Adventures In The South: Back Again to Paris

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> Adventures In The South: Back Again to Paris


"Allow me to offer you mine," said I. It was a white handkerchief, and
scented with attar of roses; this latter circumstance gave her an excuse
for accepting it, but after smelling it she wanted to return it to me.

"You have not used it," said I! "do so."

She obeyed, and then returned it to me with a bow by way of thanks.

"You must not give it me back, fair Agatha, till you have had it washed."

She smiled, and gave it to her mother, glancing at me in a grateful
manner, which I considered of good omen.

"May I have the pleasure of calling on you?" said I. "I cannot receive
you, sir, except in the presence of my landlady."

"This cursed restriction is general in Turin, then?"

"Yes, the superintendent uses everybody in the same way."

"Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again here?"

In the evening I had one of the best suppers I ever had in my life, if I
except those I enjoyed during my stay at Turin. My cook was worthy of a
place in the kitchen of Lucullus; but without detracting from his skill I
must do justice to the products of the country. Everything is delicious;
game, fish, birds, meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, and truffles--all are
worthy of the table of the greatest gourmets, and the wines of the
country yield to none. What a pity that strangers do not enjoy liberty at
Turin! It is true that better society, and more politeness, such as are
found in several French and Italian towns, are to be wished for.

The beauty of the women of Turin is no doubt due to the excellence of the
air and diet.

I had not much trouble in extracting a promise from Madame Mazzoli and
the two counts to sup with me every night, but the Chevalier de Raiberti
would only promise to come whenever he could.

At the Carignan Theatre, where opera-bouffe was being played, I saw
Redegonde, with whom I had failed at Florence. She saw me in the pit and
gave me a smile, so I wrote to her, offering my services if the mother
had changed her way of thinking. She answered that her mother was always
the same, but that if I would ask the Corticelli she could come and sup
with me, though the mother would doubtless have to be of the party. I
gave her no answer, as the terms she named were by no means to my taste.

I had a letter from Madame du Rumain, enclosing one from M. de Choiseul
to M. de Chauvelin, the French ambassador at Turin. It will be remembered
that I had known this worthy nobleman at Soleure, and had been treated
with great politeness by him, but I wished to have a more perfect title
to his acquaintance; hence I asked Madame du Rumain to give me a letter.

M. de Chauvelin received me with the greatest cordiality; and reproaching
me for having thought a letter of introduction necessary, introduced me
to his charming wife, who was no less kind than her husband. Three or
four days later he asked me to dine with him, and I met at his table M.
Imberti, the Venetian ambassador, who said he was very sorry not to be
able to present me at Court. On hearing the reason M. de Chauvelin
offered to present me himself, but I thought it best to decline with
thanks. No doubt it would have been a great honour, but the result would
be that I should be more spied on than even in this town of spies, where
the most indifferent actions do not pass unnoticed. My pleasures would
have been interfered with.

Count Borromeo continued to honour me by coming every night to sup with
me, preserving his dignity the while, for as he accompanied Madame
Mazzoli it was not to be supposed that he came because he was in need of
a meal. Count A---- B---- came more frankly, and I was pleased with him. He
told me one day that the way I put up with his visits made him extremely
grateful to Providence, for his wife could not send him any money, and he
could not afford to pay for his dinner at the inn, so that if it were not
for my kindness he would often be obliged to go hungry to bed. He shewed
me his wife's letters; he had evidently a high opinion of her. "I hope,"
he would say, "that you will come and stay with us at Milan, and that she
will please you."

He had been in the service of Spain, and by what he said I judged his
wife to be a pleasing brunette of twenty-five or twenty-six. The count
had told her how I had lent him money several times, and of my goodness
to him, and she replied, begging him to express her gratitude to me, and
to make me promise to stay with them at Milan. She wrote wittily, and her
letters interested me to such an extent that I gave a formal promise to
journey to Milan, if it were only for the sake of seeing her.

I confess that in doing so I was overcome by my feelings of curiosity. I
knew they were poor, and I should not have given a promise which would
either bring them into difficulties or expose me to paying too dearly for
my lodging. However, by way of excuse, I can only say that curiosity is
near akin to love. I fancied the countess sensible like an Englishwoman,
passionate like a Spaniard, caressing like a Frenchwoman, and as I had a
good enough opinion of my own merit, I did not doubt for a moment that
she would respond to my affection. With these pleasant delusions in my
head, I counted on exciting the jealousy of all the ladies and gentlemen
of Milan. I had plenty of money, and I longed for an opportunity of
spending it.

