The Memoires of Casanova, Complete

J >> Jacques Casanova de Seingalt >> The Memoires of Casanova, Complete


I rose hastily, and just as I was leaving the room I saw the dreadful
widow, who seemed full of glee, and said,--

"I thank you, sir; I thank you with all my heart. I beg to leave you at
liberty again; I am going back to Soleure."

"Wait for a quarter of an hour, we are going to breakfast with Madame."

"I can't stop a moment, I have just wished her good day, and now I must
be gone. Farewell, and remember me."

"Farewell, madam."

She had hardly gone before M.---- asked me if the woman was beside
herself.

"One might think so, certainly," I replied, "for she has received nothing
but politeness at my hands, and I think she might have waited to go back
with you in the evening."

We went to breakfast and to discuss this abrupt leave-taking, and
afterwards we took a turn in the garden where we found Madame Dubois.
M.---- took possession of her; and as I thought his wife looking rather
downcast I asked her if she had not slept well.

"I did not go to sleep till four o'clock this morning," she replied,
"after vainly sitting up in bed waiting for you till that time. What
unforeseen accident prevented your coming?"

I could not answer her question. I was petrified. I looked at her fixedly
without replying; I could not shake off my astonishment. At last a
dreadful suspicion came into my head that I had held within my arms for
two hours the horrible monster whom I had foolishly received in my house.
I was seized with a terrible tremor, which obliged me to go and take
shelter behind the arbour and hide my emotion. I felt as though I should
swoon away. I should certainly have fallen if I had not rested my head
against a tree.

My first idea had been a fearful thought, which I hastened to repel, that
Madame, having enjoyed me, wished to deny all knowledge of the fact--a
device which is in the power of any woman who gives up her person in the
dark to adopt, as it is impossible to convict her of lying. However, I
knew the divine creature I had thought I possessed too well to believe
her capable of such base deceit. I felt that she would have been lacking
in delicacy, if she had said she had waited for me in vain by way of a
jest; as in such a case as this the least doubt is a degradation. I was
forced, then, to the conclusion that she had been supplanted by the
infernal widow. How had she managed it? How had she ascertained our
arrangements? I could not imagine, and I bewildered myself with painful
surmises. Reason only comes to the aid of the mind when the confusion
produced by painful thoughts has almost vanished. I concluded, then, that
I had spent two hours with this abominable monster; and what increased my
anguish, and made me loathe and despise myself still more, was that I
could not help confessing that I had been perfectly happy. It was an
unpardonable mistake, as the two women differed as much as white does
from black, and though the darkness forbade my seeing, and the silence my
hearing, my sense of touch should have enlightened me--after the first
set-to, at all events, but my imagination was in a state of ecstasy. I
cursed love, my nature, and above all the inconceivable weakness which
had allowed me to receive into my house the serpent that had deprived me
of an angel, and made me hate myself at the thought of having defiled
myself with her. I resolved to die, after having torn to pieces with my
own hands the monster who had made me so unhappy.

While I was strengthening myself in this resolution M.---- came up to me
and asked me kindly if I were ill; he was alarmed to see me pale and
covered with drops of sweat. "My wife," said the worthy man, "is uneasy
about you, and sent me to look after you." I told him I had to leave her
on account of a sudden dizziness, but that I began to feel better. "Let
us rejoin her." Madame Dubois brought me a flask of strong waters, saying
pleasantly that she was sure it was only the sudden departure of the
widow that had put me out.

We continued our walk, and when we were far enough from the husband, who
was with my housekeeper, I said I had been overcome by what she had said,
but that it had doubtless been spoken jestingly.

"I was not jesting at all," said she, with a sigh, "tell me what
prevented your coming."

Again I was struck dumb. I could not make up my mind to tell her the
story, and I did not know what to say to justify myself. I was silent and
confused when my housekeeper's little servant came up and gave me a
letter which the wretched widow had sent her by an express. She had
opened it, and found an enclosure addressed to me inside. I put it in my
pocket, saying I would read it at my leisure. On Madame saying in joke
that it was a love-letter, I could not laugh, and made no answer. The
servant came to tell us that dinner was served, but I could touch
nothing. My abstinence was put down to my being unwell.

I longed to read the letter, but I wished to be alone to do so, and that
was a difficult matter to contrive.

