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Title: Return to Holland, Casanova, v11

Author: Jacques Casanova de Seingalt

Release Date: December, 2001 [Etext #2961]
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MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
THE ETERNAL QUEST, Volume 2a--PARIS AND HOLLAND


THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR
MACHEN TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED
BY ARTHUR SYMONS.




PARIS AND HOLLAND





CHAPTER I

Count Tiretta of Trevisa Abbe Coste--Lambertini, the Pope's Niece Her
Nick--Name for Tiretta The Aunt and Niece--Our Talk by the Fireside--
Punishment of Damien--Tiretta's Mistake Anger of Madame***--Their
Reconciliation--My Happiness with Mdlle. de la Meure Silvia's
Daughter--Mdlle, de la Meure Marries My Despair and Jealousy--A
Change far the Better


In the beginning of March, 1757, I received a letter from my friend
Madame Manzoni, which she sent to me by a young man of good
appearance, with a frank and high-born air, whom I recognized as a
Venetian by his accent.  He was young Count Tiretta de Trevisa,
recommended to my care by Madame Manzoni, who said that he would tell
me his story, which I might be sure would be a true one.  The kind
woman sent to me by him a small box in which she told me I should
find all my manuscripts, as she did not think she would ever see me
again.

I gave Tiretta the heartiest of welcomes, telling him that he could
not have found a better way to my favour than through a woman to whom
I was under the greatest obligations.

"And now, that you may be at your ease with me, I should like to know
in what manner I can be of service to you?"

"I have need of your friendship, perhaps of your purse, but at any
rate of your protection."

"You have my friendship and my protection already, and my purse is at
your service."

After expressing his gratitude to me, Tiretta said,

"A year ago the Supreme Council of my country entrusted me with an
employment dangerous to one of my years.  I was made, with some other
young gentlemen of my own age, a keeper of the Mont de Piete.  The
pleasures of the carnival having put us to a good deal of expense, we
were short of money, and borrowed from the till hoping to be able to
make up the money before balancing-day, but hoping all in vain.

"The fathers of my two companions, richer than mine, paid the sums
they had taken, and I, not being able to pay, took the part of
escaping by flight from the shame and the punishment I should have
undergone.

"Madame Manzoni advised me to throw myself on your mercy, and she
gave me a little box which you shall have to-day.  I only got to
Paris yesterday, and have only two louis, a little linen, and the
clothes on my back.  I am twenty-five, have an iron constitution, and
a determination to do all in my power to make an honest living; but I
can do nothing.  I have not cultivated any one talent in a manner to
make use of it now.  I can play on the flute, but only as an amateur.
I only know my own language, and I have no taste for literature.  So
what can you make of me?   I must add that I have not a single
expectation, least of all from my father, for to save the honour of
the family he will be obliged to sell my portion of the estate, to
which I shall have to bid an eternal farewell."

If the count's story had surprised me, the simplicity with which he
told it had given me pleasure; and I was resolved to do honour to
Madame Manzoni's introduction, feeling that it was my duty to serve a
fellow-countryman, who was really guilty of nothing worse than gross
thoughtlessness.

"Begin," said I, "by bringing your small belongings to the room next
to mine, and get your meals there.  I will pay for everything while I
am looking out for something which may do for you.

"We will talk of business to-morrow, for as I never dine here I
rarely if ever come home till late, and I do not expect to have the
honour of seeing you again today.  Leave me for the present, as I
have got some work to do; and if you go out to walk, beware of bad
company, and whatever you do keep your own counsel.  You are fond of
gaming, I suppose?"

"I hate it, as it has been the cause of half my troubles."

"And the other half, I'll wager, was caused by women."

"You have guessed aright--oh, those women!"

"Well, don't be angry with them, but make them pay for the ill they
have done you."

"I will, with the greatest pleasure, if I can."

"If you are not too particular in your goods, you will find Paris
rich in such commodities."

"What do you mean by particular?   I would never be a prince's
pathic."

"No, no, I was not thinking of that.  I mean by 'particular' a man
who cannot be affectionate unless be is in love.  The man who...."

"I see what you mean, and I can lay no claim to such a character.
Any hag with golden eyes will always find me as affectionate as a
Celadon."

"Well said!  I shall soon be able to arrange matters for you."

"I hope you will."

"Are you going to the ambassador's?"

"Good God!--no!  What should I do when I got there?   Tell him my
story?   He might make things unpleasant for me."

"Not without your going to see him, but I expect he is not concerning
himself with your case."

"That's all I ask him."

"Everybody, my dear count, is in mourning in Paris, so go to my
tailor's and get yourself a black suit.  Tell him you come from me,
and say you want it by tomorrow.  Good bye."

I went out soon after, and did not come back till midnight.  I found
the box which Madame Manzoni had sent me in my room, and in it my
manuscripts and my beloved portraits, for I never pawned a snuff-box
without taking the portrait out.

Next day Tiretta made his appearance all in black, and thanked me for
his transformation.

"They are quick, you see, at Paris.  It would have taken a week at
Trevisa."

"Trevisa, my dear fellow, is not Paris."

As I said this, the Abbe de la Coste was announced.  I did not know
the name, but I gave orders for him to be admitted; and there
presently appeared the same little priest with whom I had dined at
Versailles after leaving the Abbe de la Ville.

After the customary greetings he began by complimenting me on the
success of my lottery, and then remarked that I had distributed
tickets for more than six thousand francs.

"Yes," I said, "and I have tickets left for several thousands more."

"Very good, then I will invest a thousand crowns in it."

"Whenever you please.  If you call at my office you can choose the
numbers."

"No, I don't think I'll trouble to do so; give me any numbers just as
they come."

"Very good; here is the list you can choose from."

He chose numbers to the amount of three thousand francs, and then
asked me for a piece of paper to write an acknowledgment.

"Why so?   I can't do business that way, as I only dispose of my
tickets for cash."

"But you may be certain that you will have the money to-morrow."

"I am quite sure I should, but you ought to be certain that you will
have the tickets to-morrow.  They are registered at my office, and I
can dispose of them in no other manner."

"Give me some which are not registered."

"Impossible; I could not do it."

"Why not?"

"Because if they proved to be winning numbers I should have to pay
out of my own pocket an honour I do not desire."

"Well, I think you might run the risk."

"I think not, if I wish to remain an honest man, at all events."

The abbe, who saw he could get nothing out of me, turned to Tiretta,
and began to speak to him in bad Italian, and at last offered to
introduce him to Madame de Lambertini, the widow of one of the Pope's
nephews.  Her name, her relationship to the Pope, and the abbe's
spontaneous offer, made me curious to know more, so I said that my
friend would accept his offer, and that I would have the honour to be
of the party; whereupon we set out.

We got down at the door of the supposed niece of the Holy Father in
the Rue Christine, and we proceeded to go upstairs.  We saw a woman
who, despite her youthful air, was, I am sure, not a day under forty.
She was rather thin, had fine black eyes, a good complexion, lively
but giddy manners, was a great laugher, and still capable of exciting
a passing fancy.  I soon made myself at home with her, and found out,
when she began to talk, that she was neither a widow nor the niece of
the Pope.  She came from Modena, and was a mere adventuress.  This
discovery shewed me what sort of a man the abbe was.

I thought from his expression that the count had taken a fancy to
her, and when she asked us to dinner I refused on the plea of an
engagement; but Tiretta, who took my meaning, accepted.  Soon after I
went away with the abbe, whom I dropped at the Quai de la Ferraille,
and I then went to beg a dinner at Calsabigi's.

After dinner Calsabigi took me on one side, and told me that M. du
Vernai had commissioned him to warn me that I could not dispose of
tickets on account.

"Does M. du Vernai take me for a fool or a knave?   As I am neither,
I shall complain to M. de Boulogne."

"You will be wrong; he merely wanted to warn you and not offend you."

"You offend me very much yourself, sir, in talking to me in that
fashion; and you may make up your mind that no one shall talk to me
thus a second time."

Calsabigi did all in his power to quiet me down, and at last
persuaded me to go with him to M. du Vernai's.  The worthy old
gentleman seeing the rage I was in apologized to me for what he had
said, and told me that a certain Abbe de la Coste had informed him
that I did so.  At this I was highly indignant, and I told him what
had happened that morning, which let M. du Vernai know what kind of a
man the abbe was.  I never saw him again, either because he got wind
of my discovery, or because a happy chance kept him out of my way;
but I heard, three years after, that he had been condemned to the
hulks for selling tickets of a Trevaux lottery which was non-
existent, and in the hulks he died.

Next day Tiretta came in, and said he had only just returned.

"You have been sleeping out, have you, master profligate?"

"Yes, I was so charmed with the she-pope that I kept her company all
the night."

"You were not afraid of being in the way?"

"On the contrary, I think she was thoroughly satisfied with my
conversation."

"As far as I can see, you had to bring into play all your powers of
eloquence."

"She is so well pleased with my fluency that she has begged me to
accept a room in her house, and to allow her to introduce me as a
cousin to M. le Noir, who, I suppose, is her lover."

"You will be a trio, then; and how do you think you will get on
together?"

"That's her business.  She says this gentleman will give me a good
situation in the Inland Revenue."

"Have you accepted her offer?"

"I did not refuse it, but I told her that I could do nothing without
your advice.  She entreated me to get you to come to dinner with her
on Sunday."

"I shall be happy to go."

I went with my friend, and as soon as the harebrain saw us she fell
on Tiretta's neck, calling him dear Count "Six-times"--a name which
stuck to him all the time he was at Paris.

"What has gained my friend so fine a title, madam?"

"His erotic achievements.  He is lord of an honour of which little is
known in France, and I am desirous of being the lady."

"I commend you for so noble an ambition."

After telling me of his feats with a freedom which chewed her
exemption from vulgar prejudice, she informed me that she wished her
cousin to live in the same house, and had already obtained M. le
Noir's permission, which was given freely.

"M. le Noir," added the fair Lambertini, "will drop in after.
dinner, and I am dying to introduce Count 'Sixtimes' to him."

After dinner she kept on speaking of the mighty deeds of my
countryman, and began to stir him up, while he, no doubt, pleased to
have a witness to his exploits, reduced her to silence.  I confess
that I witnessed the scene without excitement, but as I could not
help seeing the athletic person of the count, I concluded that he
might fare well everywhere with the ladies.

About three o'clock two elderly women arrived, to whom the Lambertini
eagerly introduced Count "Six-times."  In great astonishment they
enquired the origin of his title, and the heroine of the story having
whispered it to them, my friend became an object of interest.

"I can't believe it," said one of these ladies, ogling the count,
while his face seemed to say,

"Would you like to try?"

Shortly after, a coach stopped at the door, and a fat woman of
middle-aged appearance and a very pretty girl were ushered in; after
them came a pale man in a black suit and a long wig.  After greeting
them in a manner which implied intimacy, the Pope's niece introduced
her cousin Count "Six-strokes".  The elderly woman seemed to be
astonished at such a name, but the Lambertini gave no explanation.
Nevertheless, people seemed to think it rather curious that a man who
did not know a word of French should be living in Paris, and that in
spite of his ignorance he continued to jabber away in an easy manner,
though nobody could understand what he was talking about.

After some foolish conversation, the Pope's niece proposed a game at
Loo.  She asked me to play but on my refusing did not make a point of
it, but she insisted on her cousin being her partner.

"He knows nothing about cards," said she; "but that's no matter, he
will learn, and I will undertake to instruct him."

As the girl, by whose beauty I was struck, did not understand the
game, I offered her a seat by the fire, asking her to grant me the
honour of keeping her company, whereupon the elderly woman who had
brought her began to laugh, and said I should have some difficulty in
getting her niece to talk about anything, adding, in a polite manner,
that she hoped I would be lenient with her as she had only just left
a convent.  I assured her that I should have no difficulty in amusing
myself with one so amiable, and the game having begun I took up my
position near the pretty niece.

I had been near her for several minutes, and solely occupied in mute
admiration of her beauty, when she asked me who was that handsome
gentleman who talked so oddly.

"He is a nobleman, and a fellow-countryman of mine, whom an affair of
honour has banished from his country."

"He speaks a curious dialect."

"Yes, but the fact is that French is very little spoken in Italy; he
will soon pick it up in Paris, and then he will be laughed at no
longer.  I am sorry to have brought him here, for in less than
twenty-four hours he was spoiled."

"How spoiled?"

"I daren't tell you as, perhaps, your aunt would not like it."

"I don't think I should tell her, but, perhaps, I should not have
asked."

"Oh, yes!  you should; and as you wish to know I will make no mystery
of it.  Madame Lambertini took a fancy to him; they passed the night
together, and in token of the satisfaction he gave her she has given
him the ridiculous nickname of 'Count Sixtimes.'  That's all.  I am
vexed about it, as my friend was no profligate."

Astonishment--and very reasonable astonishment--will be expressed
that I dared to talk in this way to a girl fresh from a convent; but
I should have been astonished myself at the bare idea of any
respectable girl coming to Lambertini's house.  I fixed my gaze on my
fair companion, and saw the blush of shame mounting over her pretty
face; but I thought that might have more than one meaning.

Judge of my surprise when, two minutes afterwards, I heard this
question:

"But what has 'Sixtimes' got to do with sleeping with Madame
Lambertini?"

"My dear young lady, the explanation is perfectly simple: my friend
in a single night did what a husband often takes six weeks to do."

"And you think me silly enough to tell my aunt of what we have been
talking?   Don't believe it."

"But there's another thing I am sorry about."

"You shall tell me what that is directly."

The reason which obliged the charming niece to retire for a few
minutes may be guessed without our going into explanations.  When she
came back she went behind her aunt's chair, her eyes fixed on
Tiretta, and then came up to me, and taking her seat again, said:

"Now, what else is it that you are sorry about?" her eyes sparkling
as she asked the question.

"May I tell you, do you think?"

"You have said so much already, that I don't think you need have any
scruples in telling me the rest."

"Very good: you must know, then, that this very day and in my
presence he ------ her."

"If that displeased you, you must be jealous."

"Possibly, but the fact is that I was humbled by a circumstance I
dare not tell you."

"I think you are laughing at me with your 'dare not tell you.'"

"God forbid, mademoiselle!  I will confess, then, that I was humbled
because Madame Lambertini made me see that my friend was taller than
myself by two inches."

"Then she imposed on you, for you are taller than your friend."

"I am not speaking of that kind of tallness, but another; you know
what I mean, and there my friend is really monstrous."

"Monstrous!  then what have you to be sorry about?   Isn't it better
not to be monstrous?"

"Certainly; but in the article we are discussing, some women, unlike
you, prefer monstrosity."

"I think that's absurd of them, or rather mad; or perhaps, I have not
sufficiently clear ideas on the subject to imagine what size it would
be to be called monstrous; and I think it is odd that such a thing
should humble you."

"You would not have thought it of me, to see me?"

"Certainly not, for when I came into the room I thought you looked a
well-proportioned man, but if you are not I am sorry for you."

"I won't leave you in doubt on the subject; look for yourself, and
tell me what you think."

"Why, it's you who are the monster!  I declare you make me feel quite
afraid."

At this she began to perspire violently, and went behind her aunt's
chair.  I did not stir, as I was sure she would soon come back,
putting her down in my own mind as very far removed from silliness or
innocence either.  I supposed she wished to affect what she did not
possess.  I was, moreover, delighted at having taken the opportunity
so well.  I had punished her for having tried to impose on me; and as
I had taken a great fancy to her, I was pleased that she seemed to
like her punishment.  As for her possession of wit, there could be no
doubt on that point, for it was she who had sustained the chief part
in our dialogue, and my sayings and doings were all prompted by her
questions, and the persevering way in which she kept to the subject.

She had not been behind her aunt's chair for five minutes when the
latter was looed.  She, not knowing whom to attack, turned on her
niece and said, "Get you gone, little silly, you are bringing me bad
luck!  Besides, it is bad manners to leave the gentleman who so
kindly offered to keep you company all by himself."

The amiable niece made not answer, and came back to me smiling.  "If
my aunt knew," said she, "what you had done to me, she would not have
accused me of bad manners."

"I can't tell you how sorry I am.  I want you to have some evidence
of my repentance, but all that I can do is to go.  Will you be
offended if I do?"

"If you leave me, my aunt will call me a dreadful stupid, and will
say that I have tired you out."

"Would you like me to stay, then?"

"You can't go."

"Had you no idea what I shewed you was like till just now?"

"My ideas on the subject were inaccurate.  My aunt only took me out
of the convent a month ago, and I had been there since I was seven."

"How old are you now?"

"Seventeen.  They tried to make me take the veil, but not having any
relish for the fooleries of the cloister I refused."

"Are you vexed with me?"

"I ought to be very angry with you, but I know it was my fault, so I
will only ask you to be discreet."

"Don't be afraid, if I were indiscreet I should be the first to
suffer."

"You have given me a lesson which will come in useful.  Stop! stop!
or I will go away."

"No, keep quiet; it's done now."

I had taken her pretty hand, with which she let me do as I liked, and
at last when she drew it back she was astonished to find it wanted
wiping.

"What is that?"

"The most pleasant of substances, which renovates the world."

"I see you are an excellent master.  Your pupils make rapid progress,
and you give your lessons with such a learned air."

"Now don't be angry with me for what has happened.  I should never
have dared to go so far if your beauty had not inspired me."

"Am I to take that speech as a declaration of love?"

"Yes, it is bold, sweetheart, but it is sincere.  If it were not, I
should be unworthy both of you and of myself."

"Can I believe you?"

"Yes, with all your heart.  But tell me if I may hope for your love?"

"I don't know.  All I know at present is that I ought to hate you,
for in the space of a quarter of an hour you have taught me what I
thought I should never know till I was married."

"Are you sorry?"

"I ought to be, although I feel that I have nothing more to learn on
a matter which I never dared to think about.  But how is it that you
have got so quiet?"

"Because we are talking reasonably and after the rapture love
requires some repose.  But look at this!"

"What! again?   Is that the rest of the lesson?"

"It is the natural result of it."

"How is it that you don't frighten me now?"

"The soldier gets used to fire."

"I see our fire is going out."

