The Memoires of Casanova, Complete

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


"Can't I do it?"

"Yes, but I am afraid that would be an abuse of your kindness."

"I guess why; but as I am short-sighted, how shall I see the blisters?"

"If you want to do it for me, I will place myself so that it will be
easier for you. Stay, put the candle on this table."

"There you are, but don't let Costa put it on again to-morrow, or he will
guess that I or my sister did it to-night."

"You will do me the same service, then, to-morrow?"

"I or my sister, for she will get up early."

"Your sister! No, my dear; she would be afraid of giving me too much
pleasure by touching me so near."

"And I am only afraid of hurting you. Is that right? Good heavens! what a
state your skin is in!"

"You have not finished yet."

"I am so short-sighted; turn round."

"With pleasure. Here I am."

The little wanton could not resist laughing at what she saw, doubtless,
for the first time. She was obliged to touch it to continue rubbing the
ointment in, and I saw that she liked it, as she touched it when she had
no need, and not being able to stand it any longer I took hold of her
hand and made her stop her work in favour of a pleasanter employment.

When she had finished I burst out laughing to hear her ask, in the most
serious way, the pot of ointment still in her left hand,

"Did I do it right!"

"Oh, admirably, dear Annette! You are an angel, and I am sure you know
what pleasure you gave me. Can you come and spend an hour with me?"

"Wait a bit."

She went out and shut the door, and I waited for her to return; but my
patience being exhausted I opened the door slightly, and saw her
undressing and getting into bed with her sister. I went back to my room
and to bed again, without losing all hope. I was not disappointed, for in
five minutes back she came, clad in her chemise and walking on tip-toe.

"Come to my arms, my love; it is very cold."

"Here I am. My sister is asleep and suspects nothing; and even if she
awoke the bed is so large that she would not notice my absence."

"You are a divine creature, and I love you with all my heart."

"So much the better. I give myself up to you; do what you like with me,
on the condition that you think of my sister no more."

"That will not cost me much. I promise that I will not think of her."

I found Annette a perfect neophyte, and though I saw no blood on the
altar of love next morning I did not suspect her on that account. I have
often seen such cases, and I know by experience that the effusion of
blood or its absence proves nothing. As a general rule a girl cannot be
convicted of having had a lover unless she be with child.

I spent two hours of delight with this pretty baby, for she was so small,
so delicate, and so daintily shaped all over, that I can find no better
name for her. Her docility did not detract from the piquancy of the
pleasure, for she was voluptuously inclined.

When I rose in the morning she came to my room with Veronique, and I was
glad to see that while the younger sister was radiant with happiness the
elder looked pleasant and as if she desired to make herself agreeable. I
asked her how she was, and she told me that diet and sleep had completely
cured her. "I have always found them the best remedy for a headache."
Annette had also cured me of the curiosity I had felt about her. I
congratulated myself on my achievement.

I was in such high spirits at supper that M. de Grimaldi thought I had
won everything from Veronique, and I let him think so. I promised to dine
with him the next day, and I kept my word. After dinner I gave him a long
letter for Rosalie, whom I did not expect to see again except as Madame
Petri, though I took care not to let the marquis know what I thought.

In the evening I supped with the two sisters, and I made myself equally
agreeable to both of them. When Veronique was alone with me, putting my
hair into curl-papers, she said that she loved me much more now that I
behaved discreetly.

"My discretion," I replied, "only means that I have given up the hope of
winning you. I know how to take my part."

"Your love was not very great, then?"

"It sprang up quickly, and you, Veronique, could have made it increase to
a gigantic size."

She said nothing, but bit her lip, wished me good night and left the
room. I went to bed expecting a visit from Annette, but I waited in vain.
When I rang the next morning the dear girl appeared looking rather sad. I
asked her the reason.

"Because my sister is ill, and spent the whole night in writing," said
she.

Thus I learnt the reason of her not having paid me a visit.

"Do you know what she was writing about?"

"Oh, no! She does not tell me that kind of thing, but here is a letter
for you."

I read through the long and well-composed letter, but as it bore marks of
craft and dissimulation it made me laugh. After several remarks of no
consequence she said that she had repulsed me because she loved me so
much and that she was afraid that if she satisfied my fancy she might
lose me.