Wishing to avoid the game of piquet which formed our usual afternoon's
amusement, I took a cup of coffee, and said that I thought the fresh air
would do me good. Madame seconded me, and guessing what I wanted she
asked me to walk up and down with her in a sheltered alley in the garden.
I offered her my arm, her husband offered his to my housekeeper, and we
went out.

As soon as my mistress saw that we were free from observation, she spoke
as follows,--

"I am sure that you spent the night with that malicious woman, and I am
afraid of being compromised in consequence. Tell me everything; confide
in me without reserve; 'tis my first intrigue, and if it is to serve as a
lesson you should conceal nothing from me. I am sure you loved me once,
tell me that you have not become my enemy."

"Good heavens! what are you saying? I your enemy!"

"Then tell me all, and before you read that wretched creature's letter. I
adjure you in the name of love to hide nothing from me."

"Well, divine creature, I will do as you bid me. I came to your apartment
at one o'clock, and as soon as I was in the second ante-chamber, I was
taken by the arm, and a hand was placed upon my lips to impose silence; I
thought I held you in my arms, and I laid you gently on the sofa. You
must remember that I felt absolutely certain it was you; indeed, I can
scarcely doubt it even now. I then passed with you, without a word being
spoken, two of the most delicious hours I have ever experienced. Cursed
hours! of which the remembrance will torment me for the remainder of my
days. I left you at a quarter past three. The rest is known to you."

"Who can have told the monster that you were going to visit me at that
hour?"

"I can't make out, and that perplexes me."

"You must confess that I am the most to be pitied of us three, and
perhaps, alas! the only one who may have a just title to the name
'wretched.'"

"If you love me, in the name of Heaven do not say that; I have resolved
to stab her, and to kill myself after having inflicted on her that
punishment she so well deserves."

"Have you considered that the publicity of such an action would render me
the most unfortunate of women? Let us be more moderate, sweetheart; you
are not to blame for what has happened, and if possible I love you all
the more. Give me the letter she has written to you. I will go away from
you to read it, and you can read it afterwards, as if we were seen
reading it together we should have to explain matters."

"Here it is."

I then rejoined her husband, whom my housekeeper was sending into fits of
laughter. The conversation I had just had had calmed me a little, and the
trustful way in which she had asked for the letter had done me good. I
was in a fever to know the contents, and yet I dreaded to read it, as it
could only increase my rage and I was afraid of the results.

Madame rejoined us, and after we had separated again she gave me the
letter, telling me to keep it till I was alone. She asked me to give her
my word of honour to do nothing without consulting her, and to
communicate all my designs to her by means of her nurse.

"We need not fear the harpy saying anything about it," she remarked, "as
she would first have to proclaim her own prostitution, and as for us,
concealment is the best plan. And I would have you note that the horrible
creature gives you a piece of advice you would do well to follow."

What completely tore my heart asunder during this interview was to see
great tears--tears of love and grief--falling from her beautiful eyes;
though to moderate my anguish she forced a smile. I knew too well the
importance she attached to her fair fame not to guess that she was
tormented with the idea that the terrible widow knew of the understanding
between us, and the thought added fresh poignancy to my sorrow.

This amiable pair left me at seven in the evening, and I thanked the
husband in such a manner that he could not doubt my sincerity, and, in
truth, I said no more than I felt. There is no reason why the love one
feels for a woman should hinder one from being the true friend of her
husband--if she have a husband. The contrary view is a hateful prejudice,
repugnant both to nature and to philosophy. After I had embraced him I
was about to kiss the hand of his charming wife, but he begged me to
embrace her too, which I did respectfully but feelingly.

I was impatient to read the terrible letter, and as soon as they were
gone I shut myself up in my room to prevent any interruptions. The
epistle was as follows:

"I leave your house, sir, well enough pleased, not that I have spent a
couple of hours with you, for you are no better than any other man, but
that I have revenged myself on the many open marks of contempt you have
given me; for your private scorn I care little, and I willingly forgive
you. I have avenged myself by unmasking your designs and the hypocrisy of
your pretty prude, who will no longer be able to treat me with that
irritating air of superiority which she, affecting a virtue which she
does not possess, has displayed towards me. I have avenged myself in the
fact that she must have been waiting for you all the night, and I would
have given worlds to have heard the amusing conversation you must have
had when she found out that I had taken for vengeance's sake, and not for
love, the enjoyment which was meant for her. I have avenged myself
because you can no longer pretend to think her a marvel of beauty, as
having mistaken me for her, the difference between us must needs be
slight; but I have done you a service, too, as the thought of what has
happened should cure you of your passion. You will no longer adore her
before all other women who are just as good as she. Thus I have disabused
you, and you ought to feel grateful to me; but I dispense you from all
gratitude, and do not care if you choose to hate me, provided your hatred
leaves me in peace; but if I find your conduct objectionable in the
future, I warn you that I will tell all, since I do not care for my own
fame as I am a widow and mistress of my own actions. I need no man's
favour, and care not what men may say of me. Your mistress, on the other
hand, is in quite a different position.

"And here I will give you a piece of advice, which should convince you of
my generosity. For the last ten years I have been troubled with a little
ailment which has resisted all attempts at treatment. You exerted
yourself to such an extent to prove how well you loved me that you must
have caught the complaint. I advise you, then, to put yourself under
treatment at once to weaken the force of the virus; but above all do not
communicate it to your mistress, who might chance to hand it on to her
husband and possibly to others, which would make a wretched woman of her,
to my grief and sorrow, since she has never done me any harm. I felt
certain that you two would deceive the worthy husband, and I wished to
have proof; thus I made you take me in, and the position of the apartment
you gave them was enough to remove all doubts; still I wanted to have
proof positive. I had no need of any help to arrive at my ends, and I
found it a pleasant joke to keep you in the dark. After passing two
nights on the sofa all for nothing, I resolved on passing the third night
there, and my perseverance was crowned with success. No one saw me, and
my maid even is ignorant of my nocturnal wanderings, though in any case
she is accustomed to observe silence. You are, then, at perfect liberty
to bury the story in oblivion, and I advise you to do so.

"If you want a doctor, tell him to keep his counsel, for people at
Soleure know of my little indisposition, and they might say you caught it
from me, and this would do us both harm."

Her impudence struck me so gigantic in its dimensions that I almost
laughed. I was perfectly aware that after the way I had treated her she
must hate me, but I should not have thought she would have carried her
perverse hatred so far. She had communicated to me an infectious disease,
though I did not so far feel any symptoms; however, they would no doubt
appear, and I sadly thought I should have to go away to be cured, to
avoid the gossip of malicious wits. I gave myself up to reflection, and
after two hours' thought I wisely resolved to hold my tongue, but to be
revenged when the opportunity presented itself.

I had eaten nothing at dinner, and needed a good supper to make me sleep.
I sat down to table with my housekeeper, but, like a man ashamed of
himself, I dared not look her in the face.




CHAPTER XVI

Continuation of the Preceding Chapter--I Leave Soleure

When the servants had gone away and left us alone, it would have looked
strange if we had remained as dumb as two posts; but in my state of mind
I did not feel myself capable of breaking the silence. My dear Dubois,
who began to love me because I made her happy, felt my melancholy react
on herself, and tried to make me talk.

"Your sadness," said she, "is not like you; it frightens me. You may
console yourself by telling me of your troubles, but do not imagine that
my curiosity springs from any unworthy motive, I only want to be of
service to you. You may rely on my being perfectly discreet; and to
encourage you to speak freely, and to give you that trust in me which I
think I deserve, I will tell you what I know and what I have learnt about
yourself. My knowledge has not been obtained by any unworthy stratagems,
or by a curiosity in affairs which do not concern me."

"I am pleased with what you say, my dear housekeeper. I see you are my
friend, and I am grateful to you. Tell me all you know about the matter
which is now troubling me, and conceal nothing."

"Very good. You are the lover and the beloved of Madame----. The widow
whom you have treated badly has played you some trick which has involved
you with your mistress, and then the wretched woman has 477 left your
house with the most unpardonable rudeness this tortures you. You fear
some disastrous consequences from which you cannot escape, your heart and
mind are at war, and there is a struggle in your breast between passion
and sentiment. Perhaps I am wrong, but yesterday you seemed to me happy
and to-day miserable. I pity you, because you have inspired me with the
tenderest feelings of friendship. I did my best to-day to converse with
the husband that you might be free to talk to the wife, who seems to me
well worthy of your love."