With these words she took up a stick to poke the fire, and as she was
stooping down in a favourable position my rash hand dared to approach
the porch of the temple, and found the door closed in such sort that
it would be necessary to break it open if one wished to enter the
sanctuary.  She got up in a dignified way, and told me in a polite
and feeling manner that she was a well-born girl and worthy of
respect.  Pretending to be confused I made a thousand excuses, and I
soon saw the amiable expression return to the face which it became so
well.  I said that in spite of my repentance I was glad to know that
she had never made another man happy.

"Believe me," she said, "that if I make anyone happy it will be my
husband, to whom I have given my hand and heart."

I took her hand, which she abandoned to my rapturous kisses.  I had
reached this pleasant stage in the proceedings when M. le Noir was
announced, he having come to enquire what the Pope's niece had to say
to him.

M. le Noir, a man of a certain age and of a simple appearance, begged
the company to remain seated.  The Lambertini introduced me to him,
and he asked if I were the artist; but on being informed that I was
his elder brother, he congratulated me on my lottery and the esteem
in which M. du Vernai held me.  But what interested him most was the
cousin whom the fair niece of the Pope introduced to him under his
real name of Tiretta, thinking, doubtless, that his new title would
not carry much weight with M. le Noir.  Taking up the discourse, I
told him that the count was commanded to me by a lady whom I greatly
esteemed, and that he had been obliged to leave his country for the
present on account of an affair of honour.  The Lambertini added that
she wished to accommodate him, but had not liked to do so till she
had consulted M. le Noir.  "Madam," said the worthy man, "you have
sovereign power in your house, and I shall be delighted to see the
count in your society."

As M. le Noir spoke Italian very well, Tiretta left the table, and we
sat down all four of us by the fire, where my fresh conquest had an
opportunity of shewing her wit.  M. le Noir was a man of much
intelligence and great experience.  He made her talk of the convent
where she had been, and as soon as he knew her name he began to speak
of her father, with whom he had been well acquainted.  He was a
councillor of the Parliament of Rouen, and had enjoyed a great
reputation during his lifetime.

My sweetheart was above the ordinary height, her hair was a fine
golden colour, and her regular features, despite the brilliance of
her eyes, expressed candour and modesty.  Her dress allowed me to
follow all the lines of her figure, and the eyes dwelt pleasantly on
the beauty of her form, and on the two spheres which seemed to lament
their too close confinement.  Although M. le Noir said nothing of all
this, it was easy to see that in his own way he admired her
perfections no less than I.  He left us at eight o'clock, and half an
hour afterwards the fat aunt went away followed by her charming niece
and the pale man who had come with them.  I lost no time in taking
leave with Tiretta, who promised the Pope's niece to join her on the
morrow, which he did.

Three or four days later I received at my office a letter from Mdlle.
de la Meure--the pretty niece.  It ran as follows: "Madame, my aunt,
my late mother's sister, is a devotee, fond of gaming, rich, stingy,
and unjust.  She does not like me, and not having succeeded in
persuading me to take the veil, she wants to marry me to a wealthy
Dunkirk merchant, whom I do not know, but (mark this) whom she does
not know any more than I do.  The matrimonial agent has praised him
very much, and very naturally, as a man must praise his own goods.
This gentleman is satisfied with an income of twelve hundred francs
per annum, but he promises to leave me in his will no less than a
hundred and fifty thousand francs.  You must know that by my mother's
will my aunt is obliged to pay me on my wedding day twenty-five
thousand crowns.

"If what has taken place between us has not made me contemptible in
your sight, I offer you my hand and heart with sixty-five thousand
francs, and as much more on my aunt's death.

"Don't send me any answer, as I don't know how or by whom to receive
your letter.  You can answer me in your own person next Sunday at
Madame Lambertini's.  You will thus have four days whereon to
consider this most important question.  I do not exactly know whether
I love you, but I am quite sure that I prefer you to any other man.
I know that each of us has still to gain the other's esteem, but I am
sure you would make my life a happy one, and that I should be a
faithful wife.  If you think that the happiness I seek can add to
your own, I must warn you that you will need the aid of a lawyer, as
my aunt is miserly, and will stick at trifles.

"If you decide in the affirmative you must find a convent for me to
take refuge in before I commit myself to anything, as otherwise I
should be exposed to the harsh treatment I wish to avoid.  If, on the
other hand, my proposal does not meet your views, I have one favour
to ask by granting which you will earn my everlasting gratitude.
This is that you will endeavour to see me no more, and will take care
not to be present in any company in which you think I am to be found.
Thus you will help me to forget you, and this is the least you can do
for me.  You may guess that I shall never be happy till I have become
your wife or have forgotten you.  Farewell!  I reckon upon seeing you
on Sunday."

This letter affected me.  I felt that it was dictated by prudent,
virtuous, and honourable feelings, and I found even more merit in the
intellectual endowments of the girl than in her beauty.  I blushed at
having in a manner led her astray, and I should have thought myself
worthy of punishment if I had been capable of refusing the hand
offered to me with so much nobility of feeling.  And a second but
still a powerful consideration made me look complacently upon a
fortune larger than I could reasonably expect to win.  Nevertheless,
the idea of the marriage state, for which I felt I had no vocation,
made me tremble.

I knew myself too well not to be aware that as a married man I should
be unhappy, and, consequently, with the best intentions I should fail
in making the woman's life a happy one.  My uncertainty in the four
days which she had wisely left me convinced me that I was not in love
with her.  In spite of that, so weak was I that I could not summon up
courage to reject her offer--still less to tell her so frankly, which
would have made her esteem me.

During these four days I was entirely absorbed in this one subject.
I bitterly repented of having outraged her modesty, for I now
esteemed and respected her, but yet I could not make up my mind to
repair the wrong I had done her.  I could not bear to incur her
dislike, but the idea of tying myself down was dreadful to me; and
such is the condition of a man who has to choose between two
alternatives, and cannot make up his mind.

Fearing lest my evil genius should take me to the opera or elsewhere,
and in spite of myself make me miss my appointment, I resolved to
dine with the Lambertini without having come to any decision.  The
pious niece of the Pope was at mass when I reached her house.  I
found Tiretta engaged in playing on the flute, but as soon as he saw
me he dropped the instrument, ran up to me, embraced me, and gave me
back the money his suit had cost me.

"I see you are in cash, old fellow; I congratulate you."

"It's a grievous piece of luck to me, for the money is stolen, and I
am sorry I have got it though I was an accomplice in the theft."

"What! the money is stolen?"

"Yes, sharping is done here, and I have been taught to help.  I share
in their ill-gotten gains because I have not the strength of mind to
refuse.  My landlady and two or three women of the same sort pluck
the pigeons.  The business does not suit me, and I am thinking of
leaving it.  Sooner or later I shall kill or be killed, and either
event will be the death of me, so I am thinking of leaving this
cutthroat place as soon as possible."

"I advise you--nay, I bid you do so by all means, and I should think
you had better be gone to-day than to-morrow."

"I don't want to do anything suddenly, as M. le Noir is a gentleman
and my friend, and he thinks me a cousin to this wretched woman.  As
he knows nothing of the infamous trade she carries on, he would
suspect something, and perhaps would leave her after learning the
reason of my departure.  I shall find some excuse or other in the
course of the next five or six days, and then I will make haste and
return to you."

The Lambertini thanked me for coming to dinner in a friendly manner,
and told me that we should have the company of Mdlle. de la Meure and
her aunt.  I asked her if she was still satisfied with my friend
"Sixtimes," and she told me that though the count did not always
reside on his manor, she was for all that delighted with him; and
said she,

"I am too good a monarch to ask too much of my vassals."

I congratulated her, and we continued to jest till the arrival of the
two other guests.

As soon as Mdlle. de la Meure saw me she could scarcely conceal her
pleasure.  She was in half mourning, and looked so pretty in this
costume, which threw up the whiteness of her skin, that I still
wonder why that instant did not determine my fate.

Tiretta, who had been making his toilette, rejoined us, and as
nothing prevented me from shewing the liking I had taken for the
amiable girl I paid her all possible attention.  I told the aunt that
I found her niece so pretty that I would renounce my bachelorhood if
I could find such a mate.

"My niece is a virtuous and sweet-tempered 'girl, sir, but she is
utterly devoid either of intelligence or piety."

"Never mind the intelligence," said the niece, "but I was never found
wanting in piety at the convent."

"I dare say the nuns are of the jesuitical party."

"What has that got to do with it, aunt?"

"Very much, child; the Jesuits and their adherents are well known to
have no vital religion.  But let us talk of something else.  All that
I want you to do is to know how to please your future husband."

"Is mademoiselle about to marry, then?"

"Her intended will probably arrive at the beginning of next month."

"Is he a lawyer?"

"No, sir; he is a well-to-do merchant."

"M. le Noir told me that your niece was the daughter of a councillor,
and I did not imagine that you would sanction her marrying beneath
her."

"There will be no question of such a thing in this instance, sir;
and, after all, what is marrying beneath one?   My niece's intended
is an honest, and therefore a noble, man, and I am sure it will be
her fault if she does not lead a life of perfect happiness with him"

"Quite so, supposing she loves him."

"Oh! love and all that kind of thing will come in good time, you
know."

As these remarks could only give pain to the young lady, who listened
in silence, I changed the conversation to the enormous crowd which
would be present at the execution of Damien, and finding them
extremely desirous of witnessing this horrible sight I offered them a
large window with an excellent view.  The ladies accepted with great
pleasure, and I promised to escort them in good time.

I had no such thing as a window, but I knew that in Paris, as
everywhere, money will procure anything.  After dinner I went out on
the plea of business, and, taking the first coach I came across, in a
quarter of an hour I succeeded in renting a first floor window in
excellent position for three louis.  I paid in advance, taking care
to have a receipt.

My business over, I hastened to rejoin the company, and found them
engaged in piquet.  Mdlle. de la Meure, who knew nothing about it,
was tired of looking on.  I came up to her, and having something to
say we went to the other end of the room.

"Your letter, dearest, has made me the happiest of men.  You have
displayed in it such intelligence and such admirable characteristics
as would win you the fervent adoration of every man of good sense."

"I only want one man's love.  I will be content with the esteem of
the rest."

"My angel, I will make you my wife, and I shall bless till my latest
breath the lucky audacity to which I owe my being chosen before other
men who would not have refused your hand, even without the fifty
thousand crowns, which are nothing in comparison with your beauty and
your wit."

"I am very glad you like me so much."

"Could I do otherwise?   And now that you know my heart, do nothing
hastily, but trust in me."

"You will not forget how I am placed."

"I will bear it in mind.  Let me have time to take a house, to
furnish it and to put myself in a position in which I shall be worthy
of your hand.  You must remember that I am only in furnished
apartments; that you are well connected, and that I should not like
to be regarded as a fortune-hunter."

"You know that my intended husband will soon arrive?"

"Yes, I will take care of that."

"When he does come, you know, matters will be pushed on rapidly."

"Not too rapidly for me to be able to set you free in twenty-four
hours, and without letting your aunt know that the blow comes from
me.  You may rest assured, dearest, that the minister for foreign
affairs, on being assured that you wish to marry me, and me only,
will get you an inviolable asylum in the best convent in Paris.  He
will also retain counsel on your behalf, and if your mother's will is
properly drawn out your aunt will soon be obliged to hand over your
dowry, and to give security for the rest of the property.  Do not
trouble yourself about the matter, but let the Dunkirk merchant come
when he likes.  At all hazards, you may reckon upon me, and you may
be sure you will not be in your aunt's house on the day fixed for the
wedding."

"I confide in you entirely, but for goodness' sake say no more on a
circumstance which wounds my sense of modesty.  You said that I
offered you marriage because you took liberties with me?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Yes, partly, at all events; and you ought to know that if I had not
good reasons I should have done a very foolish thing in offering to
marry you, but I may as well tell you that, liberties or no
liberties, I should always have liked you better than anyone."

I was beside myself with joy, and seizing her hand I covered it with
tender and respectful kisses; and I feel certain that if a notary and
priest had been then and there available, I should have married her
without the smallest hesitation.

Full of each other, like all lovers, we paid no attention to the
horrible racket that was going on at the other end of the room.  At
last I thought it my duty to see what was happening, and leaving my
intended I rejoined the company to quiet Tiretta.

I saw on the table a casket, its lid open, and full of all sorts of
jewels; close by were two men who were disputing with Tiretta, who
held a book in one hand.  I saw at once that they were talking about
a lottery, but why were they disputing?   Tiretta told me they were a
pair of knaves who had won thirty or forty louis of him by means of
the book, which he handed to me.

"Sir," said one of the gamesters, "this book treats of a lottery in
which all the calculations are made in the fairest manner possible.
It contains twelve hundred leaves, two hundred being winning leaves,
while the rest are blanks.  Anyone who wants to play has only to pay
a crown, and then to put a pin's point at random between two leaves
of the closed book.  The book is then opened at the place where the
pin is, and if the leaf is blank the player loses; but if, on the
other hand, the leaf bears a number, he is given the corresponding
ticket, and an article of the value indicated on the ticket is then
handed to him.  Please to observe, sir, that the lowest prize is
twelve francs, and there are some numbers worth as much as six
hundred francs, and even one to the value of twelve hundred.  We have
been playing for an hour, and have lost several costly articles, and
madam," pointing to my sweetheart's aunt, "has won a ring worth six
louis, but as she preferred cash, she continued playing and lost the
money she had gained."

"Yes," said the aunt, "and these gentlemen have won everybody's money
with their accursed game; which proves it is all a mere cheat."

"It proves they are rogues," said Tiretta.

"But gentlemen," answered one of them, "in that case the receivers of
the Government lottery are rogues too"; whereon Tiretta gave him a
box on the ear.  I threw myself between the two combatants, and told
them not to speak a word.

"All lotteries," said I, "are advantageous to the holders, but the
king is at the head of the Government lottery, and I am the principal
receiver, in which character I shall proceed to confiscate this
casket, and give you the choice of the following alternatives: You
can, if you like, return to the persons present the money you have
unlawfully won from them, whereupon I will let you go with your box.
If you refuse to do so, I shall send for a policeman, who will take
you to prison, and to-morrow you will be tried by M. Berier, to whom
I shall take this book in the morning.  We shall soon see whether we
are rogues as well as they."

Seeing that they had to do with a man of determination, and that
resistance would only result in their losing all, they resolved with
as good a grace as they could muster to return all their winnings,
and for all I know double the sum, for they were forced to return
forty louis, though they swore they had only won twenty.  The company
was too select for me to venture to decide between them.  In point of
fact I was rather inclined to believe the rascals, but I was angry
with them, and I wanted them to pay a good price for having made a
comparison, quite right in the main, but odious to me in the extreme.
The same reason, doubtless, prevented me from giving them back their
book, which I had no earthly right to keep, and which they asked me
in vain to return to them.  My firmness and my threats, and perhaps
also the fear of the police, made them think themselves lucky to get
off with their jewel-box.  As soon as they were gone the ladies, like
the kindly creatures they were, began to pity them.  "You might have
given them back their book," they said to me.

"And you, ladies, might have let them keep their money."

"But they cheated us of it."

"Did they?  Well, their cheating was done with the book, and I have
done them a kindness by taking it from them."

They felt the force of my remarks, and the conversation took another
turn.

Early next morning the two gamesters paid me a visit bringing with
them as a bribe a beautiful casket containing twenty-four lovely
pieces of Dresden china.  I found this argument irresistible, and I
felt obliged to return them the book, threatening them at the same
time with imprisonment if they dared to carry on their business in
Paris for the future.  They promised me to abstain from doing so--no
doubt with a mental reservation, but I cared nothing about that.

I resolved to offer this beautiful gift to Mdlle. de la Meure, and I
took it to her the same day.  I had a hearty welcome, and the aunt
loaded me with thanks.

On March the 28th, the day of Damien's martyrdom, I went to fetch the
ladies in good time; and as the carriage would scarcely hold us all,
no objection was made to my taking my sweetheart on my knee, and in
this order we reached the Place de Greve.  The three ladies packing
themselves together as tightly as possible took up their positions at
the window, leaning forward on their elbows, so as to prevent us
seeing from behind.  The window had two steps to it, and they stood
on the second; and in order to see we had to stand on the same step,
for if we had stood on the first we should not have been able to see
over their heads.  I have my reasons for giving these minutiae, as
otherwise the reader would have some difficulty in guessing at the
details which I am obliged to pass over in silence.

We had the courage to watch the dreadful sight for four hours.  The
circumstances of Damien's execution are too well known to render it
necessary for me to speak of them; indeed, the account would be too
long a one, and in my opinion such horrors are an offence to our
common humanity.

Damien was a fanatic, who, with the idea of doing a good work and
obtaining a heavenly reward, had tried to assassinate Louis XV.; and
though the attempt was a failure, and he only gave the king a slight
wound, he was torn to pieces as if his crime had been consummated.

While this victim of the Jesuits was being executed, I was several
times obliged to turn away my face and to stop my ears as I heard his
piercing shrieks, half of his body having been torn from him, but the
Lambertini and the fat aunt did not budge an inch.  Was it because
their hearts were hardened?   They told me, and I pretended to
believe them, that their horror at the wretch's wickedness prevented
Them feeling that compassion which his unheard-of torments should
have excited.  The fact was that Tiretta kept the pious aunt
curiously engaged during the whole time of the execution, and this,
perhaps, was what prevented the virtuous lady from moving or even
turning her head round.

Finding himself behind her, he had taken the precaution to lift up
her dress to avoid treading on it.  That, no doubt, was according to
the rule; but soon after, on giving an involuntary glance in their
direction, I found that Tiretta had carried his precautions rather
far, and, not wishing to interrupt my friend or to make the lady feel
awkward, I turned my head and stood in such a way that my sweetheart
could see nothing of what was going on; this put the good lady at her
ease.  For two hours after I heard a continuous rustling, and
relishing the joke I kept quiet the whole time.  I admired Tiretta's
hearty appetite still more than his courage, but what pleased me most
was the touching resignation with which the pious aunt bore it all.

