and if you have obtained the permission from the
Pope, you have been wrong in soliciting it at your age; you have been
wrong in not asking for such permission in writing; you are wrong in
calling the host a fool, because it is a compliment that no man is
likely to accept in his own house; and, finally, you are wrong in
making such an uproar."
Far from increasing my bad temper, this individual, who had entered
my room only to treat me to a sermon, made me laugh.
"I willingly plead guilty, sir," I answered, "to all the counts which
you allege against me; but it is raining, it is getting late, I am
tired and hungry, and therefore you will easily understand that I do
not feel disposed to change my quarters. Will you give me some
supper, as the landlord refuses to do so?"
"No," he replied, with great composure, "because I am a good Catholic
and fast. But I will undertake to make it all right for you with the
landlord, who will give you a good supper."
Thereupon he went downstairs, and I, comparing my hastiness to his
calm, acknowledged the man worthy of teaching me some lessons. He
soon came up again, informed me that peace was signed, and that I
would be served immediately.
"Will you not take supper with me?"
"No, but I will keep you company."
I accepted his offer, and to learn who he was, I told him my name,
giving myself the title of secretary to Cardinal Acquaviva.
"My name is Sancio Pico," he said; "I am a Castilian, and the
'proveditore' of the army of H. C. M., which is commanded by Count de
Gages under the orders of the generalissimo, the Duke of Modem."
My excellent appetite astonished him, and he enquired whether I had
dined. "No," said I; and I saw his countenance assume an air of
satisfaction.
"Are you not afraid such a supper will hurt you?" he said.
"On the contrary, I hope it will do me a great deal of good."
"Then you have deceived the Pope?"
"No, for I did not tell him that I had no appetite, but only that I
liked meat better than fish."
"If you feel disposed to hear some good music," he said a moment
after, "follow me to the next room; the prima donna of Ancona lives
there."
The words prima donna interested me at once, and I followed him. I
saw, sitting before a table, a woman already somewhat advanced in
age, with two young girls and two boys, but I looked in vain for the
actress, whom Don Sancio Pico at last presented to me in the shape of
one of the two boys, who was remarkably handsome and might have been
seventeen. I thought he was a 'castrato' who, as is the custom in
Rome, performed all the parts of a prima donna. The mother presented
to, me her other son, likewise very good-looking, but more manly than
the 'castrato', although younger. His name was Petronio, and,
keeping up the transformations of the family, he was the first female
dancer at the opera. The eldest girl, who was also introduced to me,
was named Cecilia, and studied music; she was twelve years old; the
youngest, called Marina, was only eleven, and like her brother
Petronio was consecrated to the worship of Terpsichore. Both the
girls were very pretty.
The family came from Bologna and lived upon the talent of its
members; cheerfulness and amiability replaced wealth with them.
Bellino, such was the name of the castrato, yielding to the
entreaties of Don Sancio, rose from the table, went to the
harpiscord, and sang with the voice of an angel and with delightful
grace. The Castilian listened with his eyes closed in an ecstasy of
enjoyment, but I, far from closing my eyes, gazed into Bellino's,
which seemed to dart amorous lightnings upon me. I could discover in
him some of the features of Lucrezia and the graceful manner of the
marchioness, and everything betrayed a beautiful woman, for his dress
concealed but imperfectly the most splendid bosom. The consequence
was that, in spite of his having been introduced as a man, I fancied
that the so-called Bellino was a disguised beauty, and, my
imagination taking at once the highest flight, I became thoroughly
enamoured.
We spent two very pleasant hours, and I returned to my room
accompanied by the Castilian. "I intend to leave very early to-
morrow morning," he said, "for Sinigaglia, with the Abbe Vilmarcati,
but I expect to return for supper the day after to-morrow." I wished
him a happy journey, saying that we would most 'likely meet on the
road, as I should probably leave Ancona myself on the same day, after
paying a visit to my banker.
I went to bed thinking of Bellino and of the impression he had made
upon me; I was sorry to go away without having proved to him that I
was not the dupe of his disguise. Accordingly, I was well pleased to
see him enter my room in the morning as soon as I had opened my door.
He came to offer me the services of his young brother Petronio during
my stay in Ancona, instead of my engaging a valet de place. I
willingly agreed to the proposal, and sent Petronio to get coffee for
all the family.