Nevertheless, I went every day to rehearsal at Dupre's, and I soon got
madly in love with Agatha. Madame Dupre won over by several presents I
made her, received my confidences with kindness, and by asking Agatha and
her mother to dinner procured me the pleasure of a more private meeting
with my charmer. I profited by the opportunity to make known my feelings,
and I obtained some slight favours, but so slight were they that my flame
only grew the fiercer.

Agatha kept on telling me that everybody knew that the Corticelli was my
mistress, and that for all the gold in the world she would not have it
said that she was my last shift, as I could not see the Corticelli in
private. I swore to her that I did not love the Corticelli, and that I
only kept her to prevent M. Raiberti being compromised; but all this was
of no avail, she had formed her plans, and nothing would content her but
a formal rupture which would give all Turin to understand that I loved
her and her alone. On these conditions she promised me her heart, and
everything which follows in such cases.

I loved her too well not to endeavour to satisfy her, since my
satisfaction depended on hers. With this idea I got Dupre to give a ball
at my expense in some house outside the town, and to invite all the
dancers, male and female, who were engaged for the carnival at Turin.
Every gentleman had the right to bring a lady to have supper and look on,
as only the professional dancers were allowed to dance.

I told Dupre that I would look after the refreshment department, and that
he might tell everybody that no expense was to be spared. I also provided
carriages and sedan-chairs for the ladies, but nobody was to know that I
was furnishing the money. Dupre saw that there was profit in store for
him, and went about it at once. He found a suitable house, asked the lady
dancers, and distributed about fifty tickets.

Agatha and her mother were the only persons who knew that the project was
mine, and that I was responsible to a great extent for the expenses; but
these facts were generally known the day after the ball.

Agatha had no dress that was good enough, so I charged Madame Dupre to
provide one at my expense, and I was well served. It is well known that
when this sort of people dip their fingers into other's purses they are
not sparing, but that was just what I wanted. Agatha promised to dance
all the quadrilles with me, and to return to Turin with Madame Dupre.

On the day fixed for the ball I stayed to dinner at the Dupre's to be
present at Agatha's toilette. Her dress was a rich and newly-made Lyons
silk, and the trimming was exquisite Alencon point lace, of which the
girl did not know the value. Madame R----, who had arranged the dress,
and Madame Dupre, had received instructions to say nothing about it to
her.

When Agatha was ready to start, I told her that the ear-rings she was
wearing were not good enough for her dress.

"That's true," said Madame Dupre, "and it's a great pity."

"Unfortunately," said the mother, "my poor girl hasn't got another pair."

"I have some pretty imitation pendants, which I could lend you," said I;
"they are really very brilliant."

I had taken care to put the ear-rings which Madame d'Urfe had intended
for the Countess Lascaris in my pocket. I drew them out, and they were
greatly admired.

"One would swear they were real diamonds," said Madame Dupre.

I put them in Agatha's ears. She admired them very much, and said that
all the other girls would be jealous, as they would certainly take them
for real stones.

I went home and made an elaborate toilette, and on arriving at the ball I
found Agatha dancing with Lord Percy, a young fool, who was the son of
the Duke of Northumberland, and an extravagant spendthrift.

I noticed several handsome ladies from Turin, who, being merely
onlookers, might be thinking that the ball was given for their amusement,
like the fly on the chariot wheel. All the ambassadors were present, and
amongst others M. de Chauvelin, who told me that to make everything
complete my pretty housekeeper at Soleure was wanting.

The Marquis and Marchioness de Prie were there also. The marquis did not
care to dance, so was playing a little game of quinze with a rude
gamester, who would not let the marquis's mistress look over his cards.
She saw me, but pretended not to recognize me; the trick I had played her
at Aix being probably enough to last her for some time.

The minuets came to an end, and Dupre announced the quadrilles, and I was
glad to see the Chevalier Ville-Follet dancing with the Corticelli. My
partner was Agatha, who had great difficulty in getting rid of Lord
Percy, though she told him that she was fully engaged.

Minuets and quadrilles followed each other in succession, and
refreshments began to make their appearance. I was delighted to see that
the refreshment counter was furnished with the utmost liberality. The
Piedmontese, who are great at calculations, estimated that Dupre must
lose by it, the firing of champagne corks was continuous.