At the end of this long session I saw Madame turn round, and doing
the same I fixed my gaze on Tiretta, and found him looking as fresh
and cool as if nothing had happened, but the aunt seemed to me to
have a rather pensive appearance.  She had been under the fatal
necessity of keeping quiet and letting Tiretta do what he liked for
fear of the Lambertini's jests, and lest her niece might be
scandalized by the revelation of mysteries of which she was supposed
to know nothing.

We set out, and having dropped the Pope's niece at her door, I begged
her to lend me Tiretta for a few hours, and I then took Madame to her
house in the Rue St.  Andre-des-Arts.  She asked me to come and see
her the following day as she had something to tell me, and I remarked
that she took no notice of my friend as she left us.  We went to the
"Hotel de Russie," where they gave you an excellent dinner for six
francs a head, and I thought my mad friend stood in need of
recruiting his strength.

"What were you doing behind Madame--?" said I.

"I am sure you saw nothing, or anybody else either."

"No, because when I saw the beginning of your manoeuvres, and guessed
what was coming, I stood in such a way that neither the Lambertini or
the pretty niece could see you.  I can guess what your goal was, and
I must say I admire your hearty appetite.  But your wretched victim
appears to be rather angry."

"Oh! my dear fellow, that's all the affectation of an old maid.  She
may pretend to be put out, but as she kept quiet the whole time I am
certain she would be glad to begin all over again."

"I think so, too, in her heart of hearts; but her pride might suggest
that you had been lacking in respect, and the suggestion would be by
no means groundless."

"Respect, you say; but must one not always be lacking in respect to
women when one wants to come to the point?"

"Quite so, but there's a distinction between what lovers may do when
they are together, and what is proper in the presence of a mixed
company."

"Yes, but I snatched four distinct favours from her, without the
least opposition; had I not therefore good reasons for taking her
consent for granted?"

"You reason well, but you see she is out of humour with you.  She
wants to speak to me to-morrow, and I have no doubt that you will be
the subject of our conversation."

"Possibly, but still I should think she would not speak to you of the
comic piece of business; it would be very silly of her."

"Why so?  You don't know these pious women.  They are brought up by
Jesuits, who often give them some good lessons on the subject, and
they are delighted to confess to a third party; and these confessions
with a seasoning of tears gives them in their own eyes quite a halo
of saintliness."

"Well, let her tell you if she likes.  We shall see what comes of
it."

"Possibly she may demand satisfaction; in which case I shall be glad
to do my best for her."

"You make me laugh!  I can't imagine what sort of satisfaction she
could claim, unless she wants to punish me by the 'Lex talionis',
which would be hardly practicable without a repetition of the
original offence.  If she had not liked the game, all she had to do
was to give me a push which would have sent me backwards."

"Yes, but that would have let us know what you had been trying to
do."

"Well, if it comes to that, the slightest movement would have
rendered the whole process null and void; but as it was she stood in
the proper position as quiet as a lamb; nothing could be easier."

"It's an amusing business altogether.  But did you notice that the
Lambertini was angry with you, too?  She, perhaps, saw what you were
doing, and felt hurt."

"Oh! she has got another cause of complaint against me.  We have
fallen out, and I am leaving her this evening."

"Really?"

"Yes, I will tell you all about it.  Yesterday evening, a young
fellow in the Inland Revenue who had been seduced to sup with us by a
hussy of Genoa, after losing forty louis, threw, the cards in the
face of my landlady and called her a thief.  On the impulse of the
moment I took a candle and put it out on his face.  I might have
destroyed one of his eyes, but I fortunately hit him on the cheek.
He immediately ran for his sword, mine was ready, and if the Genoese
had not thrown herself between us murder might have been committed.
When the poor wretch saw his cheek in the glass, he became so furious
that nothing short of the return of all his money would appease him.
They gave it him back, in spite of my advice, for in doing so they
admitted, tacitly at all events, that it had been won by cheating.
This caused a sharp dispute between the Lambertini and myself after
he had gone.  She said we should have kept the forty louis, and
nothing would have happened except for my interference, that it was
her and not me whom the young man had insulted.  The Genoese added
that if we had kept cool we should have had the plucking of him, but
that God alone knew what he would do now with the mark of the burn on
his face.  Tired of the talk of these infamous women, I was about to
leave them, but my landlady began to ride the high horse, and went so
far as to call me a beggar.

"If M. le Noir had not come in just then, she would have had a bad
time of it, as my stick was already in my hand.  As soon as they saw
him they told me to hold my tongue, but my blood was up; and turning
towards the worthy man I told him that his mistress had called me a
beggar, that she was a common prostitute, that I was not her cousin,
nor in any way related to her, and that I should leave her that very
day.  As soon as I had come to the end of this short and swift
discourse, I went out and shut myself up in my room.  In the course
of the next two hours I shall go and fetch my linen, and I hope to
breakfast with you to-morrow."

Tiretta did well.  His heart was in the right place, and he was wise
not to allow the foolish impulses of youth to plunge him in the sink
of corruption.  As long as a man has not committed a dishonourable
action, as long as his heart is sound, though his head may go astray,
the path of duty is still open to him.  I should say the same of
women if prejudice were not so strong in their case, and if they were
not much more under the influence of the heart than the head.

After a good dinner washed down by some delicious Sillery we parted,
and I spent the evening in writing.  Next morning I did some
business, and at noon went to see the distressed devotee, whom I
found at home with her charming niece.  We talked a few minutes about
the weather, and she then told my sweetheart to leave us as she
wanted to speak to me.  I was prepared for what was coming and I
waited for her to break the silence which all women of her position
observe.  "You will be surprised, sir, at what I am going to tell
you, for I have determined to bring before you a complaint of an
unheard-of character.  The case is really of the most delicate
nature, and I am impelled to make a confidant of you by the
impression you made on me when I first saw you.  I consider you to be
a man of discretion, of honour, and above all a moral man; in short,
I believe you have experienced religion, and if I am making a mistake
it will be a pity, for though I have been insulted I don't lack means
of avenging myself, and as you are his friend you will be sorry for
him."

"Is Tiretta the guilty party, madam?"

"The same."

"And what is his crime?"

"He is a villain; he has insulted me in the most monstrous manner."

"I should not have thought him capable of doing so."

"I daresay not, but then you are a moral man."

"But what was the nature of his offence?  You may confide in my
secrecy."

"I really couldn't tell you, it's quite out of the question; but I
trust you will be able to guess it.  Yesterday, during the execution
of the wretched Damien, he strongly abused the position in which he
found himself behind me."

"I see; I understand what you mean; you need say no more.  You have
cause for anger, and he is to blame for acting in such a manner.  But
allow me to say that the case is not unexampled or even uncommon, and
I think you might make some allowance for the strength of love, the
close quarters, and above all for the youth and passion of the
sinner.  Moreover, the offence is one which may be expiated in a
number of ways, provided the parties come to an agreement.  Tiretta
is young and a perfect gentleman, he is handsome and at bottom a good
fellow; could not a marriage be arranged?"

I waited for a reply, but perceiving that the injured party kept
silence (a circumstance which seemed to me a good omen) I went on.

"If marriage should not meet your views, we might try a lasting
friendship, in which he could shew his repentance and prove himself
deserving of pardon.  Remember, madam, that Tiretta is only a man,
and therefore subject to all the weaknesses of our poor human nature;
and even you have your share of the blame."

"I, sir?"

"Involuntarily, madam, involuntarily; not you but your charms led him
astray.  Nevertheless, without this incentive the circumstance would
never have taken place, and I think you should consider your beauty
as a mitigation of the offence."

"You plead your cause well, sir, but I will do you justice and
confess that all your remarks have been characterized by much
Christian feeling.  However, you are reasoning on false premises; you
are ignorant of his real crime, yet how should you guess it?"

With this she burst into tears, leading me completely off the scent,
and not knowing what to think.

"He can't have stolen her purse," said I to myself, "as I don't think
him capable of such an action; and if I did I'd blow his brains out."

The afflicted lady soon dried her tears, and went on as follows:

"You are thinking of a deed which one might possibly succeed in
reconciling with reason, and in making amends for; but the crime of
which that brute has been guilty I dare scarcely imagine, as it is
almost enough to drive me mad."

"Good heavens!  you can't mean it?   This is dreadful; do I hear you
aright?"

"Yes.  You are moved, I see, but such are the circumstances of the
case.  Pardon my tears, which flow from anger and the shame with
which I am covered."

"Yes, and from outraged religion, too."

"Certainly, certainly.  That is the chief source of my grief, and I
should have mentioned it if I had not feared you were not so strongly
attached to religion as myself."

"Nobody, God be praised! could be more strongly attached to religion
than I, and nothing can ever unloose the ties which bind me to it:"

"You will be grieved, then, to hear that I am destined to suffer
eternal punishment, for I must and will be avenged."

"Not so, madam, perish the thought, as I could not become your
accomplice in such a design, and if you will not abandon it at least
say nothing to me on the subject.  I will promise you to tell him
nothing, although as he lives with me the sacred laws of hospitality
oblige me to give him due warning."

"I thought he lived with the Lambertini"

"He left her yesterday.  The connection between them was a criminal
one, and I have drawn him back from the brink of the precipice."

"You don't mean to say so!"

"Yes, upon my word of honour:"

"You astonish one.  This is very edifying.  I don't wish the young
man's death, but you must confess he owes me some reparation."

"He does indeed.  A charming Frenchwoman is not to be handled in the
Italian manner without signal amends, but I can think of nothing at
all commensurate with the offence.  There is only one plan, which I
will endeavour to carry out if you will agree to it."

"What is that?"

"I will put the guilty party in your power without his knowing what
is to happen, and I will leave you alone, so that you can wreak all
your wrath upon him, provided you will allow me to be, unknown to
him, in the next room, as I shall regard myself as responsible for
his safety."

"I consent.  You will stay in this room, and he must be left in the
other where I shall receive you, but take care he has no suspicion of
your presence."

"He shan't dream of it.  He will not even know where I am taking him,
for he must not think that I have been informed of his misdoings.  As
soon as we be there, and the conversation becomes general, I shall
leave the room, pretending to be going away."

"When will you bring him?   I long to cover him with confusion.  I
will make him tremble.  I am curious to hear how he will justify
himself for such an offence."

"I can't say, but I think and hope that your presence will make him
eloquent, as I should like to see your differences adjusted."

At one o'clock the Abbe des Forges arrived, and she made me sit down
to dinner with them.  This abbe was a pupil of the famous Bishop of
Auxerre, who was still living.  I talked so well on the subject of
grace, and made so many quotations from St. Augustine, that the abbe
and the devotee took me for a zealous Jansenista character with which
my dress and appearance did not at all correspond.  My sweetheart did
not give me a single glance while the meal was going on, and thinking
she had some motives I abstained from speaking to her.

After dinner, which, by the way, was a very good one, I promised the
offended lady to bring her the culprit bound hand and foot next day,
after the play was over.  To put her at her ease I said I should
walk, as I was certain that he would not recognize the house in the
dark.

As soon as I saw Tiretta, I began with a seriocomic air to reproach
him for the dreadful crime he had committed on the body of a lady in
every way virtuous and respectable, but the mad fellow began to
laugh, and it would have been waste of time for me to try to stop
him.

"What!" said he, "she has had the courage to tell you all?"

"You don't deny the fact, then?"

"If she says it is so, I don't think I can give her the lie, but I am
ready to swear that I don't know how the land lay.  In the position I
was in it was impossible for me to say where I took up my dwelling.
However, I will quiet her indignation, as I shall come to the point
quickly, and not let her wait."

"You will ruin the business if you don't take care; be as long as you
can; she will like that best, and it will be to your interest.  Don't
hurry yourself, and never mind me, as I am sure to get on all right
while you are changing anger into a softer passion.  Remember not to
know that I am in the house, and if you only stay with her a short
time (which I don't think will be the case) take a coach and be off.
You know the least a pious woman like her can do will be to provide
me with fire and company.  Don't forget that she is well-born like
yourself.  These women of quality are, no doubt, as immoral as any
other women, since they are constructed of the same material, but
they like to have their pride flattered by certain attentions.  She
is rich, a devote, and, what is more, inclined to pleasure; strive to
gain her friendship 'faciem ad faciem', as the King of Prussia says.
You may, perhaps, make your fortune."

"If she asks you why you have left the Pope's niece, take care not to
tell her the reason.  She will be pleased with your discretion.  In
short, do your best to expiate the enormity of your offence."

"I have only to speak the truth.  I went in in the dark."

"That's an odd reason, but it may seem convincing to a Frenchwoman."

I need not tell the reader that I gave Tiretta a full account of my
conversation with the lady.  If any complain of this breach of
honour, I must tell them that I had made a mental reservation not to
keep my promise, and those who are acquainted with the morality of
the children of Ignatius will understand that I was completely at my
ease.

Next day we went to the opera, and afterwards, our plans made out, we
walked to the house of the insulted and virtuous lady.  She received
us with great dignity, but yet there was an agreeable undercurrent in
her voice and manner which I thought very promising.

"I never take supper," she said, "but if you had forewarned me of
your visit I should have got something for you:"

After telling her all the news I had heard in the theatre, I
pretended to be obliged to go, and begged her to let me leave the
count with her for a few minutes.

"If I am more than a quarter of an hour," said I to the count, "don't
wait.  Take a coach home and we shall see each other to-morrow."

Instead of going downstairs I went into the next room, and two
minutes after who should enter but my sweetheart, who looked charmed
and yet puzzled at my appearance.

"I think I must be dreaming," said she, "but my aunt has charged me
not to leave you alone, and to tell her woman not to come upstairs
unless she rings the bell.  Your friend is with her, and she told me
to speak low as he is not to know that you are here.  What does it
all mean?"

"You are curious, are you?"

"I confess I am in this instance, for all this mystery seems designed
to excite curiosity."

"Dearest, you shall know all; but how cold it is."

"My aunt has told me to make a good fire, she has become liberal or
rather lavish all of a sudden; look at the wax candles."

"That's a new thing, is it?"

"Oh, quite new."

As soon as we were seated in front of the fire I began to tell her
the story, to which she listened with all the attention a young girl
can give to such a matter; but as I had thought it well to pass over
some of the details, she could not properly understand what crime it
was that Tiretta had committed.  I was not sorry to be obliged to
tell her the story in plain language, and to give more expression I
employed the language of gesture, which made her blush and laugh at
the same time.  I then told her that, having taken up the question of
the reparation that was due to her aunt, I had so arranged matters
that I was certain of being alone with her all the time my friend was
engaged.  Thereupon I began to cover her pretty face with kisses, and
as I allowed myself no other liberties she received my caresses as a
proof of the greatness of my love and the purity of my feelings.

"Dearest," she said, "what you say puzzles me; there are two things
which I can't understand.  How could Tiretta succeed in committing
this crime with my aunt, which I think would only be possible with
the consent of the party attacked, but quite impossible without it;
and this makes me believe that if the thing was done it was done with
her hearty good will."

"Very true, for if she did not like it she had only to change her
position."

"Not so much as that; she need only have kept the door shut."

"There, sweetheart, you are wrong, for a properly-made man only asks
you to keep still and he will overcome all obstacles.  Moreover, I
don't expect that your aunt's door is so well shut as yours."

"I believe that I could defy all the Tirettas in the world.

"There's another thing I don't understand, and that is how my blessed
aunt came to tell you all about it; for if she had any sense she
might have known that it would only make you laugh.  And what
satisfaction does she expect to get from a brute like that, who
possibly thinks the affair a matter of no consequence.  I should
think he would do the same to any woman who occupied the same
position as my aunt."

"You are right, for he told me he went in like a blind man, not
knowing where he was going."

"Your friend is a queer fellow, and if other men are like him I am
sure I should have no feeling but contempt for them."

"She has told me nothing about the satisfaction she is thinking of,
and which she possibly feels quite sure of attaining; but I think I
can guess what it will benamely, a formal declaration of love; and I
suppose he will expiate his crime by becoming her lover, and
doubtless this will be their wedding night."

"The affair is getting amusing.  I can't believe it.  My dear aunt is
too anxious about her salvation; and how do you imagine the young man
can ever fall in love with her, or play the part with such a face as
hers before his eyes.  Have you ever seen a countenance as disgusting
as my aunt's?   Her skin is covered with pimples, her eyes distil
humours, and her teeth and breath are enough to discourage any man.
She's hideous."

"All that is nothing to a young spark of twenty-five; one is always
ready for an assault at that age; not like me who only feel myself a
man in presence of charms like yours, of which I long to be the
lawful possessor."

"You will find me the most affectionate of wives, and I feel quite
sure that I shall have your heart in such good keeping that I shall
never be afraid of losing it."

We had talked thus pleasantly for an hour, and Tiretta was still with
the aunt.  I thought things pointed towards a reconciliation, and
judged the matter was getting serious.  I told my sweetheart my
opinion, and asked her to give me something to eat.

"I can only give you," said she, "some bread and cheese, a slice of
ham, and some wine which my aunt pronounces excellent."

"Bring them quick, then; I am fainting with hunger."

She soon laid the table for two, and put on it all the food she had.
The cheese was Roquefort, and the ham had been covered with jelly.
About ten persons with reasonable appetites should have been able to
sup on what there was; but (how I know not) the whole disappeared,
and also two bottles of Chambertin, which I seem to taste now.  My
sweetheart's eyes gleamed with pleasure: truly Chambertin and
Roquefort are excellent thinks to restore an old love and to ripen a
young one.

"Don't you want to know what your aunt has been doing the last two
hours with M. Sixtimes?"

"They are playing, perhaps; but there is a small hole in the wall,
and I will look and see.  I can only see the two candles, and the
wicks are an inch long."

"Didn't I say so?   Give me a coverlet and I will sleep on the sofa
here, and do you go to bed.  But let me look at it first:"

She made me come into her little room, where I saw a pretty bed, a
prayer desk, and a large crucifix.

"Your bed is too small for you, dear heart."

"Oh, not at all!  I am very comfortable"; and so saying she laid down
at full length.

"What a beautiful wife I shall have!  Nay, don't move, let me look at
you so."  My hand began to press the bosom of her dress, where were
imprisoned two spheres which seemed to lament their captivity.  I
went farther, I began to untie strings .  .  .  for where does desire
stop short?