I asked Bellino to sit on my bed with the intention of making love to
him, and of treating him like a girl, but the two young sisters ran
into my room and disturbed my plans. Yet the trio formed before me a
very pleasing sight; they represented natural beauty and artless
cheerfulness of three different kinds; unobtrusive familiarity,
theatrical wit, pleasing playfulness, and pretty Bolognese manners
which I witnessed for the first time; all this would have sufficed to
cheer me if I had been downcast. Cecilia and Marina were two sweet
rosebuds, which, to bloom in all their beauty, required only the
inspiration of love, and they would certainly have had the preference
over Bellino if I had seen in him only the miserable outcast of
mankind, or rather the pitiful victim of sacerdotal cruelty, for, in
spite of their youth, the two amiable girls offered on their dawning
bosom the precious image of womanhood.
Petronio came with the coffee which he poured out, and I sent some to
the mother, who never left her room. Petronio was a true male harlot
by taste and by profession. The species is not scare in Italy, where
the offence is not regarded with the wild and ferocious intolerance
of England and Spain. I had given him one sequin to pay for the
coffee, and told him to keep the change, and, to chew me his
gratitude, he gave me a voluptuous kiss with half-open lips,
supposing in me a taste which I was very far from entertaining. I
disabused him, but he did not seem the least ashamed. I told him to
order dinner for six persons, but he remarked that he would order it
only for four, as he had to keep his dear mother company; she always
took her dinner in bed. Everyone to his taste, I thought, and I let
him do as he pleased.
Two minutes after he had gone, the landlord came to my room and said,
"Reverend sir, the persons you have invited here have each the
appetite of two men at least; I give you notice of it, because I must
charge accordingly." "All right," I replied, "but let us have a good
dinner."
When I was dressed, I thought I ought to pay my compliments to the
compliant mother. I went to her room, and congratulated her upon her
children. She thanked me for the present I had given to Petronio,
and began to make me the confidant of her distress. "The manager of
the theatre," she said, "is a miser who has given us only fifty Roman
crowns for the whole carnival. We have spent them for our living,
and, to return to Bologna, we shall have to walk and beg our way."
Her confidence moved my pity, so I took a gold quadruple from my
purse and offered it to her; she wept for joy and gratitude.
"I promise you another gold quadruple, madam," I said, "if you will
confide in me entirely. Confess that Bellino is a pretty woman in
disguise."
"I can assure you it is not so, although he has the appearance of a
woman."
"Not only the appearance, madam, but the tone, the manners; I am a
good judge."
"Nevertheless, he is a boy, for he has had to be examined before he
could sing on the stage here."
"And who examined him?"
"My lord bishop's chaplain."
"A chaplain?"
"Yes, and you may satisfy yourself by enquiring from him."
"The only way to clear my doubts would be to examine him myself."
"You may, if he has no objection, but truly I cannot interfere, as I
do not know what your intentions are."
"They are quite natural."
I returned to my room and sent Petronio for a bottle of Cyprus wine.
He brought the wine and seven sequins, the change for the doubloon I
had given him. I divided them between Bellino, Cecilia and Marina,
and begged the two young girls to leave me alone with their brother.
"Bellino, I am certain that your natural conformation is different
from mine; my dear, you are a girl."
"I am a man, but a castrato; I have been examined."
"Allow me to examine you likewise, and I will give you a doubloon."
"I cannot, for it is evident that you love me, and such love is
condemned by religion."
"You did not raise these objections with the bishop's chaplain."
"He was an elderly priest, and besides, he only just glanced at me."
"I will know the truth," said I, extending my hand boldly.
But he repulsed me and rose from his chair. His obstinacy vexed me,
for I had already spent fifteen or sixteen sequins to satisfy my
curiosity.
I began my dinner with a very bad humour, but the excellent appetite
of my pretty guests brought me round, and I soon thought that, after
all, cheerfulness was better than sulking, and I resolved to make up
for my disappointment with the two charming sisters, who seemed well
disposed to enjoy a frolic.
I began by distributing a few innocent kisses right and left, as I
sat between them near a good fire, eating chestnuts which we wetted
with Cyprus wine. But very soon my greedy hands touched every part
which my lips could not kiss, and Cecilia, as well as Marina,
delighted in the game. Seeing that Bellino was smiling, I kissed him
likewise, and his half-open ruffle attracting my hand, I ventured and
went in without resistance. The chisel of Praxiteles had never
carved a finer bosom!
"Oh! this is enough," I exclaimed; "I can no longer doubt that you
are a beautifully-formed woman!"
"It is," he replied, "the defect of all castrati."
"No, it is the perfection of all handsome women. Bellino, believe me,
I am enough of a good judge to distinguish between the deformed
breast of a castrato, and that of a beautiful woman; and your
alabaster bosom belongs to a young beauty of seventeen summers."
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