"I will be wholly yours," she added, "if you will give me the position
which Rosalie enjoyed. I will travel in your company, but you must give
me a document, which M. de Grimaldi will sign as a witness, in which you
must engage to marry me in a year, and to give me a portion of fifty
thousand francs; and if at the end of a year you do not wish to marry me,
that sum to be at my absolute disposal."

She stipulated also that if she became a mother in the course of a year
the child should be hers in the event of our separating. On these
conditions she would become my mistress, and would have for me all
possible love and kindness.

This proposal, cleverly conceived, but foolishly communicated to me,
shewed me that Veronique had not the talent of duping others. I saw
directly that M. de Grimaldi had nothing to do with it, and I felt sure
that he would laugh when I told him the story.

Annette soon came back with the chocolate, and told me that her sister
hoped I would answer her letter.

"Yes, dear," said I, "I will answer her when I get up."

I took my chocolate, put on my dressing-gown, and went to Veronique's
room. I found her sitting up in bed in a negligent attire that might have
attracted me if her letter had not deprived her of my good opinion. I sat
on the bed, gave her back the letter, and said,--

"Why write, when we can talk the matter over?"

"Because one is often more at ease in writing than in speaking."

"In diplomacy and business that will pass, but not in love. Love makes no
conditions. Let us have no documents, no safeguards, but give yourself up
to me as Rosalie did, and begin to-night without my promising anything.
If you trust in love, you will make him your prisoner. That way will
honour us and our pleasures, and if you like I will consult M. de
Grimaldi on the subject. As to your plan, if it does not injure your
honour, it does small justice to your common sense, and no one but a fool
would agree to it. You could not possibly love the man to whom you make
such a proposal, and as to M. de Grimaldi, far from having anything to do
with it, I am sure he would be indignant at the very idea."

This discourse did not put Veronique out of countenance. She said she did
not love me well enough to give herself to me unconditionally; to which I
replied that I was not sufficiently taken with her charms to buy them at
the price she fixed, and so I left her.

I called Costa, and told him to go and warn the master of the felucca
that I was going the next day, and with this idea I went to bid good-bye
to the marquis, who informed me that he had just been taking Petri to see
Rosalie, who had received him well enough. I told him I was glad to hear
it, and said that I commended to him the care of her happiness, but such
commendations were thrown away.

It is one of the most curious circumstances of my history, that in one
year two women whom I sincerely loved and whom I might have married were
taken from me by two old men, whose affections I had fostered without
wishing to do so. Happily these gentlemen made my mistresses' fortunes,
but on the other hand they did me a still greater service in relieving me
of a tie which I should have found very troublesome in course of time. No
doubt they both saw that my fortune, though great in outward show, rested
on no solid basis, which, as the reader will see, was unhappily too true.
I should be happy if I thought that my errors or rather follies would
serve as a warning to the readers of these Memoirs.

I spent the day in watching the care with which Veronique and Annette
packed up my trunks, for I would not let my two servants help in any way.
Veronique was neither sad nor gay. She looked as if she had made up her
mind, and as if there had never been any differences between us. I was
very glad, for as I no longer cared for her I should have been annoyed to
find that she still cared for me.

We supped in our usual manner, discussing only commonplace topics, but
just as I was going to bed Annette shook my hand in a way that told me to
prepare for a visit from her. I admired the natural acuteness of young
girls, who take their degrees in the art of love with so much ease and at
such an early age. Annette, almost a child, knew more than a young man of
twenty. I decided on giving her fifty sequins without letting Veronique
see me, as I did not intend to be so liberal towards her. I took a roll
of ducats and gave them to her as soon as she came.

She lay down beside me, and after a moment devoted to love she said that
Veronique was asleep, adding,--

"I heard all you said to my sister, and I am sure you love her."

"If I did, dear Annette, I should not have made my proposal in such plain
terms."

"I should like to believe that, but what would you have done if she had
accepted your offer? You would be in one bed by this, I suppose?"

"I was more than certain, dearest, that her pride would hinder her
receiving me."