"Sweetheart, I cannot resist, but you will not love me afterwards."

"I will always love you:"

Soon her beautiful breasts were exposed to my burning kisses.  The
flame of my love lit another in her heart, and forgetting her former
self she opened her arms to me, making me promise not to despise her,
and what would one not promise!  The modesty inherent in the sex, the
fear of results, perhaps a kind of instinct which reveals to them the
natural faithlessness of men make women ask for such promises, but
what mistress, if really amorous, would even think of asking her
lover to respect her in the moment of delirious ecstacy, when all
one's being is centred on the fulfilment of desire?

After we had passed an hour in these amorous toyings, which set my
sweetheart on fire, her charms having never before been exposed to
the burning lips or the free caresses of a man, I said to her,

"I grieve to leave you without having rendered to your beauty the
greatest homage which it deserves so well."

A sigh was her only answer.

It was cold, the fire was out, and I had to spend the night on the
sofa.

"Give me a coverlet, dearest, that I may go away from you, for I
should die here between love and cold if you made me abstain."

"Lie where I have been, sweetheart.  I will get up and rekindle the
fire."

She got up in all her naked charms, and as she put a stick to the
fire the flame leapt up; I rose, I found her standing so as to
display all her beauties, and I could refrain no longer.  I pressed
her to my heart, she returned my caresses, and till day-break we gave
ourselves up to an ecstacy of pleasure.

We had spent four or five delicious hours on the sofa.  She then left
me, and after making a good fire she went to her room, and I remained
on the sofa and slept till noon.  I was awakened by Madame, who wore
a graceful undress.

"Still asleep, M. Casanova?"

"Ah! good morning, madam, good morning.  And what has become of my
friend?"

"He has become mine, I have forgiven him."

"What has he done to be worthy of so generous a pardon?"

"He proved to me that he made a mistake."

"I am delighted to hear it; where is he?"

"He has gone home, where you will find him; but don't say anything
about your spending the night here, or he will think it was spent
with my niece.  I am very much obliged to you for what you have done,
and I have only to ask you to be discreet."

"You can count on me entirely, for I am grateful to you for having
forgiven my friend."

"Who would not do so?   The dear young man is something more than
mortal.  If you knew how he loved me!  I am grateful to him, and I
have taken him to board for a year; he will be well lodged, well fed,
and so on."

"What a delightful plan!  You have arranged the terms, I suppose."

"All that will be settled in a friendly way, and we shall not need to
have recourse to arbitration.  We shall set out to-day for Villette,
where I have a nice little house; for you know that it is necessary,
at first, to act in such a way as to give no opportunity to
slanderers.  My lover will have all he wants, and whenever you, sir,
honour us with your presence you will find a pretty room and a good
bed at your disposal.  All I am sorry for is that you will find it
tedious; my poor niece is so dull."

"Madam, your niece is delightful; she gave me yesterday evening an
excellent supper and kept me company till three o'clock this
morning."

"Really?  I can't make it out how she gave you anything, as there was
nothing in the house."

"At any rate, madam, she gave me an excellent supper, of which there
are no remains, and after keeping me company she went to bed, and I
have had a good night on this comfortable sofa."

"I am glad that you, like myself, were pleased with everything, but I
did not think my niece so clever."

"She is very clever, madam--in my eyes, at all events:"

"Oh, sir!  you are a judge of wit, let us go and see her.  She has
locked her door.  Come open the door, why have you shut yourself up,
you little prude?  what are you afraid of.  My Casanova is incapable
of hurting you."

The niece opened her door and apologized for the disorder of her
dress, but what costume could have suited her better?  Her costume
was dazzling."

"There she is," said the aunt, "and she is not so bad looking after
all, but it is a pity she is so stupid.  You were very right to give
this gentleman a supper.  I am much obliged to you for doing so.
I have been playing all night, and when one is playing one only
thinks of the game.  I have determined on taking young Tiretta to
board with us.  He is an excellent and clever young man, and I am
sure he will learn to speak French before long.  Get dressed, my
dear, as we must begin to pack.  We shall set out this afternoon for
Villette, and shall spend there the whole of the spring.  There is no
need, you know, to say anything about this to my sister:"

"I, aunt?   Certainly not.  Did I ever tell her anything on the other
occasions?"

"Other occasions!  You see what a silly girl it is.  Do you mean by
'other occasions,' that I have been circumstanced like this before?"

"No, aunt.  I only meant to say that I had never told her anything of
what you did."

"That's right, my dear, but you must learn to express yourself
properly.  We dine at two, and I hope to have the pleasure of M.
Casanova's company at dinner; we will start immediately after the
meal.  Tiretta promised to bring his small portmanteau with him, and
it will go with our luggage."

After promising to dine with them, I bade the ladies good-bye; and I
went home as fast as I could walk, for I was as curious as a woman to
know what arrangements had been made.

"Well," said I to Tiretta, "I find you have got a place.  Tell me all
about it"

"My dear fellow, I have sold myself for a year.  My pay is to be
twenty-five louis a month, a good table, good lodging, etc., etc."

"I congratulate you."

"Do you think it is worth the trouble?"

"There's no rose without a thorn.  She told me you were something
more than mortal."

"I worked hard all night to prove it to her; but I am quite sure your
time was better employed than mine."

"I slept like a king.  Dress yourself, as I am coming to dinner, and
I want to see you set out for Villette.  I shall come and see you
there now and then, as your sweetheart has told me that a room shall
be set apart for my convenience."

We arrived at two o'clock.  Madame dressed in a girlish style
presented a singular appearance, but Mdlle. de la Meure's beauty
shone like a star.  Love and pleasure had given her a new life, a new
being.  We had a capital dinner, as the good lady had made the repast
dainty like herself; but in the dishes there was nothing absurd,
while her whole appearance was comic in the highest degree.  At four
they all set out, and I spent my evening at the Italian comedy.

I was in love with Mdlle. de la Meure, but Silvia's daughter, whose
company at supper was all I had of her, weakened a love which now
left nothing more to desire.

We complain of women who, though loving us and sure of our love,
refuse us their favours; but we are wrong in doing so, for if they
love they have good reason to fear lest they lose us in the moment of
satisfying our desires.  Naturally they should do all in their power
to retain our hearts, and the best way to do so is to cherish our
desire of possessing them; but desire is only kept alive by being
denied: enjoyment kills it, since one cannot desire what one has got.
I am, therefore, of opinion that women are quite right to refuse us.
But if it be granted that the passions of the two sexes are of equal
strength, how comes it that a man never refuses to gratify a woman
who loves him and entreats him to be kind?

We cannot receive the argument founded on the fear of results, as
that is a particular and not a general consideration.  Our
conclusion, then, will be that the reason lies in the fact that a man
thinks more of the pleasure he imparts than that which he receives,
and is therefore eager to impart his bliss to another.  We know,
also, that, as a general rule, women, when once enjoyed, double their
love and affection.  On the other hand, women think more of the
pleasure they receive than of that which they impart, and therefore
put off enjoyment as long as possible, since they fear that in giving
themselves up they lose their chief good--their own pleasure.  This
feeling is peculiar to the sex, and is the only cause of coquetry,
pardonable in a woman, detestable in a man.

Silvia's daughter loved me, and she knew I loved her, although I had
never said so, but women's wit is keen.  At the same time she
endeavoured not to let me know her feelings, as she was afraid of
encouraging me to ask favours of her, and she did not feel sure of
her strength to refuse them; and she knew my inconstant nature.  Her
relations intended her for Clement, who had been teaching her the
clavichord for the last three years.  She knew of the arrangement and
had no objection, for though she did not love him she liked him very
well.  Most girls are wedded without love, and they are not sorry for
it afterwards.  They know that by marriage they become of some
consequence in the world, and they marry to have a house of their own
and a good position in society.  They seem to know that a husband and
a lover need not be synonymous terms.  At Paris men are actuated by
the same views, and most marriages are matters of convenience.  The
French are jealous of their mistresses, but never of their wives.

There could be no doubt that M. Clement was very much in love, and
Mdlle. Baletti was delighted that I noticed it, as she thought this
would bring me to a declaration, and she was quite right.  The
departure of Mdlle. de la Meure had a good deal to do with my
determination to declare myself; and I was very sorry to have done so
afterwards, for after I had told her I loved her Clement was
dismissed, and my position was worse than before.  The man who
declares his love for a woman in words wants to be sent to school
again.

Three days after the departure of Tiretta, I took him what small
belongings he had, and Madame seemed very glad to see me.  The Abbe
des Forges arrived just as we were sitting down to dinner, and though
he had been very friendly to me at Paris he did not so much as look
at me all through the meal, and treated Tiretta in the same way.
I, for my part, took no notice of him, but Tiretta, not so patient as
I, at last lost his temper and got up, begging Madame to tell him
when she was going to have that fellow to dine with her.  We rose
from table without saying a word, and the silent abbe went with madam
into another room.

Tiretta took me to see his room, which was handsomely furnished, and,
as was right, adjoined his sweetheart's.  Whilst he was putting his
things in order, Mdlle. de la Meure made me come and see my
apartment.  It was a very nice room on the ground floor, and facing
hers.  I took care to point out to her how easily I could pay her a
visit after everyone was in bed, but she said we should not be
comfortable in her room, and that she would consequently save me the
trouble of getting out of bed.  It will be guessed that I had no
objections to make to this arrangement.

She then told me of her aunt's folly about Tiretta.

"She believes," said she, "that we do not know he sleeps with her."

"Believes, or pretends to believe."

"Possibly.  She rang for me at eleven o'clock this morning and told
me to go and ask him what kind of night he had passed.  I did so, but
seeing his bed had not been slept in I asked him if he had not been
to sleep.

"'No,' said he, 'I have been writing all night, but please don't say
anything about it to your aunt: I promised with all my heart to be as
silent as the grave."

"Does he make sheep's eyes at you?"

"No, but if he did it would be all the same.  Though he is not over
sharp he knows, I think, what I think of him."

"Why have you such a poor opinion of him?"

"Why?  My aunt pays him.  I think selling one's self is a dreadful
idea."

"But you pay me."

"Yes, but in the same coin as you give me."

The old aunt was always calling her niece stupid, but on the contrary
I thought her very clever, and as virtuous as clever.  I should never
have seduced her if she had not been brought up in a convent.

I went back to Tiretta, and had some pleasant conversation with him.
I asked him how he liked his place.

"I don't like it much, but as it costs me nothing I am not absolutely
wretched."

"But her face!"

"I don't look at it, and there's one thing I like about her--she is
so clean."

"Does she take good care of you?"

"O yes, she is full of feeling for me.  This morning she refused the
greeting I offered her.  'I am sure,' said she, 'that my refusal will
pain you, but your health is so dear to me that I feel bound to look
after it."

As soon as the gloomy Abbe des Forges was gone and Madame was alone,
we rejoined her.  She treated me as her gossip, and played the timid
child for Tiretta's benefit, and he played up to her admirably, much
to my admiration.

"I shall see no more of that foolish priest," said she; "for after
telling me that I was lost both in this world and the next he
threatened to abandon me, and I took him at his word."

An actress named Quinault, who had left the stage and lived close by,
came to call, and soon after Madame Favart and the Abbe de Voisenon
arrived, followed by Madame Amelin with a handsome lad named Calabre,
whom she called her nephew.  He was as like her as two peas, but she
did not seem to think that a sufficient reason for confessing she was
his mother.  M. Patron, a Piedmontese, who also came with her, made a
bank at faro and in a couple of hours won everybody's money with the
exception of mine, as I knew better than to play.  My time was better
occupied in the company of my sweet mistress.  I saw through the
Piedmontese, and had put him down as a knave; but Tiretta was not so
sharp, and consequently lost all the money he had in his pockets and
a hundred louis besides.  The banker having reaped a good harvest put
down the cards, and Tiretta told him in good Italian that he was a
cheat, to which the Piedmontese replied with the greatest coolness
that he lied.  Thinking that the quarrel might have an unpleasant
ending, I told him that Tiretta was only jesting, and I made my
friend say so, too.  He then left the company and went to his room.

Eight years afterwards I saw this Patron at St. Petersburg, and in
the year 1767 he was assassinated in Poland.

The same evening I preached Tiretta a severe yet friendly sermon.
I pointed out to him that when he played he was at the mercy of the
banker, who might be a rogue but a man of courage too, and so in
calling him a cheat he was risking his life.

"Am I to let myself be robbed, then?"

"Yes, you have a free choice in the matter; nobody will make you
play."

"I certainly will not pay him that hundred louis."

"I advise you to do so, and to do so before you are asked."

"You have a knack of persuading one to do what you will, even though
one be disposed to take no notice of your advice."

"That's because I speak from heart and head at once, and have some
experience in these affairs as well."

Three quarters of an hour afterwards I went to bed and my mistress
came to me before long.  We spent a sweeter night than before, for it
is often a matter of some difficulty to pluck the first flower; and
the price which most men put on this little trifle is founded more on
egotism than any feeling of pleasure.

Next day, after dining with the family and admiring the roses on my
sweetheart's cheeks, I returned to Paris.  Three or four days later
Tiretta came to tell me that the Dunkirk merchant had arrived, that
he was coming to dine at Madame's, and that she requested me to make
one of the party.  I was prepared for the news, but the blood rushed
into my face.  Tiretta saw it, and to a certain extent divined my
feelings.  "You are in love with the niece," said he.

"Why do you think so?"

"By the mystery you make about her; but love betrays itself even by
its silence."

"You are a knowing fellow, Tiretta.  I will come to dinner, but don't
say a word to anybody."

My heart was rent in twain.  Possibly if the merchant had put off his
arrival for a month I should have welcomed it; but to have only just
lifted the nectar to my lips, and to see the precious vessel escape
from my hands!  To this day I can recall my feelings, and the very
recollection is not devoid of bitterness.

I was in a fearful state of perplexity, as I always was whenever it
was necessary for me to resolve, and I felt that I could not do so.
If the reader has been placed in the same position he will understand
my feelings.  I could not make up my mind to consent to her marrying,
nor could I resolve to wed her myself and gain certain happiness.

I went to Villette and was a little surprised to find Mdlle. de la
Meure more elaborately dressed than usual.

"Your intended," I said, "would have pronounced you charming without
all that."

"My aunt doesn't think so"

"You have not seen him yet?"

"No, but I should like to, although I trust with your help never to
become his wife."

Soon after, she arrived with Corneman, the banker, who had been the
agent in this business transaction.  The merchant was a fine man,
about forty, with a frank and open face.  His dress was good though
not elaborate.  He introduced himself simply but in a polite manner
to Madame, and he did not look at his future wife till the aunt
presented her to him.  His manner immediately became more pleasing;
and without making use of flowers of speech he said in a very feeling
way that he trusted the impression he had made on her was equal to
that which she had made on him.  Her only answer was a low curtsy,
but she studied him carefully.

Dinner was served, and in the course of the meal we talked of almost
everything--except marriage.  The happy pair only caught each other's
eyes by chance, and did not speak to one another.  After dinner
Mdlle. de la Meure went to her room, and the aunt went into her
closet with the banker and the merchant, and they were in close
conversation for two hours.  At the end of that time the gentlemen
were obliged to return to Paris, and Madame, after summoning her
niece, told the merchant she would expect him to dinner on the day
following, and that she was sure that her niece would be glad to see
him again.

"Won't you, my dear?"

"Yes, aunt, I shall be very glad to see the gentleman again."

If she had not answered thus, the merchant would have gone away
without hearing his future bride speak.

"Well," said the aunt, "what do you think of your husband?"

"Allow me to put off my answer till to-morrow; but be good enough,
when we are at table, to draw me into the conversation, for it is
very possible that my face has not repelled him, but so far he knows
nothing of my mental powers; possibly my want of wit may destroy any
slight impression my face may have made."

"Yes, I am afraid you will begin to talk nonsense, and make him lose
the good opinion he seems to have formed of you."

"It is not right to deceive anybody.  If he is disabused of his
fictitious ideas by the appearance of the truth, so much the better
for him; and so much the worse for both of us, if we decide on
marrying without the slightest knowledge of each other's habits and
ways of thought."

"What do you think of him?"

"I think he is rather nice-looking, and his manners are kind and
polite; but let us wait till to-morrow."

"Perhaps he will have nothing more to say to me; I am so stupid."

"I know very well that you think yourself very clever, and that's
where your fault lies; it's your self-conceit which makes you stupid,
although M. Casanova takes you for a wit."

"Perhaps he may know what he is talking about."

"My poor dear, he is only laughing at you."

"I have good reasons for thinking otherwise, aunt."

"There you go; you will never get any sense."

"Pardon me, madam, if I cannot be of your opinion.  Mademoiselle is
quite right in saying that I do not laugh at her.  I dare to say that
to-morrow she will shine in the conversation."

"You think so?  I am glad to hear it.  Now let us have a game at
piquet, and I will play against you and my niece, for she must learn
the game."

Tiretta asked leave of his darling to go to the play, and we played
on till supper-time.  On his return, Tiretta made us almost die of
laughing with his attempts to tell us in his broken French the plot
of the play he had seen.

I had been in my bedroom for a quarter of an hour, expecting to see
my sweetheart in some pretty kind of undress, when all of a sudden I
saw her come in with all her clothes on.  I was surprised at this
circumstance, and it seemed to me of evil omen.

"You are astonished to see me thus," said she, "but I want to speak
to you for a moment, and then I will take off my clothes.  Tell me
plainly whether I am to consent to this marriage or no?"

"How do you like him?"

"Fairly well."

"Consent, then!"

"Very good; farewell!  From this moment our love ends, and our
friendship begins.  Get you to bed, and I will go and do the same.
Farewell!"

"No, stay, and let our friendship begin to-morrow."

"Not so, were my refusal to cost the lives of both of us.  You know
what it must cost me to speak thus, but it is my irrevocable
determination.  If I am to become another's wife, I must take care to
be worthy of him; perhaps I may be happy.  Do not hold me, let me go.
You know how well I love you."

"At least, let us have one final embrace."

"Alas! no."