"All that you have said is true. Your friendship is dear to me, and I
have a high opinion of your intellectual powers. The widow is a monster
who has made me wretched in return for my contempt, and I cannot revenge
myself on her. Honour will not allow me to tell you any more, and indeed
it would be impossible for you or any one else to alleviate the grief
that overwhelms me. It may possibly be my death, but in the mean time, my
dear Dubois, I entreat you to continue your friendship towards me, and to
treat me with entire candour. I shall always attend to what you say, and
thus you will be of the greatest service to me. I shall not be
ungrateful."

I spent a weary night as I had expected, for anger, the mother of
vengeance, always made me sleepless, while sudden happiness had sometimes
the same effect.

I rang for Le Duc early in the morning, but, instead of him, Madame
Dubois's ugly little attendant came, and told me that my man was ill, and
that the housekeeper would bring me my chocolate. She came in directly
after, and I had no sooner swallowed the chocolate than I was seized with
a violent attack of sickness, the effect of anger, which at its height
may kill the man who cannot satisfy it. My concentrated rage called for
vengeance on the dreadful widow, the chocolate came on the top of the
anger, and if it had not been rejected I should have been killed; as it
was I was quite exhausted. Looking at my housekeeper I saw she was in
tears, and asked her why she wept.

"Good heavens! Do you think I have a heart of stone?"

"Calm yourself; I see you pity me. Leave me, and I hope I shall be able
to get some sleep."

I went to sleep soon after, and I did not wake till I had slept for seven
hours. I felt restored to life. I rang the bell, my housekeeper came in,
and told me the surgeon of the place had called. She looked very
melancholy, but on seeing my more cheerful aspect I saw gladness
reappearing on her pretty face.

"We will dine together, dearest," said I, "but tell the surgeon to come
in. I want to know what he has to say to me."

The worthy man entered, and after looking carefully round the room to see
that we were alone, he came up to me, and whispered in my ear that Le Duc
had a malady of a shameful character.

I burst out laughing, as I had been expecting some terrible news.

"My dear doctor," said I, "do all you can to cure him, and I will pay you
handsomely, but next time don't look so doleful when you have anything to
tell me. How old are you?"

"Nearly eighty."

"May God help you!"

I was all the more ready to sympathize with my poor Spaniard, as I
expected to find myself in a like case.

What a fellow-feeling there is between the unfortunate! The poor man will
seek in vain for true compassion at the rich man's doors; what he
receives is a sacrifice to ostentation and not true benevolence; and the
man in sorrow should not look for pity from one to whom sorrow is
unknown, if there be such a person on the earth.

My housekeeper came in to dress me, and asked me what had been the
doctor's business.

"He must have said something amusing to make you laugh."

"Yes, and I should like to tell you what it was; but before I do so I
must ask you if you know what the venereal disease is?"

"Yes, I do; Lady Montagu's footman died of it while I was with her."

"Very good, but you should pretend not to know what it is, and imitate
other ladies who assume an ignorance which well becomes them. Poor Le Duc
has got this disease."

"Poor fellow, I am sorry for him! Were you laughing at that?"

"No; it was the air of mystery assumed by the old doctor which amused
me."

"I too have a confidence to make, and when you have heard it you must
either forgive me or send me away directly."

"Here is another bother. What the devil can you have done? Quick! tell
me."

"Sir, I have robbed you!"

"What robbed me? When? How? Can you return me what you have taken? I
should not have thought you capable of such a thing. I never forgive a
robber or a liar."

"You are too hasty, sir. I am sure you will forgive me, as I robbed you
only half an hour ago, and I am now going to return to you the theft."

"You are a singular woman, my dear. Come, I will vouchsafe full
forgiveness, but restore immediately what you have taken."

"This is what I stole."

"What! that monster's letter? Did you read it?"

"Yes, of course, for otherwise I should not have committed a theft,
should I?"

"You have robbed me my secret, then, and that is a thing you cannot give
me back. You have done very wrong."

"I confess I have. My theft is all the greater in that I cannot make
restoration. Nevertheless, I promise never to speak a word of it all my
life, and that ought to gain me my pardon. Give it me quickly."

"You are a little witch. I forgive you, and here is the pledge of my
mercy." So saying I fastened my lips on hers.