Feeling tired I asked Agatha to sit down, and I was telling her how I
loved her when Madame de Chauvelin and another lady interrupted us. I
rose to give them place, and Agatha imitated my example; but Madame de
Chauvelin made her sit down beside her, and praised her dress, and above
all the lace trimming. The other lady said how pretty her ear-rings were,
and what a pity it was that those imitation stones would lose their
brilliance in time. Madame de Chauvelin, who knew something about
precious stones, said that they would never lose their brilliance, as
they were diamonds of the first water.

"It is not so?" she added, to Agatha, who in the candour of her heart
confessed that they were imitation, and that I had lent them to her.

At this Madame de Chauvelin burst out laughing, and said,--

"M. de Seingalt has deceived you, my dear child. A gentleman of his caste
does not lend imitation jewellery to such a pretty girl as you are. Your
ear-rings are set with magnificent diamonds."

She blushed, for my silence confirmed the lady's assertion, and she felt
that the fact of my having lent her such stones was a palpable proof of
the great esteem in which I held her.

Madame de Chauvelin asked me to dance a minuet with Agatha, and my
partner executed the dance with wonderful grace. When it was over Madame
de Chauvelin thanked me, and told me that she should always remember our
dancing together at Soleure, and that she hoped I would dance again with
her at her own house. A profound bow shewed her how flattered I felt by
the compliment.

The ball did not come to an end till four o'clock in the morning, and I
did not leave it till I saw Agatha going away in the company with Madame
Dupre.

I was still in bed the next morning, when my man told me a pretty woman
wanted to speak to me. I had her in and was delighted to find it was
Agatha's mother. I made her sit down beside me, and gave her a cup of
chocolate. As soon as we were alone she drew my ear-rings from her
pocket, and said, with a smile, that she had just been shewing them to a
jeweller, who had offered her a thousand sequins for them.

"The man's mad," said I, "you ought to have let him have them; they are
not worth four sequins."

So saying, I drew her to my arms and gave her a kiss. Feeling that she
had shared in the kiss, and that she seemed to like it, I went farther,
and at last we spent a couple of hours in shewing what a high opinion we
had of each other.

Afterwards we both looked rather astonished, and it was the beautiful
mother who first broke the silence.

"Am I to tell my girl," said she, with a smile, "of the way in which you
proved to me that you love her?"

"I leave that to your discretion, my dear," said I. "I have certainly
proved that I love you, but it does not follow that I do not adore your
daughter. In fact, I burn for her; and yet, if we are not careful to
avoid being alone together, what has just happened between us will often
happen again."

"It is hard to resist you, and it is possible that I may have occasion to
speak to you again in private."

"You may be sure you will always be welcome, and all I ask of you is not
to put any obstacles in the way of my suit with Agatha."

"I have also a favour to ask."

"If it is within my power, you may be sure I will grant it."

"Very good! Then tell me if these ear-rings are real, and what was your
intention in putting them in my daughter's ears?"

"The diamonds are perfectly genuine, and my intention was that Agatha
should keep them as a proof of my affection."

She heaved a sigh, and then told me that I might ask them to supper, with
Dupre and his wife, whenever I pleased. I thanked her, gave her ten
sequins, and sent her away happy.

On reflection I decided that I had never seen a more sensible woman than
Agatha's mother. It would have been impossible to announce the success of
my suit in a more delicate or more perspicuous manner.

My readers will no doubt guess that I seized the opportunity and brought
this interesting affair to a conclusion. The same evening I asked Dupre
and his wife, Agatha and her mother, to sup with me the next day, in
addition to my usual company. But as I was leaving Dupre's I had an
adventure.

My man, who was a great rascal, but who behaved well on this occasion,
ran up to me panting for breath, and said triumphantly,

"Sir, I have been looking for you to warn you that I have just seen the
Chevalier de Ville-Follet slip into Madame Pacienza's house, and I
suspect he is making an amorous call on the Corticelli."

I immediately walked to the abode of the worthy spy in high spirits, and
hoping that my servant's guess had been correct. I walked in and found
the landlady and the mother sitting together. Without noticing them, I
was making my way towards the Corticelli's room when the two old ladies
arrested my course, telling me that the signora was not well and wanted
rest. I pushed them aside, and entered the room so swiftly and suddenly
that I found the gentleman in a state of nature while the girl remained
stretched on the bed as if petrified by my sudden apparition.