"You are weeping."

"No, I am not.  In God's name let me go."

"Dear heart, you go but to weep in your chamber; stay here.  I will
marry you."

"Nay, no more of that."

With these words she made an effort, escaped from my hands, and fled
from the room.  I was covered with shame and regret, and could not
sleep.  I hated myself, for I knew not whether I had sinned most
grievously in seducing her or in abandoning her to another.

I stayed to dinner next day in spite of my heartbreak and my sadness.
Mdlle. de la Meure talked so brilliantly and sensibly to her intended
that one could easily see he was enchanted with her.  As for me,
feeling that I had nothing pleasant to say, I pretended to have the
toothache as an excuse for not talking.  Sick at heart, absent-
minded, and feeling the effects of a sleepless night, I was well-nigh
mad with love, jealousy, and despair.  Mdlle. de la Meure did not
speak to me once, did not so much as look at me.  She was quite
right, but I did not think so then.  I thought the dinner would never
come to an end, and I do not think I was ever present at so painful a
meal.

As we rose from the table, Madame went into her closet with her niece
and nephew that was to be, and the niece came out in the course of an
hour and bade us congratulate her, as she was to be married in a
week, and after the wedding she would accompany her husband to
Dunkirk.  "To-morrow," she added, "we are all to dine with M.
Corneman, where the deed of settlement will be signed."

I cannot imagine how it was I did not fall dead on the spot.  My
anguish cannot be expressed.

Before long it was proposed that we should go to the play, but
excusing myself on the plea of business I returned to Paris.  As I
got to my door I seemed to be in a fever, and I lay down on my bed,
but instead of the rest I needed I experienced only remorse and
fruitless repentance-the torments of the damned.  I began to think it
was my duty to stop the marriage or die.  I was sure that Mdlle. de
la Meure loved me, and I fancied she would not say no if I told her
that her refusal to marry me would cost me my life.  Full of that
idea I rose and wrote her a letter, strong with all the strength of
tumultuous passion.  This was some relief, and getting into bed I
slept till morning.  As soon as I was awake I summoned a messenger
and promised him twelve francs if he would deliver my letter, and
report its receipt in an hour and a half.  My letter was under cover
of a note addressed to Tiretta, in which I told him that I should not
leave the house till I had got an answer.  I had my answer four hours
after; it ran as follows: "Dearest, it is too late; you have decided
on my destiny, and I cannot go back from my word.  Come to dinner at
M. Corneman's, and be sure that in a few weeks we shall be
congratulating ourselves on having won a great victory.  Our love,
crowned all too soon, will soon live only in our memories.  I beg of
you to write to me no more."

Such was my fate.  Her refusal, with the still more cruel charge not
to write to her again, made me furious.  In it I only saw
inconstancy.  I thought she had fallen in love with the merchant.  My
state of mind may be judged from the fact that I determined to kill
my rival.  The most savage plans, the most cruel designs, ran a race
through my bewildered brain.  I was jealous, in love, a different
being from my ordinary self; anger, vanity, and shame had destroyed
my powers of reasoning.  The charming girl whom I was forced to
admire, whom I should have esteemed all the more for the course she
had taken, whom I had regarded as an angel, became in my eyes a
hateful monster, a meet object for punishment.  At last I determined
on a sure method of revenge, which I knew to be both dishonourable
and cowardly, but in my blind passion I did not hesitate for a
moment.  I resolved to go to the merchant at M. Corneman's, where he
was staying, to tell him all that had passed between the lady and
myself, and if that did not make him renounce the idea of marrying
her I would tell him that one of us must die, and if he refused my
challenge I determined to assassinate him.

With this terrible plan in my brain, which makes me shudder now when
I think of it, I ate with the appetite of a wild beast, lay down and
slept till day.  I was in the same mind when I awoke, and dressed
myself hastily yet carefully, put two good pistols in my pocket and
went to M. Corneman's.  My rival was still asleep; I waited for him,
and for a quarter of an hour my thoughts only grew more bitter and my
determination more fixed.  All at once he came into the room, in his
dressing-gown, and received me with open arms, telling me in the
kindest of voices that he had been expecting me to call, as he could
guess what feelings I, a friend of his future wife's, could have for
him, and saying that his friendship for me should always be as warm
as hers.  His honest open face, his straightforward words,
overwhelmed me, and I was silent for a few minutes--in fact I did not
know what to say.  Luckily he gave me enough time to recollect
myself, as he talked on for a quarter of an hour without noticing
that I did not open my lips.

M. Corneman then came in; coffee was served, and my speech returned
to me; but I am happy to say I refrained from playing the
dishonourable part I had intended; the crisis was passed.

It may be remarked that the fiercest spirits are like a cord
stretched too tight, which either breaks or relaxes.  I have known
several persons of that temperament--the Chevalier L----, amongst
others, who in a fit of passion used to feel his soul escaping by
every pore.  If at the moment when his anger burst forth he was able
to break something and make a great noise, he calmed down in a
moment; reason resumed her sway, and the raging lion became as mild
as a lamb.

After I had taken a cup of coffee, I felt myself calmed but yet dizzy
in the head, so I bade them good morning and went out.  I was
astonished but delighted that I had not carried my detestable scheme
into effect.  I was humbled by being forced to confess to myself that
chance and chance alone had saved me from becoming a villain.  As I
was reflecting on what had happened I met my brother, and he
completed my cure.  I took him to dine at Silvia's and stayed there
till midnight.  I saw that Mdlle. Baletti would make me forget the
fair inconstant, whom I wisely determined not to see again before the
wedding.  To make sure I set out the next day for Versailles, to look
after my interests with the Government.




CHAPTER II

The Abby de la Ville--The Abby Galiani--The Neapolitan Dialect--I Set
Out for Dunkirk on a Secret Mission I Succeed--I Return to Paris by
Amiens--My Adventure by the Way--M. de la Bretonniere--My Report
Gives Satisfaction--I Am Paid Five Hundred Louis--Reflections.


A new career was opening before me.  Fortune was still my friend, and
I had all the necessary qualities to second the efforts of the blind
goddess on my behalf save one--perseverance.  My immoderate life of
pleasure annulled the effect of all my other qualities.

M. de Bernis received me in his usual manner, that is more like a
friend than a minister.  He asked me if I had any inclination for a
secret mission.

"Have I the necessary talents?"

"I think so."

"I have an inclination for all honest means of earning a livelihood,
and as for my talents I will take your excellency's opinion for
granted."

This last observation made him smile, as I had intended.

After a few words spoken at random on the memories of bygone years
which time had not entirely defaced, the minister told me to go to
the Abbe de la Ville and use his name.

This abbe, the chief permanent official of the foreign office, was a
man of cold temperament, a profound diplomatist, and the soul of the
department, and high in favour with his excellency the minister.  He
had served the state well as an agent at The Hague, and his grateful
king rewarded him by giving him a bishopric on the day of his death.
It was a little late, but kings have not always sufficient leisure to
remember things.  His heir was a wealthy man named Gamier, who had
formerly been chief cook at M. d'Argenson's, and had become rich by
profiting by the friendship the Abbe de la Ville had always had for
him.  These two friends, who were nearly of the same age, had
deposited their wills in the hands of the same attorney, and each had
made the other his residuary legatee.

After the abbe had delivered a brief discourse on the nature of
secret missions and the discretion necessary to those charged with
them, he told me that he would let me know when anything suitable for
me presented itself.

I made the acquaintance of the Abbe Galiani, the secretary of the
Neapolitan Embassy.  He was a brother to the Marquis de Galiani, of
whom I shall speak when we come to my Italian travels.  The Abbe
Galiani was a man of wit.  He had a knack of making the most serious
subjects appear comic; and being a good talker, speaking French with
the ineradicable Neapolitan accent, he was a favourite in every
circle he cared to enter.  The Abbe de la Ville told him that
Voltaire had complained that his Henriade had been translated into
Neapolitan verse in such sort that it excited laughter.

"Voltaire is wrong," said Galiani, "for the Neapolitan dialect is of
such a nature that it is impossible to write verses in it that are
not laughable.  And why should he be vexed; he who makes people laugh
is sure of being beloved.  The Neapolitan dialect is truly a singular
one; we have it in translations of the Bible and of the Iliad, and
both are comic."

"I can imagine that the Bible would be, but I should not have thought
that would have been the case with the Iliad."

"It is, nevertheless."

I did not return to Paris till the day before the departure of Mdlle.
de la Meure, now Madame P----.  I felt in duty bound to go and see
her, to give her my congratulations, and to wish her a pleasant
journey.  I found her in good spirits and quite at her ease, and, far
from being vexed at this, I was pleased, a certain sign that I was
cured.  We talked without the slightest constraint, and I thought her
husband a perfect gentleman.  He invited us to visit him at Dunkirk,
and I promised to go without intending to do so, but the fates willed
otherwise.

Tiretta was now left alone with his darling, who grew more infatuated
with her Strephon every day, so well did he prove his love for her.

With a mind at ease, I now set myself to sentimentalize with Mdlle.
Baletti, who gave me every day some new mark of the progress I was
making.

The friendship and respect I bore her family made the idea of
seduction out of the question, but as I grew more and more in love
with her, and had no thoughts of marriage, I should have been puzzled
to say at what end I was aiming, so I let myself glide along the
stream without thinking where I was going.

In the beginning of May the Abbe de Bernis told me to come and call
on him at Versailles, but first to see the Abbe de la Ville.  The
first question the abbe asked me was whether I thought myself capable
of paying a visit to eight or ten men-of-war in the roads at Dunkirk,
of making the acquaintance of the officers, and of completing a
minute and circumstantial report on the victualling, the number of
seamen, the guns, ammunition, discipline, etc., etc.

"I will make the attempt," I said, "and will hand you in my report on
my return, and it will be for you to say if I have succeeded or not."

"As this is a secret mission, I cannot give you a letter of
commendation; I can only give you some money and wish you a pleasant
journey."

"I do not wish to be paid in advance--on my return you can give me
what you think fit.  I shall want three or four days before setting
out, as I must procure some letters of introduction."

"Very good.  Try to come back before the end of the month.  I have no
further instructions to give you."

On the same day I had some conversation at the Palais Bourbon with my
patron, who could not admire sufficiently my delicacy in refusing
payment in advance; and taking advantage of my having done so he made
me accept a packet of a hundred Louis.  This was the last occasion on
which I made use of his purse; I did not borrow from him at Rome
fourteen years afterwards.

"As you are on a secret mission, my dear Casanova, I cannot give you
a passport.  I am sorry for it, but if I did so your object would be
suspected.  However, you will easily be able to get one from the
first gentleman of the chamber, on some pretext or other.  Silvia
will be more useful to you in that way than anybody else.  You quite
understand how discreet your behaviour must be.  Above all, do not
get into any trouble; for I suppose you know that, if anything
happened to you, it would be of no use to talk of your mission.  We
should be obliged to know nothing about you, for ambassadors are the
only avowed spies.  Remember that you must be even more careful and
reserved than they, and yet, if you wish to succeed, all this must be
concealed, and you must have an air of freedom from constraint that
you may inspire confidence.  If, on your return, you like to shew me
your report before handing it in, I will tell you what may require to
be left out or added."

Full of this affair, the importance of which I exaggerated in
proportion to my inexperience, I told Silvia that I wanted to
accompany some English friends as far as Calais, and that she would
oblige me by getting me a passport from the Duc de Gesvres.  Always
ready to oblige me, she sat down directly and wrote the duke a
letter, telling me to deliver it myself since my personal description
was necessary.  These passports carry legal weight in the Isle de
France only, but they procure one respect in all the northern parts
of the kingdom.

Fortified with Silvia's letter, and accompanied by her husband, I
went to the duke who was at his estate at St. Toro, and he had
scarcely read the letter through before he gave me the passport.
Satisfied on this point I went to Villette, and asked Madame if she
had anything I could take to her niece.  "You can take her the box of
china statuettes," said she, "if M. Corneman has not sent them
already."  I called on the banker who gave me the box, and in return
for a hundred Louis a letter of credit on a Dunkirk house.  I begged
him to name me in the letter in a special manner, as I was going for
the sake of pleasure.  He seemed glad to oblige me, and I started the
same evening, and three days later I was at the "Hotel de la
Conciergerie," in Dunkirk.

An hour after my arrival I gave the charming Madame P---- an
agreeable surprise by handing her the box, and giving her her aunt's
messages.  Just as she was praising her husband, and telling me how
happy she was, he came in, saying he was delighted to see me and
asked me to stay in his house, without enquiring whether my stay in
Dunkirk would be a long or short one.  I of course thanked him, and
after promising to dine now and again at his house I begged him to
take me to the banker on whom I had a letter.

The banker read my letter, and gave me the hundred louis, and asked
me to wait for him at my inn where he would come for me with the
governor, a M. de Barail.  This gentleman who, like most Frenchmen,
was very polite, after making some ordinary enquiries, asked me to
sup with him and his wife who was still at the play.  The lady gave
me as kind a reception as I had received from her husband.  After we
had partaken of an excellent supper several persons arrived, and play
commenced in which I did not join, as I wished to study the society
of the place, and above all certain officers of both services who
were present.  By means of speaking with an air of authority about
naval matters, and by saying that I had served in the navy of the
Venetian Republic, in three days I not only knew but was intimate
with all the captains of the Dunkirk fleet.  I talked at random about
naval architecture, on the Venetian system of manoeuvres, and I
noticed that the jolly sailors were better pleased at my blunders
than at my sensible remarks.

Four days after I had been at Dunkirk, one of the captains asked me
to dinner on his ship, and after that all the others did the same;
and on every occasion I stayed in the ship for the rest of the day.
I was curious about everything--and Jack is so trustful!  I went into
the hold, I asked questions innumerable, and I found plenty of young
officers delighted to shew their own importance, who gossipped
without needing any encouragement from me.  I took care, however, to
learn everything which would be of service to me, and in the evenings
I put down on paper all the mental notes I had made during the day.
Four or five hours was all I allowed myself for sleep, and in fifteen
days I had learnt enough.

Pleasure, gaming, and idleness--my usual companions--had no part in
this expedition, and I devoted all my energies to the object of my
mission.  I dined once with the banker, once with Madame P----, in
the town, and once in a pretty country house which her husband had,
at about a league's distance from Dunkirk.  She took me there
herself, and on finding myself alone with the woman I had loved so
well I delighted her by the delicacy of my behaviour, which was
marked only by respect and friendship.  As I still thought her
charming, and as our connection had only ended six weeks ago, I was
astonished to see myself so quiet, knowing my disposition too well to
attribute my restraint to virtue.  What, then, was the reason?   An
Italian proverb, speaking for nature, gives the true solution of the
riddle.

'La Mona non vuol pensieri', and my head was full of thought.

My task was done, and bidding good-bye to all my friends, I set out
in my post-chaise for Paris, going by another way for the sake of the
change.  About midnight, on my asking for horses at some stage, the
name of which I forget, they told me that the next stage was the
fortified town of Aire, which we should not be allowed to pass
through at midnight.

"Get me the horses," said I, "I will make them open the gates."

I was obeyed, and in due time we reached the gates.

The postillion cracked his whip and the sentry called out, "Who goes
there?"

"Express messenger."

After making me wait for an hour the gate was opened, and I was told
that I must go and speak to the governor.  I did so, fretting and
fuming on my way as if I were some great person, and I was taken to a
room where a man in an elegant nightcap was lying beside a very
pretty woman.

"Whose messenger are you?"

"Nobody's, but as I am in a hurry."

"That will do.  We will talk the matter over tomorrow.  In the
meanwhile you will accept the hospitality of the guard-room."

"But, sir .  .  ."

"But me no buts, if you please; leave the room."

I was taken to the guard-room where I spent the night seated on the
ground.  The daylight appeared.  I shouted, swore, made all the
racket I could, said I wanted to go on, but nobody took any notice of
me.

Ten o'clock struck.  More impatient than I can say, I raised my voice
and spoke to the officer, telling him that the governor might
assassinate me if he liked, but had no right to deny me pen and
paper, or to deprive me of the power of sending a messenger to Paris.

"Your name, sir?"

"Here is my passport."

He told me that he would take it to the governor, but I snatched it
away from him.

"Would you like to see the governor?"

"Yes, I should."

We started for the governor's apartments.  The officer was the first
to enter, and in two minutes came out again and brought me in.  I
gave up my passport in proud silence.  The governor read it through,
examining me all the while to see if I was the person described; he
then gave it me back, telling me that I was free to go where I liked.

"Not so fast, sir, I am not in such a hurry now.  I shall send a
messenger to Paris and wait his return; for by stopping me on my
journey you have violated all the rights of the subject."

"You violated them yourself in calling yourself a messenger."

"Not at all; I told you that I was not one."

"Yes, but you told your postillion that you were, and that comes to
the same thing."

"The postillion is a liar, I told him nothing of the kind."

"Why didn't you shew your passport?"

"Why didn't you give me time to do so?   In the course of the next
few days we shall see who is right."

"Just as you please."

I went out with the officer who took me to the posting-place, and a
minute afterwards my carriage drew up.  The posting-place was also an
inn, and I told the landlord to have a special messenger ready to
carry out my orders, to give me a good room and a good bed, and to
serve me some rich soup immediately; and I warned him that I was
accustomed to good fare.  I had my portmanteau and all my belongings
taken into my room, and having washed and put on my dressing-gown I
sat down to write, to whom I did not know, for I was quite wrong in
my contention.  However, I had begun by playing the great man, and I
thought myself bound in honour to sustain the part, without thinking
whether I stood to have to back out of it or no.  All the same I was
vexed at having to wait in Aire till the return of the messenger,
whom I was about to send to the-moon!  In the meanwhile, not having
closed an eye all night, I determined to take a rest.  I was sitting
in my shirt-sleeves and eating the soup which had been served to me,
when the governor came in unaccompanied.  I was both surprised and
delighted to see him.

"I am sorry for what has happened, sir, and above all that you think
you have good reason for complaint, inasmuch as I only did my duty,
for how was I to imagine that your postillion had called you a
messenger on his own responsibility."

"That's all very well, sir, but your sense of duty need not have made
you drive me from your room."