We had reached this point in our conversation when we were surprised by
the sudden appearance of Veronique with a lighted candle, and wearing
only her chemise. She laughed at her sister to encourage her, and I
joined in the laughter, keeping a firm hold on the little one for fear of
her escaping. Veronique looked ravishing in her scanty attire, and as she
laughed I could not be angry with her. However, I said,--

"You have interrupted our enjoyment, and hurt your sister's feelings;
perhaps you will despise her for the future?"

"On the contrary, I shall always love her."

"Her feelings overcame her, and she surrendered to me without making any
terms."

"She has more sense than I."

"Do you mean that?"

"I do, really."

"I am astonished and delighted to hear it; but as it is so, kiss your
sister."

At this invitation Veronique put down the candle, and covered Annette's
beautiful body with kisses. The scene made me feel very happy.

"Come, Veronique," said I, "you will die of cold; come and lie down."

I made room for her, and soon there were three of us under the same
sheet. I was in an ecstasy at this group, worthy of Aretin's pencil.

"Dearest ones," said I, "you have played me a pretty trick; was it
premeditated? And was Veronique false this morning, or is she false now?"

"We did not premeditate anything, I was true this morning, and I am true
now. I feel that I and my plan were very silly, and I hope you will
forgive me, since I have repented and have had my punishment. Now I think
I am in my right senses, as I have yielded to the feelings with which you
inspired me when I saw you first, and against which I have fought too
long."

"What you say pleases me extremely."

"Well, forgive me and finish my punishment by shewing that you are not
angry with me."

"How am I to do that?"

"By telling me that you are vexed no longer, and by continuing to give my
sister proofs of your love."

"I swear to you that so far from being angry with you I am very fond of
you; but would you like us to be fond in your presence?"

"Yes, if you don't mind me."

Feeling excited by voluptuous emotions, I saw that my part could no
longer be a passive one.

"What do you say," said I to my blonde, "will you allow your heroic
sister to remain a mere looker-on at our sweet struggles? Are you not
generous enough to let me make her an actress in the drama?"

"No; I confess I do not feel as if I could be so generous to-night, but
next night, if you will play the same part, we will change. Veronique
shall act and I will look on."

"That would do beautifully," said Veronique, with some vexation in her
manner, "if the gentleman was not going to-morrow morning."

"I will stay, dear Veronique, if only to prove how much I love you."

I could not have wished for plainer speech on her part, and I should have
liked to shew her how grateful I felt on the spot; but that would have
been at Annette's expense, as I had no right to make any alteration in
the piece of which she was the author and had a right to expect all the
profits. Whenever I recall this pleasant scene I feel my heart beat with
voluptuous pleasure, and even now, with the hand of old age upon me, I
can not recall it without delight.

Veronique resigned herself to the passive part which her younger sister
imposed on her, and turning aside she leant her head on her hand,
disclosing a breast which would have excited the coldest of men, and bade
me begin my attack on Annette. It was no hard task she laid upon me, for
I was all on fire, and I was certain of pleasing her as long as she
looked at me. As Annette was short-sighted, she could not distinguish in
the heat of the action which way I was looking, and I succeeded in
getting my right hand free, without her noticing me, and I was thus
enabled to communicate a pleasure as real though not as acute as that
enjoyed by her sister. When the coverlet was disarranged, Veronique took
the trouble to replace it, and thus offered me, as if by accident, a new
spectacle. She saw how I enjoyed the sight of her charms, and her eye
brightened. At last, full of unsatisfied desire, she shewed me all the
treasures which nature had given her, just as I had finished with Annette
for the fourth time. She might well think that I was only rehearsing for
the following night, and her fancy must have painted her coming joys in
the brightest colours. Such at all events were my thoughts, but the fates
determined otherwise. I was in the middle of the seventh act, always
slower and more pleasant for the actress than the first two or three,
when Costa came knocking loudly at my door, calling out that the felucca
was ready. I was vexed at this untoward incident, got up in a rage, and
after telling him to pay the master for the day, as I was not going till
the morrow, I went back to bed, no longer, however, in a state to
continue the work I begun. My two sweethearts were delighted with me, but
we all wanted rest, though the piece should not have finished with an
interruption. I wanted to get some amusement out of the interval, and
proposed an ablution, which made Annette laugh and which Veronique
pronounced to be absolutely necessary. I found it a delicious hors
d'oeuvre to the banquet I had enjoyed. The two sisters rendered each
other various services, standing in the most lascivious postures, and I
found my situation as looker-on an enviable one.