"Sir," said I, "I hope you will pardon me for coming in without
knocking."

"Wait a moment, wait a moment."

Far from waiting I went away in high glee, and told the story to the
Chevalier Raiberti, who enjoyed it as well as I did. I asked him to warn
the Pacienza woman that from that day I would pay nothing for Corticelli,
who had ceased to belong to me. He approved, and said,--

"I suppose you will not be going to complain to the Count d'Aglie?"

"It is only fools who complain, above all in circumstances like these."

This scandalous story would have been consigned to forgetfulness, if it
had not been for the Chevalier de Ville-Follet's indiscretion. He felt
angry at being interrupted in the middle of the business, and remembering
he had seen my man just before fixed on him as the informer. Meeting him
in the street the chevalier reproached him for spying, whereon the
impudent rascal replied that he was only answerable to his master, and
that it was his duty to serve me in all things. On this the chevalier
caned him, and the man went to complain to the superintendent, who
summoned Ville-Follet to appear before him and explain his conduct.
Having nothing to fear, he told the whole story.

The Chevalier de Raiberti, too, was very ill received when he went to
tell Madame Pacienza that neither he nor I were going to pay her anything
more in future; but he would listen to no defence. The chevalier came to
sup with me, and he informed me that on leaving the house he had met a
police sergeant, whom he concluded had come to cite the landlady to
appear before the Count d'Aglie.

The next day, just as I was going to M. de Chauvelin's ball, I received
to my great surprise a note from the superintendent begging me to call on
him as he had something to communicate to me. I immediately ordered my
chairmen to take me to his residence.

M. de Aglie received me in private with great politeness, and after
giving me a chair he began a long and pathetic discourse, the gist of
which was that it was my duty to forgive this little slip of my
mistress's.

"That's exactly what I am going to do," said I; "and for the rest of my
days I never wish to see the Corticelli again, or to make or mar in her
affairs, and for all this I am greatly obliged to the Chevalier de
Ville-Follet."

"I see you are angry. Come, come! you must not abandon the girl for that.
I will have the woman Pacienza punished in such a way as to satisfy you,
and I will place the girl in a respectable family where you can go and
see her in perfect liberty."

"I am greatly obliged to you for your kindness, indeed I am grateful; but
I despise the Pacienza too heartily to wish for her punishment, and as to
the Corticelli and her mother, they are two female swindlers, who have
given me too much trouble already. I am well quit of them."

"You must confess, however, that you had no right to make a forcible
entry into a room in a house which does not belong to you."

"I had not the right, I confess, but if I had not taken it I could never
have had a certain proof of the perfidy of my mistress; and I should have
been obliged to continue supporting her, though she entertained other
lovers."

"The Corticelli pretends that you are her debtor, and not vice versa. She
says that the diamonds you have given another girl belong of right to
her, and that Madame d'Urfe, whom I have the honour to know, presented
her with them."

"She is a liar! And as you know Madame d'Urfe, kindly write to her (she
is at Lyons); and if the marchioness replies that I owe the wretched girl
anything, be sure that I will discharge the debt. I have a hundred
thousand francs in good banks of this town, and the money will be a
sufficient surety for the ear-rings I have disposed of."

"I am sorry that things have happened so."

"And I am very glad, as I have ridden myself of a burden that was hard to
bear."

Thereupon we bowed politely to one another, and I left the office.

At the French ambassador's ball I heard so much talk of my adventure that
at last I refused to reply to any more questions on the subject. The
general opinion was that the whole affair was a trifle of which I could
not honourably take any notice; but I thought myself the best judge of my
own honour, and was determined to take no notice of the opinions of
others. The Chevalier de Ville-Follet came up to me and said that if I
abandoned the Corticelli for such a trifle, he should feel obliged to
give me satisfaction. I shook his hand, saying,--

"My dear chevalier, it will be enough if you do not demand satisfaction
of me."

He understood how the land lay, and said no more about it; but not so his
sister, the Marchioness de Prie, who made a vigorous attack on me after
we had danced together. She was handsome, and might have been victorious
if she had liked, but luckily she did not think of exerting her power,
and so gained nothing.