"I was in need of sleep."

"I am in the same position at the present moment, but a feeling of
politeness prevents me from imitating your example."

"May I ask if you have ever been in the service?"

"I have served by land and sea, and have left off when most people
are only beginning."

"In that case you will be aware that the gates of a fortified town
are only opened by night to the king's messengers or to military
superiors."

"Yes, I know; but since they were opened the thing was done, and you
might as well have been polite."

"Will you not put on your clothes, and walk a short distance with
me!"

His invitation pleased me as well as his pride had displeased me.  I
had been thinking of a duel as a possible solution of the difficulty,
but the present course took all trouble out of my hands.  I answered
quietly and politely that the honour of walking with him would be
enough to make me put off all other calls, and I asked him to be
seated while I made haste to dress myself.

I drew on my breeches, throwing the splendid pistols in my pockets on
to the bed, called up the barber, and in ten minutes was ready.  I
put on my sword, and we went out.

We walked silently enough along two or three streets, passed through
a gate, up a court, till we got to a door where my guide stopped
short.  He asked me to come in, and I found myself in a fine room
full of people.  I did not think of going back, but behaved as if I
had been in my own house.

"Sir-my wife," said the governor; and turning to her without pausing,
"here is M. de Casanova, who has come to dinner with us."

"I am delighted to hear it, sir, as otherwise I should have had no
chance of forgiving you for waking me up the other night."

"I paid dearly for my fault, madam, but after the purgatory I had
endured I am sure you will allow me to be happy in this paradise."

She answered with a charming smile, and after asking me to sit beside
her she continued whatever conversation was possible in the midst of
a game at cards.

I found myself completely outwitted, but the thing was done so
pleasantly that all I could do was to put a good face on it--a feat
which I found sufficiently easy from the relief I felt at no longer
being bound to send a messenger to I did not know whom.

The governor well satisfied with his victory, got all at once into
high spirits, and began to talk about military matters, the Court,
and on general topics, often addressing me with that friendly ease
which good French society knows so well how to reconcile with the
rules of politeness; no one could have guessed that there had ever
been the slightest difference between us.  He had made himself
the hero of the piece by the dexterous manner in which he had led up
to the situation, but I had a fair claim to the second place, for I
had made an experienced officer high in command give me the most
flattering kind of satisfaction, which bore witness to the esteem
with which I had inspired him.

The dinner was served.  The success of my part depended on the manner
in which it was played, and my wit has seldom been keener than during
this meal.  The whole conversation was in a pleasant vein, and I took
great care to give the governor's wife opportunities for shining in
it.  She was a charming and pretty woman, still quite youthful, for
she was at least thirty years younger than the governor.  Nothing was
said about my six hours' stay in the guard-room, but at dessert the
governor escaped speaking plainly by a joke that was not worth the
trouble of making.

"You're a nice man," said he, "to think I was going to fight you.
Ah! ha! I have caught you, haven't I?"

"Who told you that I was meditating a duel?"

"Confess that such was the case?"

"I protest; there is a great difference between believing and
supposing; the one is positive, the other merely hypothetical.  I
must confess, however, that your invitation to take a walk roused my
curiosity as to what was to come next, and I admire your wit.  But
you must believe me that I do not regard myself as caught in a trap--
far from that, I am so well pleased that I feel grateful to you."

In the afternoon we all took a walk, and I gave my arm to the
charming mistress of the house.  In the evening I took my leave, and
set out early the next day having made a fair copy of my report.

At five o'clock in the morning I was fast asleep in my carriage, when
I was suddenly awakened.  We were at the gate of Amiens.  The fellow
at the door was an exciseman--a race everywhere detested and with
good cause, for besides the insolence of their manners nothing makes
a man feel more like a slave than the inquisitorial search they are
accustomed to make through one's clothes and most secret possessions.
He asked me if I had anything contraband; and being in a bad temper
at being deprived of my sleep to answer such a question I replied
with an oath that I had nothing of the sort, and that he would have
done better to let me sleep.

"As you talk in that style," said the creature, "we will see what we
can see."

He ordered the postillion to pass on with the carriage.  He had my
luggage hauled down, and not being able to hinder him I fumed in
silence.

I saw my mistake, but there was nothing to be done; and having no
contraband goods I had nothing to fear, but my bad temper cost me two
weary hours of delay.  The joys of vengeance were depicted on the
features of the exciseman.  At the time of which I am writing these
gaugers were the dregs of the people, but would become tractable on
being treated with a little politeness.  The sum of twenty-four sous
given with good grace would make them as supple as a pair of gloves;
they would bow to the travellers, wish them a pleasant journey, and
give no trouble.  I knew all this, but there are times when a man
acts mechanically as I had done, unfortunately.

The scoundrels emptied my boxes and unfolded everything even to my
shirts, between which they said I might have concealed English lace.

After searching everything they gave me back my keys, but they had
not yet done with us; they began to search my carriage.  The rascal
who was at the head of them began to shout "victory," he had
discovered the remainder of a pound of snuff which I had bought at
St. Omer on my way to Dunkirk.

With a voice of triumph the chief exciseman gave orders that my
carriage should be seized, and warned me that I would have to pay a
fine of twelve hundred francs.

For the nonce my patience was exhausted, and I leave the names I
called them to the imagination of the reader; but they were proof
against words.  I told them to take me to the superintendent's.

"You can go if you like," said they, "we are not your servants."

Surrounded by a curious crowd, whom the noise had drawn together, I
began to walk hurriedly towards the town, and entering the first open
shop I came to, I begged the shopkeeper to take me to the
superintendent's.  As I was telling the circumstances of the case, a
man of good appearance, who happened to be in the shop, said that he
would be glad to show me the way himself, though he did not think I
should find the superintendent in, as he would doubtless be warned of
my coming.

"Without your paying either the fine or caution money," said he, "you
will find it a hard matter to get yourself out of the difficulty."

I entreated him to shew me the way to the superintendent's, and not
to trouble about anything else.  He advised me to give the rabble a
louis to buy drink, and thus to rid myself of them, on which I gave
him the louis, begging him to see to it himself, and the bargain was
soon struck.  He was a worthy attorney, and knew his men.

We got to the superintendent's; but, as my guide had warned me, my
gentleman was not to be seen.  The porter told us that he had gone
out alone, that he would not be back before night, and that he did
not know where he had gone.

"There's a whole day lost, then," said the attorney.

"Let us go and hunt him up; he must have well-known resorts and
friends, and we will find them out.  I will give you a louis for the
day's work; will that be enough?"

"Ample."

We spent in vain four hours in looking for the superintendent in ten
or twelve houses.  I spoke to the masters of all of them,
exaggerating considerably the injury that had been done to me.  I was
listened to, condoled with, and comforted with the remark that he
would certainly be obliged to return to his house at night, and then
he could not help hearing what I had to say.  That would not suit me,
so I continued the chase.

At one o'clock the attorney took me to an old lady, who was thought a
great deal of in the town.  She was dining all by herself.  After
giving great attention to my story, she said that she did not think
she could be doing wrong in telling a stranger the whereabouts of an
individual who, in virtue of his office, ought never to be
inaccessible.

"And so, sir, I may reveal to you what after all is no secret.  My
daughter told me yesterday evening that she was going to dine at
Madame N----'s, and that the superintendent was to be there.  Do you
go after him now, and you will find him at table in the best society
in Amiens, but," said she, with a smile, "I advise you not to give
your name at the door.  The numerous servants will shew you the way
without asking for your name. You can then speak to him whether he
likes it or not, and though you don't know him he will hear all you
say.  I am sorry that I cannot be present at so fine a situation."

I gratefully took leave of the worthy lady, and I set off in all
haste to the house I had been told of, the attorney, who was almost
tired out, accompanying me.  Without the least difficulty he and I
slipped in between the crowds of servants till we got to a hall where
there were more than twenty people sitting down to a rich and
delicate repast.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will excuse my troubling your quiet on
this festive occasion with a tale of terror."

At these words, uttered in the voice of Jupiter Tonans, everybody
rose.  The surprise of the high-born company of knights and ladies at
my apparition can easily be imagined.

"Since seven o'clock this morning I have been searching from door to
door and from street to street for his honour the superintendent,
whom I have at last been fortunate enough to find here, for I know
perfectly well that he is present, and that if he have ears he hears
me now.  I am come to request him to order his scoundrelly myrmidons
who have seized my carriage to give it up, so that I may continue my
journey.  If the laws bid me pay twelve hundred francs for seven
ounces of snuff for my own private use, I renounce those laws and
declare that I will not pay a farthing.  I shall stay here and send a
messenger to my ambassador, who will complain that the 'jus gentium'
has been violated in the Ile-de-France in my person, and I will have
reparation.  Louis XV. is great enough to refuse to become an
accomplice in this strange onslaught.  And if that satisfaction which
is my lawful right is not granted me, I will make the thing an affair
of state, and my Republic will not revenge itself by assaulting
Frenchmen for a few pinches of snuff, but will expel them all root
and branch.  If you want to know whom I am, read this."

Foaming with rage, I threw my passport on the table.

A man picked it up and read it, and I knew him to be the
superintendent.  While my papers were being handed round I saw
expressed on every face surprise and indignation, but the
superintendent replied haughtily that he was at Amiens to administer
justice, and that I could not leave the town unless I paid the fine
or gave surety.

"If you are here to do justice, you will look upon my passport as a
positive command to speed me on my way, and I bid you yourself be my
surety if you are a gentleman."

"Does high birth go bail for breaches of the law in your country?"

"In my country men of high birth do not condescend to take
dishonourable employments."

"No service under the king can be dishonourable."

"The hangman would say the same thing."

"Take care what you say."

"Take care what you do.  Know, sir, that I am a free man who has been
grievously outraged, and know, too, that I fear no one.  Throw me out
of the window, if you dare."

"Sir," said a lady to me in the voice of the mistress of the house,
"in my house there is no throwing out of windows."

"Madam, an angry man makes use of terms which his better reason
disowns.  I am wronged by a most cruel act of injustice, and I humbly
crave your pardon for having offended you.  Please to reflect that
for the first time in my life I have been oppressed and insulted, and
that in a kingdom where I thought myself safe from all but highway
robbers.  For them I have my pistols, and for the worthy
superintendents I have a passport, but I find the latter useless.
For the sake of seven ounces of snuff which I bought at St. Omer
three weeks ago, this gentleman robs me and interrupts my journey,
though the king's majesty is my surety that no one shall interfere
with me; he calls on me to pay fifty louis, he delivers me to the
rage of his impudent menials and to the derision of the mob, from
whom I had to rid myself by my money and the aid of this worthy man
beside me.  I am treated like a scoundrel, and the man who should
have been my defender and deliverer slinks away and hides himself,
and adds to the insults I have received.  His myrmidons have turned
my clothes upside down, and pitchforked my linen at the foot of the
town gates, to revenge themselves on me for not giving them twenty,
four sous.  To-morrow the manner in which I have been treated will be
known to the diplomatic bodies at Versailles and Paris, and in a few
days it will be in all the newspapers.  I will pay not a farthing
because I owe not a farthing.  Now, sir, am I to send a courier to
the Duc de Gesvres?"

"What you have got to do is to pay, and if you do not care to pay,
you may do whatever you like."

"Then, ladies and gentlemen, good-bye.  As for you, sir, we shall
meet again."

As I was rushing out of the room like a madman, I heard somebody
calling out to me in good Italian to wait a minute.  I turned round,
and saw the voice had proceeded from a man past middle age, who
addressed the superintendent thus:--

"Let this gentleman proceed on his journey; I will go bail for him.
Do you understand me, superintendent?   I will be his surety.  You
don't know these Italians.  I went through the whole of the last war
in Italy, and I understand the national character.  Besides, I think
the gentleman is in the right."

"Very good," said the official, turning to me.  "All you have to do
is to pay a matter of thirty or forty francs at the customs' office
as the affair is already booked."

"I thought I told you that I would not pay a single farthing, and I
tell it you again.  But who are you, sir," said I, turning to the
worthy old man, "who are good enough to become surety for me without
knowing me?"

"I am a commissary of musters, sir, and my name is de la Bretonniere.
I live in Paris at the 'Hotel de Saxe,' Rue Colombien, where I shall
be glad to see you after to-morrow.  We will go together to M.
Britard, who, after hearing your case, will discharge my bail."

After I had expressed my gratitude, and told him that I would wait
upon him without fail, I made my excuses to the mistress of the house
and the guests, and left them.

I took my worthy attorney to dinner at the best inn in the place, and
I gave him two louis for his trouble.  Without his help and that of
the commissary I should have been in great difficulty; it would have
been a case of the earthen pot and the iron pot over again; for with
jacks-in-office reason is of no use, and though I had plenty of money
I would never have let the wretches rob me of fifty louis.

My carriage was drawn up at the door of the tavern; and just as I was
getting in, one of the excisemen who had searched my luggage came and
told me that I should find everything just as I left it:--

"I wonder at that since it has been left in the hands of men of your
stamp; shall I find the snuff?"

"The snuff has been confiscated, my lord."

"I am sorry for you, then; for if it had been there I would have
given you a louis."

"I will go and look for it directly."

"I have no time to wait for it.  Drive on, postillion."

I got to Paris the next day, and four days after I waited on M. de la
Bretonniere, who gave me a hearty welcome, and took me to M.
Britard, the fermier-general, who discharged his bail.  This M.
Britard was a pleasant young man.  He blushed when he heard all I had
gone through.

I took my report to M. de Bernis, at the "Hotel Bourbon," and his
excellence spent two hours over it, making me take out all
unnecessary matter.  I spent the time in making a fair copy, and the
next day I took it to M. de la Ville, who read it through in silence,
and told me that he would let me know the result.  A month after I
received five hundred louis, and I had the pleasure of hearing that
M. de Cremille, the first lord of the admiralty, had pronounced my
report to be not only perfectly accurate but very suggestive.
Certain reasonable apprehensions prevented me from making myself
known to him--an honour which M.  de Bernis wished to procure for me.

When I told him my adventures on the way back, he laughed, but said
that the highest merit of a secret agent was to keep out of
difficulties; for though he might have the tact to extricate himself
from them, yet he got talked of, which it should be his chief care to
avoid.

This mission cost the admiralty twelve thousand francs, and the
minister might easily have procured all the information I gave him
without spending a penny.  Any intelligent young naval officer would
have done it just as well, and would have acquitted himself with zeal
and discretion, to gain the good opinion of the ministers.  But all
the French ministers are the same.  They lavished money which came
out of other people's pockets to enrich their creatures, and they
were absolute; the downtrodden people counted for nothing, and of
this course the indebtedness of the state and the confusion of the
finances were the inevitable results.  It is quite true that the
Revolution was a necessity, but it should have been marked with
patriotism and right feeling, not with blood.  However, the nobility
and clergy were not men of sufficient generosity to make the
necessary sacrifices to the king, the state, and to themselves.

Silvia was much amused at my adventures at Aire and Amiens, and her
charming daughter shewed much pity for the bad night I had passed in
the guard-room.  I told her that the hardship would have been much
less if I had had a wife beside me.  She replied that a wife, if a
good one, would have been only too happy to alleviate my troubles by
sharing in them, but her mother observed that a woman of parts, after
seeing to the safety of my baggage and my coach, would have busied
herself in taking the necessary steps for setting me at liberty, and
I supported this opinion as best indicating the real duty of a good
wife.




CHAPTER III

The Count de la Tour D'Auvergne and Madame D'Urfe--Camille--My
Passion for the Count's Mistress--The Ridiculous Incident Which Cured
Me--The Count de St. Germain


In spite of my love for Mdlle. Baletti, I did not omit to pay my
court to the most noted ladies of the pavement; but I was chiefly
interested in kept women, and those who consider themselves as
belonging to the public only in playing before them night by night,
queens or chamber-maids.

In spite of this affection, they enjoy what they call their
independence, either by devoting themselves to Cupid or to Plutus,
and more frequently to both together.  As it is not very difficult to
make the acquaintance of these priestesses of pleasure and
dissipation, I soon got to know several of them.

The halls of the theatres are capital places for amateurs to exercise
their talents in intriguing, and I had profited tolerably well by the
lessons I had learnt in this fine school.

I began by becoming the friend of their lovers, and I often succeeded
by pretending to be a man of whom nobody need be afraid.

Camille, an actress and dancer at the Italian play, with whom I had
fallen in love at Fontainebleu seven years ago, was one of those of
whom I was most fond, liking the society at her pretty little house,
where she lived with the Count d'Eigreville, who was a friend of
mine, and fond of my company.  He was a brother of the Marquis de
Gamache and of the Countess du Rumain, and was a fine young fellow of
an excellent disposition.  He was never so well pleased as when he
saw his mistress surrounded by people--a taste which is rarely found,
but which is very convenient, and the sign of a temperament not
afflicted by jealousy.  Camille had no other lovers--an astonishing
thing in an actress of the kind, but being full of tact and wit she
drove none of her admirers to despair.  She was neither over sparing
nor over generous in the distribution of her favours, and knew how to
make the whole town rave about her without fearing the results of
indiscretion or sorrows of being abandoned.

The gentleman of whom, after her lover, she took most notice, was the
Count de la Tour d'Auvergne, a nobleman of an old family, who
idolized her, and, not being rich enough to possess her entirely, had
to be content with what she gave him.  Camille had given him a young
girl, for whose keep she paid, who lived with Tour d'Auvergne in
furnished apartments in the Rue de Taranne, and whom he said he loved
as one loves a portrait, because she came from Camille.  The count
often took her with him to Camille's to supper.  She was fifteen,
simple in her manners, and quite devoid of ambition.  She told her
lover that she would never forgive him an act of infidelity except
with Camille, to whom she felt bound to yield all since to her she
owed all.

I became so much in love with her that I often went to Camille's
solely to see her and to enjoy those artless speeches with which she
delighted the company.  I strove as best I could to conceal my flame,
but often I found myself looking quite sad at the thought of the
impossibility of my love being crowned with success.  If I had let my
passion be suspected I should have been laughed at, and should have
made myself a mark for the pitiless sarcasms of Camille.  However, I
got my cure in the following ridiculous manner:--

Camille lived at the Barriere Blanche, and on leaving her house, one
rainy evening, I sought in vain for a coach to take me home.