When the washing and the laughter it gave rise to were over, we returned
to the stage where the last act should have been performed. I longed to
begin again, and I am sure I should have succeeded if I had been well
backed up by my partner; but Annette, who was young and tired out with
the toils of the night, forgot her part, and yielded to sleep as she had
yielded to love. Veronique began to laugh when she saw her asleep, and I
had to do the same, when I saw that she was as still as a corpse.

"What a pity!" said Veronique's eyes; but she said it with her eyes
alone, while I was waiting for these words to issue from her lips. We
were both of us wrong: she for not speaking, and I for waiting for her to
speak. It was a favourable moment, but we let it pass by, and love
punished us. I had, it is true, another reason for abstaining. I wished
to reserve myself for the night. Veronique went to her own bed to quiet
her excited feelings, and I stayed in bed with my sleeping beauty till
noon, when I wished her good morning by a fresh assault which was
completed neither on her side nor on mine to the best of my belief.

The day was spent in talking about ourselves, and determined to eat only
one meal, we did not sit down to table till night began to fall. We spent
two hours in the consumption of delicate dishes, and in defying Bacchus
to make us feel his power. We rose as we saw Annette falling asleep, but
we were not much annoyed at the thought that she would not see the
pleasures we promised each other. I thought that I should have enough to
do to contemplate the charms of the one nymph without looking at
Annette's beauties. We went to bed, our arms interlaced, our bodies tight
together, and lip pressed on lip, but that was all. Veronique saw what
prevented me going any further, and she was too polite and modest to
complain. She dissembled her feelings and continued to caress me, while I
was in a frenzy of rage. I had never had such a misfortune, unless as the
result of complete exhaustion, or from a strong mental impression capable
of destroying my natural faculties. Let my readers imagine what I
suffered; in the flower of my age, with a strong constitution, holding
the body of a woman I had ardently desired in my arms, while she tenderly
caressed me, and yet I could do nothing for her. I was in despair; one
cannot offer a greater insult to a woman.

At last we had to accept the facts and speak reasonably, and I was the
first to bewail my misfortune.

"You tired yourself too much yesterday," said she, "and you were not
sufficiently temperate at supper. Do not let it trouble you, dearest, I
am sure you love me. Do not try to force nature, you will only weaken
yourself more. I think a gentle sleep would restore your manly powers
better than anything. I can't sleep myself, but don't mind me. Sleep, we
will make love together afterwards."

After those excellent and reasonable suggestions, Veronique turned her
back to me and I followed her example, but in vain did I endeavour to
obtain a refreshing slumber; nature which would not give me the power of
making her, the loveliest creature, happy, envied me the power of repose
as well. My amorous ardour and my rage forbade all thoughts of rest, and
my excited passions conspired against that which would enable them to
satisfy their desires. Nature punished me for having distrusted her, and
because I had taken stimulants fit only for the weak. If I had fasted, I
should have done great things, but now there was a conflict between the
stimulants and nature, and by my desire for enjoyment I had deprived
myself of the power to enjoy. Thus nature, wise like its Divine Author,
punishes the ignorance and presumption of poor weak mortals.

Throughout this terrible and sleepless night my mind roamed abroad, and
amidst the reproaches with which I overwhelmed myself I found a certain
satisfaction in the thought that they were not wholly undeserved. This is
the sole enjoyment I still have when I meditate on my past life and its
varied adventures. I feel that no misfortune has befallen me save by my
own fault, whilst I attribute to natural causes the blessings, of which I
have enjoyed many. I think I should go mad if in my soliloquies I came
across any misfortune which I could not trace to my own fault, for I
should not know where to place the reason, and that would degrade me to
the rank of creatures governed by instinct alone. I feel that I am
somewhat more than a beast. A beast, in truth, is a foolish neighbour of
mine, who tries to argue that the brutes reason better than we do.

"I will grant," I said, "that they reason better than you, but I can go
no farther; and I think every reasonable man would say as much."

This reply has made me an enemy, although he admits the first part of the
thesis.