Three days after, Madame de St. Giles, a great power in Turin, and a kind
of protecting deity to all actresses, summoned me to her presence by a
liveried footman. Guessing what she wanted, I called on her
unceremoniously in a morning coat. She received me politely, and began to
talk of the Corticelli affair with great affability; but I did not like
her, and replied dryly that I had had no hesitation in abandoning the
girl to the protection of the gallant gentleman with whom I had surprised
her in 'flagrante delicto'. She told me I should be sorry for it, and
that she would publish a little story which she had already read and
which did not do me much credit. I replied that I never changed my mind,
and that threats were of no avail with me. With that parting shot I left
her.

I did not attach much importance to the town gossip, but a week after I
received a manuscript containing an account--accurate in most
respects--of my relations with the Corticelli and Madame d'Urfe, but so
ill written and badly expressed that nobody could read it without
weariness. It did not make the slightest impression on me, and I stayed a
fortnight longer in Turin without its causing me the slightest annoyance.
I saw the Corticelli again in Paris six months after, and will speak of
our meeting in due time.

The day after M. de Chauvelin's ball I asked Agatha, her mother, the
Dupres, and my usual company to supper. It was the mother's business to
so arrange matters that the ear-rings should become Agatha's lawful
property, so I left everything to her. I knew she would manage to
introduce the subject, and while we were at supper she said that the
common report of Turin was that I had given her daughter a pair of
diamond ear-rings worth five hundred Louis, which the Corticelli claimed
as hers by right.

"I do not know," she added, "if they are real diamonds, or if they belong
to the Corticelli, but I do know that my girl has received no such
present from the gentleman."

"Well, well," said I, "we will have no more surmises in the matter;" and
going up to Agatha I put the earrings on her, saying,--

"Dearest Agatha, I make you a present of them before this company, and my
giving them to you now is a proof that hitherto they have belonged to
me."

Everybody applauded, and I read in the girl's eyes that I should have no
cause to regret my generosity.

We then fell to speaking of the affair of Ville-Follet and the
Corticelli, and of the efforts that had been made to compel me to retain
her. The Chevalier Raiberti said that in my place he would have offered
Madame de St. Giles or the superintendent to continue paying for her
board, but merely as an act of charity, and that I could have deposited
money with either of them.

"I should be very glad to do so," said I; and the next day the worthy
chevalier made the necessary arrangements with Madame de St. Giles, and I
furnished the necessary moneys.

In spite of this charitable action, the wretched manuscript came out,
but, as I have said, without doing me any harm. The superintendent made
the Corticelli live in the same house with Redegonde, and Madame Pacienza
was left in peace.

After supper, with the exception of the Chevalier Raiberti, we all
masked, and went to the ball at the opera-house. I soon seized the
opportunity of escaping with Agatha, and she granted me all that love can
desire. All constraint was banished; she was my titular mistress, and we
were proud of belonging the one to the other, for we loved each other.
The suppers I had given at my house had set me perfectly at liberty, and
the superintendent could do nothing to thwart our love, though he was
informed of it, so well are the spies of Turin organized.

Divine Providence made use of me as its instrument in making Agatha's
fortune. It may be said that Providence might have chosen a more moral
method, but are we to presume to limit the paths of Providence to the
narrow circle of our prejudices and conventions? It has its own ways,
which often appear dark to us because of our ignorance. At all events, if
I am able to continue these Memoirs for six or seven years more, the
reader will see that Agatha shewed herself grateful. But to return to our
subject.

The happiness we enjoyed by day and night was so great, Agatha was so
affectionate and I so amorous, that we should certainly have remained
united for some time if it had not been for the event I am about to
relate. It made me leave Turin much sooner than I had intended, for I had
not purposed to visit the wonderful Spanish countess at Milan till Lent.
The husband of the Spanish lady had finished his business and left Turin,
thanking me with tears in his eyes; and if it had not been for me he
would not have been able to quit the town, for I paid divers small debts
he had incurred, and gave him the wherewithal for his journey. Often is
vice thus found allied to virtue or masking in virtue's guise; but what
matter? I allowed myself to be taken in, and did not wish to be
disabused. I do not seek to conceal my faults. I have always led a
profligate life, and have not always been very delicate in the choice of
means to gratify my passions, but even amidst my vices I was always a
passionate lover of virtue. Benevolence, especially, has always had a
great charm for me, and I have never failed to exercise it unless when
restrained by the desire of vengeance--a vice which has always had a
controlling influence on my actions.