"My dear Casanova," said Tour d'Auvergne, "I can drop you at your own
door without giving myself the slightest inconvenience, though my
carriage is only seated for two; however, my sweetheart can sit on
our knees."

I accepted his offer with pleasure, and we seated ourselves in the
carriage, the count on my left hand and Babet on both our knees.

Burning with amorous passion I thought I would take the opportunity,
and, to lose no time, as the coachman was driving fast, I took her
hand and pressed it softly.  The pressure was returned.  Joy!  I
carried the hand to my lips, and covered it with affectionate though
noiseless kisses.  Longing to convince her of the ardour of my
passion, and thinking that her hand would not refuse to do me a sweet
service, I .  .  .  but just at critical moment,

"I am really very much obliged to you, my dear fellow," said the
Count de la Tour d'Auvergne, "for a piece of politeness thoroughly
Italian, of which, however, I do not feel worthy; at least, I hope
it's meant as politeness and not as a sign of contempt."

At these dreadful words I stretched out my hand and felt the sleeve
of his coat.  Presence of mind was no good in a situation like this,
when his words were followed by a peal of loud laughter which would
have confounded the hardiest spirit.  As for me, I could neither join
in his laughter nor deny his accusation; the situation was a fearful
one, or would have been if the friendly shades of night had not
covered my confusion.  Babet did her best to find out from the count
why he laughed so much, but he could not tell her for laughing, for
which I gave thanks with all my heart.  At last the carriage stopped
at my house, and as soon as my servant had opened the door of my
carriage I got down as fast as I could, and wished them good night--a
compliment which Tour d'Auvergne returned with fresh peals of
laughter.  I entered my house in a state of stupefaction, and half an
hour elapsed before I, too, began to laugh at the adventure.  What
vexed me most was the expectation of having malicious jests passed
upon me, for I had not the least right to reckon on the count's
discretion.  However, I had enough sense to determine to join in the
laughter if I could, and if not, to take it well, for this is, and
always will be, the best way to get the laughers on one's own side at
Paris.

For three days I saw nothing of the delightful count, and on the
fourth I resolved to ask him to take breakfast with me, as Camille
had sent to my house to enquire how I was.  My adventure would not
prevent me visiting her house, but I was anxious to know how it had
been taken.

As soon as Tour d'Auvergne saw me he began to roar with laughter, and
I joined in, and we greeted each other in the friendliest manner
possible.  "My dear count," said I, "let us forget this foolish
story.  You have no business to attack me, as I do not know how to
defend myself."

"Why should you defend yourself, my dear fellow.  We like you all the
better for it, and this humorous adventure makes us merry every
evening."

"Everybody knows it, then?"

"Of course, why not?  It makes Camille choke with laughter.  Come
this evening; I will bring Babet, and she will amuse you as she
maintains that you were not mistaken."

"She is right."

"Eh? what?   You do me too much honour, and I don't believe you; but
have it as you like."

"I can't do better, but I must confess when all's said that you were
not the person to whom my fevered imagination offered such ardent
homage."

At supper I jested, pretended to be astonished at the count's
indiscretion, and boasted of being cured of my passion.  Babet called
me a villain, and maintained that I was far from cured; but she was
wrong, as the incident had disgusted me with her, and had attached me
to the count, who, indeed, was a man of the most amiable character.
Nevertheless, our friendship might have been a fatal one, as the
reader will see presently.

One evening, when I was at the Italian theatre, Tour d'Auvergne came
up to me and asked me to lend him a hundred louis, promising to repay
me next Saturday.

"I haven't got the money," I said, "but my purse and all it contains
is at your service."

"I want a hundred louis, my dear fellow, and immediately, as I lost
them at play yesterday evening at the Princess of Anhalt's."

"But I haven't got them."

"The receiver of the lottery ought always to be able to put his hand
on a hundred louis."

"Yes, but I can't touch my cash-box; I have to give it up this day
week."

"So you can; as I will repay you on Saturday.  Take a hundred louis
from the box, and put in my word of honour instead; don't you think
that is worth a hundred Louis?"

"I have nothing to say to that, wait for me a minute."

I ran to my office, took out the money and gave it to him.  Saturday
came but no count, and as I had no money I pawned my diamond ring and
replaced the hundred louis I owed the till.  Three or four days
afterwards, as I was at the Comedie Francaise, the Count de la Tour
d'Auvergne came up to me and began to apologize.  I replied by
shewing my hand, and telling him that I had pawned my ring to save my
honour.  He said, with a melancholy air, that a man had failed to
keep his word with him, but he would be sure to give me the hundred
louis on the Saturday following, adding, "I give you my word of
honour."

"Your word of honour is in my box, so let's say nothing about that.
You can repay me when you like."

The count grew as pale as death.

"My word of honour, my dear Casanova, is more precious to me than my
life; and I will give you the hundred louis at nine o'clock to-morrow
morning at a hundred paces from the cafe at the end of the Champs-
Elysees.  I will give you them in person, and nobody will see us.  I
hope you will not fail to be there, and that you will bring your
sword.  I shall have mine."

"Faith, count! that's making me pay rather dear for my jest.  You
certainly do me a great honour, but I would rather beg your pardon,
if that would prevent this troublesome affair from going any
further."

"No, I am more to blame than you, and the blame can only be removed
by the sword's point.  Will you meet me?

"I do not see how I can refuse you, although I am very much averse to
the affair."

I left him and went to Silvia's, and took my supper sadly, for I
really liked this amiable nobleman, and in my opinion the game we
were going to play was not worth the candle.  I would not have fought
if I could have convinced myself that I was in the wrong, but after
turning the matter well-over, and looking at it from every point of
view, I could not help seeing that the fault lay in the count's
excessive touchiness, and I resolved to give him satisfaction.  At
all hazards I would not fail to keep the appointment.

I reached the cafe a moment after him.  We took breakfast together
and he payed.  We then went out and walked towards the Etoile.  When
we got to a sheltered place he drew a bundle of a hundred louis from
his pocket, gave it to me with the greatest courtesy, and said that
one stroke of the sword would be sufficient.  I could not reply.

He went off four paces and drew his sword.  I did the same without
saying a word, and stepping forward almost as soon as our blades
crossed I thrust and hit him.  I drew back my sword and summoned him
to keep his word, feeling sure that I had wounded him in his chest.

He gently kissed his sword, and putting his hand into his breast he
drew it out covered with blood, and said pleasantly to me, "I am
satisfied."

I said to him all that I could, and all that it was my duty to say in
the way of compliment, while he was stanching the blood with his
handkerchief, and on looking at the point of my sword I was delighted
to find that the wound was of the slightest.  I told him so offering
to see him home.  He thanked me and begged me to keep my own counsel,
and to reckon him henceforth amongst my truest friends.  After I had
embraced him, mingling my tears with my embraces, I returned home,
sad at heart but having learnt a most useful lesson.  No one ever
knew of our meeting, and a week afterwards we supped together at
Camille's.

A few days after, I received from M. de la Ville the five hundred
louis for my Dunkirk mission.  On my going to see Camille she told me
that Tour d'Auvergne was kept in bed by an attack of sciatica, and
that if I liked we could pay him a visit the next day.  I agreed, and
we went.  After breakfast was over I told him in a serious voice that
if he would give me a free hand I could cure him, as he was not
suffering from sciatica but from a moist and windy humour which I
could disperse my means of the Talisman of Solomon and five mystic
words.  He began to laugh, but told me to do what I liked.

"Very good, then I will go out and buy a brush."

"I will send a servant."

"No, I must get it myself, as I want some drugs as well."  I bought
some nitre, mercury, flower of sulphur, and a small brush, and on my
return said, "I must have a little of your -----, this liquid is
indispensable, and it must be quite fresh."

Camille and he began to laugh, but I succeeded in keeping the serious
face suitable to my office.  I handed him a mug and modestly lowered
the curtains, and he then did what I wanted.

I made a mixture of the various ingredients, and I told Camille that
she must rub his thigh whilst I spoke the charm, but I warned her
that if she laughed while she was about it it would spoil all.  This
threat only increased their good humour, and they laughed without
cessation; for as soon as they thought they had got over it, they
would look at one another, and after repressing themselves as long as
they could would burst out afresh, till I began to think that I had
bound them to an impossible condition.  At last, after holding their
sides for half an hour, they set themselves to be serious in real
earnest, taking my imperturbable gravity for their example.  De la
Tour d'Auvergne was the first to regain a serious face, and he then
offered Camille his thigh, and she, fancying herself on the boards,
began to rub the sick man, whilst I mumbled in an undertone words
which they would not have understood however clearly I had spoken,
seeing that I did not understand them myself.

I was nearly spoiling the efficacy of the operation when I saw the
grimaces they made in trying to keep serious.  Nothing could be more
amusing than the expression on Camille's face.  At last I told her
that she had rubbed enough, and dipping the brush into the mixture I
drew on his thigh the five-pointed star called Solomon's seal.  I
then wrapped up the thigh in three napkins, and I told him that if he
would keep quiet for twenty-four hours without taking off--his
napkins, I would guarantee a cure.

The most amusing part of it all was, that by the time I had done the
count and Camille laughed no more, their faces wore a bewildered
look, and as for me .  .  .  I could have sworn I had performed the
most wonderful work in the world.  If one tells a lie a sufficient
number of times, one ends by believing it.

A few minutes after this operation, which I had performed as if by
instinct and on the spur of the moment, Camille and I went away in a
coach, and I told her so many wonderful tales that when she got out
at her door she looked quite mazed.

Four or five days after, when I had almost forgotten the farce, I
heard a carriage stopping at my door, and looking out of my window
saw M. de la Tour d'Auvergne skipping nimbly out of the carriage.

"You were sure of success, then," said he, "as you did not come to
see me the day after your astounding operation."

"Of course I was sure, but if I had not been too busy you would have
seen me, for all that."

"May I take a bath?"

"No, don't bathe till you feel quite well."

"Very good.  Everybody is in a state of astonishment at your feat, as
I could not help telling the miracle to all my acquaintances.  There
are certainly some sceptics who laugh at me, but I let them talk."

"You should have kept your own counsel; you know what Paris is like.
Everybody will be considering me as a master-quack."

"Not at all, not at all.  I have come to ask a favour of you."

"What's that?"

"I have an aunt who enjoys a great reputation for her skill in the
occult sciences, especially in alchemy.  She is a woman of wit, very,
rich, and sole mistress of her fortune; in short, knowing her will do
you no harm.  She longs to see you, for she pretends to know you, and
says that you are not what you seem.  She has entreated me to take
you to dine with her, and I hope you will accept the invitation.  Her
name is the Marchioness d'Urfe"

I did not know this lady, but the name of d'Urfe caught my attention
directly, as I knew all about the famous Anne d'Urfe who flourished
towards the end of the seventeenth century.  The lady was the widow
of his great-grandson, and on marrying into the family became a
believer in the mystical doctrines of a science in which I was much
interested, though I gave it little credit.  I therefore replied that
I should be glad to go, but on the condition that the party should
not exceed the count, his aunt, and myself.

"She has twelve people every day to dinner, and you will find
yourself in the company of the best society in Paris."

"My dear fellow, that's exactly what I don't want; for I hate to be
thought a magician, which must have been the effect of the tales you
have told."

"Oh, no!  not at all; your character is well known, and you will find
yourself in the society of people who have the greatest regard for
you."

"Are you sure of that?"

"The Duchess de l'Oragnais told me, that, four or five years ago, you
were often to be seen at the Palais Royal, and that you used to spend
whole days with the Duchess d'Orleans; Madame de Bouffers, Madame de
Blots, and Madame de Melfort have also talked to me about you.  You
are wrong not to keep up your old acquaintances.  I know at least a
hundred people of the first rank who are suffering from the same
malady as that of which you cured me, and would give the half of
their goods to be cured."

De la Tour d'Auvergne had reason on his side, but as I knew his
wonderful cure had been due to a singular coincidence, I had no
desire to expose myself to public ridicule.  I therefore told him
that I did not wish to become a public character, and that he must
tell Madame d'Urfe that I would have the honour of calling on her in
strict privacy only, and that she might tell me the day and hour on
which I should kneel before her.

The same evening I had a letter from the count making an appointment
at the Tuileries for the morrow; he was to meet me there, and take me
to his aunt's to dinner.  No one else was to be present.

The next day we met each other as had been arranged, and went to see
Madame d'Urfe, who lived on the Quai des Theatins, on the same side
as the "Hotel Bouillon."

Madame d'Urfe, a woman advanced in years, but still handsome,
received me with all the courtly grace of the Court of the Regency.
We spent an hour and a half in indifferent conversation, occupied in
studying each other's character.  Each was trying to get at the
bottom of the other.

I had not much trouble in playing the part of the unenlightened, for
such, in point of fact, was my state of mind, and Madame d'Urfe
unconsciously betrayed the desire of shewing her learning; this put
me at my ease, for I felt sure I could make her pleased with me if I
succeeded in making her pleased with herself.

At two o'clock the same dinner that was prepared every day for twelve
was served for us three.  Nothing worthy of note (so far as
conversation went) was done at dinner, as we talked commonplace after
the manner of people of fashion.

After the dessert Tour d'Auvergne left us to go and see the Prince de
Turenne, who was in a high fever, and after he was gone Madame d'Urfe
began to discuss alchemy and magic, and all the other branches of her
beloved science, or rather infatuation.  When we got on to the magnum
opus, and I asked her if she knew the nature of the first matter, it
was only her politeness which prevented her from laughing; but
controlling herself, she replied graciously that she already
possessed the philosopher's stone, and that she was acquainted with
all the operations of the work.  She then shewed me a collection of
books which had belonged to the great d'Urfe, and Renee of Savoy, his
wife; but she had added to it manuscripts which had cost her more
than a hundred thousand francs.  Paracelsus was her favourite author,
and according to her he was neither man, woman, nor hermaphrodite,
and had the misfortune to poison himself with an overdose of his
panacea, or universal medicine.  She shewed me a short manuscript in
French, where the great work was clearly explained.  She told me that
she did not keep it under lock and key, because it was written in a
cypher, the secret of which was known only to herself.

"You do not believe, then, in steganography."

"No, sir, and if you would like it, I will give you this which has
been copied from the original."

"I accept it, madam, with all the more gratitude in that I know its
worth."

From the library we went into the laboratory, at which I was truly
astonished.  She shewed me matter that had been in the furnace for
fifteen years, and was to be there for four or five years more.  It
was a powder of projection which was to transform instantaneously all
metals into the finest gold.  She shewed me a pipe by which the coal
descended to the furnace, keeping it always at the same heat.  The
lumps of coal were impelled by their own weight at proper intervals
and in equal quantities, so that she was often three months without
looking at the furnace, the temperature remaining the same the whole
time.  The cinders were removed by another pipe, most ingeniously
contrived, which also answered the purpose of a ventilator.

The calcination of mercury was mere child's play to this wonderful
woman.  She shewed me the calcined matter, and said that whenever I
liked she would instruct me as to the process.  I next saw the Tree
of Diana of the famous Taliamed, whose pupil she was.  His real name
was Maillot, and according to Madame d'Urfe he had not, as was
supposed, died at Marseilles, but was still alive; "and," added she,
with a slight smile, "I often get letters from him.  If the Regent of
France," said she, "had listened to me he would be alive now.  He was
my first friend; he gave me the name of Egeria, and he married me to
M. d'Urfe"

She possessed a commentary on Raymond Lully, which cleared up all
difficult points in the comments of Arnold de Villanova on the works
of Roger Bacon and Heber, who, according to her, were still alive.
This precious manuscript was in an ivory casket, the key of which she
kept religiously; indeed her laboratory was a closed room to all but
myself.  I saw a small cask full of 'platina del Pinto', which she
told me she could transmute into gold when she pleased.  It had been
given her by M. Vood himself in 1743.  She shewed me the same metal
in four phials.  In the first three the platinum remained intact in
sulphuric, nitric, and muriatic acid, but in the fourth, which
contained 'aqua regia', the metal had not been able to resist the
action of the acid.  She melted it with the burning-glass, and said
it could be melted in no other way, which proved, in her opinion, its
superiority to gold.  She shewed me some precipitated by sal
ammoniac, which would not precipitate gold.

Her athanor had been alight for fifteen years.  The top was full of
black coal, which made me conclude that she had been in the
laboratory two or three days before.  Stopping before the Tree of
Diana, I asked her, in a respectful voice, if she agreed with those
who said it was only fit to amuse children.  She replied, in a
dignified manner, that she had made it to divert herself with the
crystallization of the silver, spirit of nitre, and mercury, and that
she looked upon it as a piece of metallic vegetation, representing in
little what nature performed on a larger scale; but she added, very
seriously, that she could make a Tree of Diana which should be a very
Tree of the Sun, which would produce golden fruit, which might be
gathered, and which would continue to be produced till no more
remained of a certain ingredient.  I said modestly that I could not
believe the thing possible without the powder of projection, but her
only answer was a pleased smile.

She then pointed out a china basin containing nitre, mercury, and
sulphur, and a fixed salt on a plate.

"You know the ingredients, I suppose?" said she.

"Yes; this fixed salt is a salt of urine."

"You are right."

"I admire your sagacity, madam.  You have made an analysis of the
mixture with which I traced the pentacle on your nephew's thigh, but
in what way can you discover the words which give the pentacle its
efficacy?"

"In the manuscript of an adept, which I will shew you, and where you
will find the very words you used."

I bowed my head in reply, and we left this curious laboratory.

We had scarcely arrived in her room before Madame d'Urfe drew from a
handsome casket a little book, bound in black, which she put on the
table while she searched for a match.  While she was looking about, I
opened the book behind her back, and found it to be full of
pentacles, and by good luck found the pentacle I had traced on the
count's thigh.  It was surrounded by the names of the spirits of the
planets, with the exception of those of Saturn and Mars.  I shut up
the book quickly.  The spirits named were the same as those in the
works of Agrippa, with which I was acquainted.  With an unmoved
countenance I drew near her, and she soon found the match, and her
appearance surprised me a good deal; but I will speak of that another
time.