Happier than I, Veronique slept for three hours; but she was disagreeably
surprised on my telling her that I had not been able to close an eye, and
on finding me in the same state of impotence as before. She began to get
angry when I tried to convince her rather too forcibly that my misfortune
was not due to my want of will, and then she blamed herself as the cause
of my impotence; and mortified by the idea, she endeavoured to destroy
the spell by all the means which passion suggested, and which I had
hitherto thought infallible; but her efforts and mine were all thrown
away. My despair was as great as hers when at last, wearied, ashamed, and
degraded in her own eyes, she discontinued her efforts, her eyes full of
tears. She went away without a word, and left me alone for the two or
three hours which had still to elapse before the dawn appeared.

At day-break Costa came and told me that the sea being rough and a
contrary wind blowing, the felucca would be in danger of perishing.

"We will go as soon as the weather improves," said I; "in the mean time
light me a fire."

I arose, and proceeded to write down the sad history of the night. This
occupation soothed me, and feeling inclined to sleep I lay down again and
slept for eight hours. When I awoke I felt better, but still rather sad.
The two sisters were delighted to see me in good health, but I thought I
saw on Veronique's features an unpleasant expression of contempt.
However, I had deserved it, and I did not take the trouble of changing
her opinion, though if she had been more caressing she might easily have
put me in a state to repair the involuntary wrongs I had done her in the
night. Before we sat down to table I gave her a present of a hundred
sequins, which made her look a little more cheerful. I gave an equal
present to my dear Annette, who had not expected anything, thinking
herself amply recompensed by my first gift and by the pleasure I had
afforded her.

At midnight the master of the felucca came to tell me that the wind had
changed, and I took leave of the sisters. Veronique shed tears, but I
knew to what to attribute them. Annette kissed me affectionately; thus
each played her own part. I sailed for Lerici, where I arrived the next
day, and then posted to Leghorn. Before I speak of this town I think I
shall interest my readers by narrating a circumstance not unworthy of
these Memoirs.




CHAPTER VI

A Clever Cheat--Passano--Pisa--Corilla--My Opinion of
Squinting Eyes--Florence--I See Therese Again--My Son--
Corticelli

I was standing at some distance from my carriage into which they were
putting four horses, when a man accosted me and asked me if I would pay
in advance or at the next stage. Without troubling to look at him I said
I would pay in advance, and gave him a coin requesting him to bring me
the change.

"Directly, sir," said he, and with that he went into the inn.

A few minutes after, just as I was going to look after my change, the
post-master came up and asked me to pay for the stage.

"I have paid already, and I am waiting for my change. Did I not give the
money to you?"

"Certainly not, sir."

"Whom did I give it to, then?"

"I really can't say; but you will be able to recognize the man,
doubtless."

"It must have been you or one of your people."

I was speaking loud, and all the men came about me.

"These are all the men in my employ," said the master, and he asked if
any of them had received the money from me.

They all denied the fact with an air of sincerity which left no room for
suspicion. I cursed and swore, but they let me curse and swear as much as
I liked. At last I discovered that there was no help for it, and I paid a
second time, laughing at the clever rascal who had taken me in so
thoroughly. Such are the lessons of life; always full of new experiences,
and yet one never knows enough. From that day I have always taken care
not to pay for posting except to the proper persons.

In no country are knaves so cunning as in Italy, Greece ancient and
modern excepted.

When I got to the best inn at Leghorn they told me that there was a
theatre, and my luck made me go and see the play. I was recognized by an
actor who accosted me, and introduced me to one of his comrades, a
self-styled poet, and a great enemy of the Abbe Chiari, whom I did not
like, as he had written a biting satire against me, and I had never
succeeded in avenging myself on him. I asked them to come and sup with
me--a windfall which these people are not given to refusing. The
pretended poet was a Genoese, and called himself Giacomo Passano. He
informed me that he had written three hundred sonnets against the abbe,
who would burst with rage if they were ever printed. As I could not
restrain a smile at the good opinion the poet had of his works, he
offered to read me a few sonnets. He had the manuscript about him, and I
could not escape the penance. He read a dozen or so, which I thought
mediocre, and a mediocre sonnet is necessarily a bad sonnet, as this form
of poetry demands sublimity; and thus amongst the myriads of sonnets to
which Italy gives birth very few can be called good.