"I don't doubt the validity of your pardon; you have signed with a double
and a triple seal."

"Yes; but for the future do not read, or so much as touch, any of my
papers, as I am the depositary of secrets of which I am not free to
dispose."

"Very good; but what shall I do when I find papers on the ground, as that
letter was?"

"You must pick them up, but not read them."

"I promise to do so."

"Very well, my dear; but you must forget the horrors you have read."

"Listen to me. Allow me to remember what I have read; perhaps you may be
the gainer. Let us talk over this affair, which has made my hair stand on
end. This monster of immodesty has given you two mortal blows--one in the
body and one in the soul; but that is not the worst, as she thinks that
Madame's honour is in her keeping. This, in my thinking, is the worst of
all; for, in spite of the affront, your mutual love might continue, and
the disease which the infamous creature has communicated to you would
pass off; but if the malicious woman carries out her threats, the honour
of your charming mistress is gone beyond return. Do not try to make me
forget the matter, then, but let us talk it over and see what can be
done."

I thought I was dreaming when I heard a young woman in her position
reasoning with more acuteness than Minerva displays in her colloquies
with Telemachus. She had captured not only my esteem but my respect.

"Yes, my dear," I answered, "let us think over some plan for delivering a
woman who deserves the respect of all good men from this imminent danger;
and the very thought that we have some chance of success makes me
indebted to you. Let us think of it and talk of it from noon to night.
Think kindly of Madame----, pardon her first slip, protect her honour,
and have pity on my distress. From henceforth call me no more your master
but your friend. I will be your friend till death; I swear it to you.
What you say is full of wisdom; my heart is yours. Embrace me."

"No, no, that is not necessary; we are young people, and we might perhaps
allow ourselves to go astray. I only wish for your friendship; but I do
not want you to give it to me for nothing. I wish to deserve it by giving
you solid proofs of my friendship for you. In the meanwhile I will tell
them to serve dinner, and I hope that after you have eaten something you
will be quite well."

I was astonished at her sagacity. It might all be calculated artifice,
and her aim might be to seduce me, but I did not trouble myself about
that. I found myself almost in love with her, and like to be the dupe of
her principles, which would have made themselves felt, even if she had
openly shared my love. I decided that I would add no fuel to my flames,
and felt certain that they would go out of their own accord. By leaving
my love thus desolate it would die of exhaustion. I argued like a fool. I
forgot that it is not possible to stop at friendship with a pretty woman
whom one sees constantly, and especially when one suspects her of being
in love herself. At its height friendship becomes love, and the
palliative one is forced to apply to soothe it for a moment only
increases its intensity. Such was the experience of Anacreon with
Smerdis, and Cleobulus with Badyllus. A Platonist who pretends that one
is able to live with a young woman of whom one is fond, without becoming
more than her friend, is a visionary who knows not what he says. My
housekeeper was too young, too pretty, and above all too pleasant, she
had too keen a wit, for me not to be captivated by all these qualities
conjoined; I was bound to become her lover.

We dined quietly together without saying anything about the affair we had
at heart, for nothing is more imprudent or more dangerous than to speak
in the presence of servants, who out of maliciousness or ignorance put
the worst construction on what they hear; add or diminish, and think
themselves privileged to divulge their master's secrets, especially as
they know them without having been entrusted with them.

As soon as we were alone, my dear Dubois asked me if I had sufficient
proof of Le Duc's fidelity.

"Well, my dear, he is a rascal and a profligate, full of impudence,
sharp-witted, ignorant, a fearful liar, and nobody but myself has any
power over him. However, he has one good quality, and that is blind
obedience to my orders. He defies the stick, and he would defy the
gallows if it were far enough off. When I have to ford a river on my
travels, he strips off his clothes without my telling him, and jumps in
to see if I can across in safety."

"That will do; he is just what we want under the circumstances. I will
begin by assuring you, my dear friend, as you will have me style you
thus, that Madame's honour is perfectly safe. Follow my advice, and if
the detestable widow does not take care she will be the only person put
to shame. But we want Le Duc; without him we can do nothing. Above all we
must find out how he contracted his disease, as several circumstances
might throw obstacles in the way of my design. Go to him at once and find
out all particulars, and if he has told any of the servants what is the
matter with him. When you have heard what he has to say, warn him to keep
the matter quiet."