The marchioness sat down on her sofa, and making me to do the like
she asked me if I was acquainted with the talismans of the Count de
Treves?

"I have never heard of them, madam, but I know those of Poliphilus:"

"It is said they are the same."

"I don't believe it."

"We shall see.  If you will write the words you uttered, as you drew
the pentacle on my nephew's thigh, and if I find the same talisman
with the same words around it, the identity will be proved."

"It will, I confess.  I will write the words immediately."

I wrote out the names of the spirits.  Madame d'Urfe found the
pentacle and read out the names, while I pretending astonishment,
gave her the paper, and much to her delight she found the names to be
the same.

"You see," said she, "that Poliphilus and the Count de Treves
possessed the same art."

"I shall be convinced that it is so, if your book contains the manner
of pronouncing the ineffable names.  Do you know the theory of the
planetary hours?"

"I think so, but they are not needed in this operation."

"They are indispensable, madam, for without them one cannot work with
any certainty.  I drew Solomon's pentacle on the thigh of Count de la
Tour d'Auvergne in the hour of Venus, and if I had not begun with
Arael, the spirit of Venus, the operation would have had no effect."

"I did not know that.  And after Arael?"

"Next comes Mercury, then the Moon, then Jupiter, and then the Sun.
It is, you see, the magic cycle of Zoroaster, in which Saturn and
Mars are omitted."

"And how would you have proceeded if you had gone to work in the hour
of the Moon?"

"I should have begun with Jupiter, passed to the Sun, then to Arael
or Venus, and I should have finished at Mercury."

"I see sir, that you are most apt in the calculation of the planetary
hours."

"Without it one can do nothing in magic, as one would have no proper
data; however, it is an easy matter to learn.  Anyone could pick it
up in a month's time.  The practical use, however, is much more
difficult than the theory; this, indeed, is a complicated affair.  I
never leave my house without ascertaining the exact number of minutes
in the day, and take care that my watch is exact to the time, for a
minute more or less would make all the difference in the world"

"Would you have the goodness to explain the theory to me."

"You will find it in Artephius and more clearly in Sandivogius."

"I have both works, but they are in Latin."

"I will make you a translation of them."

"You are very kind; I shall be extremely obliged to you."

"I have seen such things here, madam, that I could not refuse, for
reasons which I may, perhaps, tell you to-morrow."

"Why not to-day?"

"Because I ought to know the name of your familiar spirit before I
tell you."

"You know, then, that I have a familiar?  You should have one, if it
is true that you possess the powder of projection."

"I have one."

"Give me the oath of the order."

"I dare not, and you know why."

"Perhaps I shall be able to remove your fears by tomorrow."

This absurd oath was none other than that of the princes of the Rosy
Cross, who never pronounce it without being certain that each party
is a Rosicrucian, so Madame d'Urfe was quite right in her caution,
and as for me I had to pretend to be afraid myself.  The fact is I
wanted to gain time, for I knew perfectly well the nature of the
oath.  It may be given between men without any indecency, but a woman
like Madame d'Urfe would probably not relish giving it to a man whom
she saw for the first time.

"When we find this oath alluded to in the Holy Scriptures," she said,
"it is indicated by the words 'he swore to him by laying his hand on
his thigh.'"

"But the thigh is not really what is meant; and consequently we never
find any notice of a man taking this oath to a woman, as a woman has
no 'verbum'."

The Count de la Tour d'Auvergne came back at nine o'clock in the
evening, and he skewed no little astonishment at seeing me still with
his aunt.  He told us that his cousin's fever had increased, and that
small-pox had declared itself; "and I am going to take leave of you,
my dear aunt, at least for a month, as I intend to shut myself up
with the sick man."

Madame d'Urfe praised his zeal, and gave him a little bag on his
promising to return it to her after the cure of the prince.

"Hang it round his neck and the eruption will come out well, and he
will be perfectly cured."

He promised to do so, and having wished us good evening he went out.

"I do not know, madam, what your bag contains, but if it have aught
to do with magic, I have no confidence in its efficacy, as you have
neglected to observe the planetary hour."

"It is an electrum, and magic and the observance of the hour have
nothing to do with it."

"I beg your pardon."

She then said that she thought my desire for privacy praiseworthy,
but she was sure I should not be ill pleased with her small circle,
if I would but enter it.

"I will introduce you to all my friends," said she, "by asking them
one at a time, and you will then be able to enjoy the company of them
all."

I accepted her proposition.

In consequence of this arrangement I dined the next day with M. Grin
and his niece, but neither of them took my fancy.  The day after, I
dined with an Irishman named Macartney, a physician of the old
school, who bored me terribly.  The next day the guest was a monk who
talked literature, and spoke a thousand follies against Voltaire,
whom I then much admired, and against the "Esprit des Lois," a
favourite work of mine, which the cowled idiot refused to attribute
to Montesquieu, maintaining it had been written by a monk.  He might
as well have said that a Capuchin created the heavens and the earth.

On the day following Madame d'Urfe asked me to dine with the
Chevalier d'Arzigny, a man upwards of eighty, vain, foppish, and
consequently ridiculous, known as "The Last of the Beaus."  However,
as he had moved in the court of Louis XIV., he was interesting
enough, speaking with all the courtesy of the school, and having a
fund of anecdote relating to the Court of that despotic and luxurious
monarch.

His follies amused me greatly.  He used rouge, his clothes were cut
in the style which obtained in the days of Madame de Sevigne, he
professed himself still the devoted lover of his mistress, with whom
he supped every night in the company of his lady friends, who were
all young and all delightful, and preferred his society to all
others; however, in spite of these seductions, he remained faithful
to his mistress.

The Chevalier d'Arzigny had an amiability of character which gave
whatever he said an appearance of truth, although in his capacity of
courtier truth was probably quite unknown to him.  He always wore a
bouquet of the most strongly-smelling flowers, such as tuberoses,
jonquils, and Spanish jasmine; his wig was plastered down with amber-
scented pomade, his teeth were made of ivory, and his eyebrows dyed
and perfumed, and his whole person exhaled an odour to which Madame
d'Urfe did not object, but which I could scarcely bear.  If it had
not been for this drawback I should probably have cultivated his
society.  He was a professed Epicurean, and carried out the system
with an amazing tranquillity.  He said that he would undertake to
receive twenty-four blows with the stick every morning on the
condition that he should not die within the twenty-four hours, and
that the older he grew the more blows he would gladly submit to.
This was being in love with life with a vengeance.

Another day I dined with M. Charon, who was a counsellor, and in
charge of a suit between Madame d'Urfe and her daughter Madame du
Chatelet, whom she disliked heartily.  The old counsellor had been
the favoured lover of the marchioness forty years before, and he
thought himself bound by the remembrance of their love-passages to
support the cause of his old sweetheart.  In those days French
magistrates thought they had a right to take the side of their
friends, or of persons in whom they had an interest, sometimes for
friendship's sake, and sometimes for a monetary consideration; they
thought, in fact, that they were justified in selling justice.

M. Charon bored me like the others, as was natural, considering we
had no two tastes in common.

The scene was changed the next day when I was amused with the company
of M. de Viarme, a young counsellor, a nephew of Madame d'Urfe's, and
his pretty and charming wife.  He was the author of the
"Remonstrances to the King," a work which got him a great reputation,
and had been read eagerly by the whole town.  He told me that the
business of a counsellor was to oppose everything done by the crown,
good and bad.  His reasons for this theory were those given by all
minorities, and I do not think I need trouble my readers with them.

The most enjoyable dinner I had was with Madame de Gergi, who came
with the famous adventurer, known by the name of the Count de St.
Germain.  This individual, instead of eating, talked from the
beginning of the meal to the end, and I followed his example in one
respect as I did not eat, but listened to him with the greatest
attention.  It may safely be said that as a conversationalist he was
unequalled.

St. Germain gave himself out for a marvel and always aimed at
exciting amazement, which he often succeeded in doing.  He was
scholar, linguist, musician, and chemist, good-looking, and a perfect
ladies' man.  For awhile he gave them paints and cosmetics; he
flattered them, not that he would make them young again (which he
modestly confessed was beyond him) but that their beauty would be
preserved by means of a wash which, he said, cost him a lot of money,
but which he gave away freely.

He had contrived to gain the favour of Madame de Pompadour, who had
spoken about him to the king, for whom he had made a laboratory, in
which the monarch--a martyr to boredom--tried to find a little
pleasure or distraction, at all events, by making dyes.  The king had
given him a suite of rooms at Chambord, and a hundred thousand francs
for the construction of a laboratory, and according to St. Germain
the dyes discovered by the king would have a materially beneficial
influence on the quality of French fabrics.

This extraordinary man, intended by nature to be the king of
impostors and quacks, would say in an easy, assured manner that he
was three hundred years old, that he knew the secret of the Universal
Medicine, that he possessed a mastery over nature, that he could melt
diamonds, professing himself capable of forming, out of ten or twelve
small diamonds, one large one of the finest water without any loss of
weight.  All this, he said, was a mere trifle to him.
Notwithstanding his boastings, his bare-faced lies, and his manifold
eccentricities, I cannot say I thought him offensive.  In spite of my
knowledge of what he was and in spite of my own feelings, I thought
him an astonishing man as he was always astonishing me.  I shall have
something more to say of this character further on.

When Madame d'Urfe had introduced me to all her friends, I told her
that I would dine with her whenever she wished, but that with the
exception of her relations and St.  Germain, whose wild talk amused
me, I should prefer her to invite no company.  St. Germain often
dined with the best society in the capital, but he never ate
anything, saying that he was kept alive by mysterious food known only
to himself.  One soon got used to his eccentricities, but not to his
wonderful flow of words which made him the soul of whatever company
he was in.

By this time I had fathomed all the depths of Madame d'Urfe's
character.  She firmly believed me to be an adept of the first order,
making use of another name for purposes of my own; and five or six
weeks later she was confirmed in this wild idea on her asking me if I
had diciphered the manuscript which pretended to explain the Magnum
Opus.

"Yes," said I, "I have deciphered it, and consequently read it, and I
now beg to return it you with my word of honour that I have not made
a copy; in fact, I found nothing in it that I did not know before."

"Without the key you mean, but of course you could never find out
that."

"Shall I tell you the key?"

"Pray do so."

I gave her the word, which belonged to no language that I know of,
and the marchioness was quite thunderstruck.

"This is too amazing," said she; "I thought myself the sole possessor
of that mysterious word--for I had never written it down, laying it
up in my memory--and I am sure I have never told anyone of it."

I might have informed her that the calculation which enabled me to
decipher the manuscript furnished me also with the key, but the whim
took me to tell her that a spirit had revealed it to me.  This
foolish tale completed my mastery over this truly learned and
sensible woman on everything but her hobby.  This false confidence
gave me an immense ascendancy over Madame d'Urfe, and I often abused
my power over her.  Now that I am no longer the victim of those
illusions which pursued me throughout my life, I blush at the
remembrance of my conduct, and the penance I impose on myself is to
tell the whole truth, and to extenuate nothing in these Memoirs.

The wildest notion in the good marchioness's brain was a firm belief
in the possibility of communication between mortals and elementary
spirits.  She would have given all her goods to attain to such
communication, and she had several times been deceived by impostors
who made her believe that she attained her aim.

"I did not think," said she, sadly, "that your spirit would have been
able to force mine to reveal my secrets."

"There was no need to force your spirit, madam, as mine knows all
things of his own power."

"Does he know the inmost secrets of my soul?"

"Certainly, and if I ask him he is forced to disclose all to me."

"Can you ask him when you like?"

"Oh, yes! provided I have paper and ink.  I can even ask him
questions through you by telling you his name."

"And will you tell it me?"

"I can do what I say; and, to convince you, his name is Paralis.  Ask
him a simple question in writing, as you would ask a common mortal.
Ask him, for instance, how I deciphered your manuscript, and you
shall see I will compel him to answer you."

Trembling with joy, Madame d'Urfe put her question, expressed it in
numbers, then following my method in pyramid shape; and I made her
extract the answer, which she wrote down in letters.  At first she
only obtained consonants, but by a second process which supplied the
vowels she received a clear and sufficient answer.  Her every feature
expressed astonishment, for she had drawn from the pyramid the word
which was the key to her manuscript.  I left her, carrying with me
her heart, her soul, her mind, and all the common sense which she had
left.




CHAPTER IV

Absurd Ideas of Madame D'Urfe on My Supernatural Powers--Marriage of
My Brother--I Conceive a Plan on His Wedding Day--I Go to Holland on
a Financial Mission--The Jew Boaz Gives Me a Lesson--M. d'Afri--
Esther--Another Casanova--I Find Therese Imer Again


By the time that the Prince du Turenne had recovered from the small-
pox and the Count de la Tour d'Auvergne had left him, the latter,
knowing his aunt's taste for the occult sciences, was not surprised
to find me become her confident and most intimate friend.

I was glad so see him and all the relations of the marchioness at
dinner, as I was delighted with the courtesy with which they treated
me.  I am referring more especially to her brothers MM. de Pont-Carre
and de Viarme who had lately been chosen head of the trade companies,
and his son.  I have already spoken of Madame du Chatelet, the
marchioness's daughter, but an unlucky lawsuit separated them, and
she no longer formed one of the family circle.

De la Tour d'Auvergne having been obliged to rejoin his regiment
which was in garrison in Brittany, the marchioness and I dined
together almost every day and people looked upon me as her husband,
and despite the improbability of the supposition this was the only
way in which they could account for the long hours we spent together.
Madame d'Urfe thought that I was rich and looked upon my position at
the lottery as a mere device for preserving my incognito.

I was the possessor in her estimation, not only of the philosopher's
stone, but also of the power of speaking with the whole host of
elementary spirits; from which premises she drew the very logical
deduction that I could turn the world upside down if I liked, and be
the blessing or the plague of France; and she thought my object in
remaining incognito was to guard myself from arrest and imprisonment;
which according to her would be the inevitable result of the
minister's discovering my real character.  These wild notions were
the fruit of the nocturnal revelations of her genius, that is, of the
dreams of her disordered spirit, which seemed to her realities.  She
did not seem to think that if I was endowed as she supposed no one
would have been able to arrest me, in the first place, because I
should have had foreknowledge of the attempt, and in the second place
because my power would have been too strong for all bolts and bars.
All this was clear enough, but strong passion and prejudice cannot
reason.

One day, in the course of conversation, she said, with the utmost
seriousness, that her genius had advised her that not even I had
power to give her speech with the spirits, since she was a woman, and
the genii only communicated with men, whose nature is more perfect.
Nevertheless, by a process which was well known to me, I might make
her soul pass into the body of a male child born of the mystic
connection between a mortal and an immortal, or, in other words,
between an ordinary man and a woman of a divine nature.

If I had thought it possible to lead back Madame d'Urfe to the right
use of her senses I would have made the attempt, but I felt sure that
her disease was without remedy, and the only course before me seemed
to abet her in her ravings and to profit by them.

If I had spoken out like an honest man and told her that her theories
were nonsensical, she would not have believed me; she would have
thought me jealous of her knowledge, and I should have lost her
favour without any gain to her or to myself.  I thus let things take
their course, and to speak the truth I was flattered to see myself
treated as one of the most profound brothers of the Rosy Cross, as
the most powerful of men by so distinguished a lady, who was in high
repute for her learning, who entertained and was related to the first
families of France, and had an income of eighty thousand francs, a
splendid estate, and several magnificent houses in Paris.  I was
quite sure that she would refuse me nothing, and though I had no
definite plan of profiting by her wealth I experienced a certain
pleasure at the thought that I could do so if I would.

In spite of her immense fortune and her belief in her ability to make
gold, Madame d'Urfe was miserly in her habits, for she never spent
more than thirty thousand francs in a year, and she invested her
savings in the exchange, and in this way had nearly doubled them.  A
brother used to buy her in Government securities at their lowest rate
and sell at their rise, and in this manner, being able to wait for
their rise, and fall, she had amassed a considerable sum.

She had told me more than once that she would give all she possessed
to become a man, and that she knew I could do this for her if I
would.  One day, as she was speaking to me on this subject in a tone
of persuasion almost irresistible, I told her that I must confess I
had the power to do what she wanted, but that I could not make up my
mind to perform the operation upon her as I should have to kill her
first.  I thought this would effectually check her wish to go any
further, but what was my surprise to hear her say,

"I know that, and what is more I know the death I shall have to die;
but for all that I am ready."

"What, then, is that death, madam?"

"It is by the same poison which killed Paracelsus."

"Do you think that Paracelsus obtained the hypostasis?"

"No, but I know the reason of his not doing so."

"What is the reason?"

"It is that he was neither man or woman, and a composite nature is
incapable of the hypostasis, to obtain which one must be either the
one or the other."

"Very true, but do you know how to make the poison, and that the
thing is impossible without the aid of a salamander?"

"That may or may not be!  I beseech you to enquire of the oracle
whether there be anyone in Paris in possession of this potion."

It was easy to see that she thought herself in possession of it, so I
had no hesitation in extracting her name from the oracular pyramid.
I pretended to be astonished at the answer, but she said boastfully,

"You see that all we want is a male child born of an immortal.  This,
I am advised, will be provided by you; and I do not think you will be
found wanting out of a foolish pity for this poor old body of mine."

At these words I rose and went to the window, where I stayed for more
than a quarter of an hour reflecting on her infatuation.  When I
returned to the table where she was seated she scanned my features
attentively, and said, with much emotion, "Can it be done, my dear
friend?   I see that you have been weeping."

I did not try to undeceive her, and, taking my sword and hat, I took
leave of her sadly.  Her carriage, which was always at my disposal,
was at the door, and I drove to the Boulevards, where I walked till
the evening, wondering all the while at the extraordinary fantasies
of the marchioness.

My brother had been made a member of the Academy, on the exhibition
of a battle piece which had taken all the critics by storm.  The
picture was purchased by the Academy for five hundred louis.

He had fallen in love with Caroline, and would have married her but
for a piece of infidelity on her part, which so enraged him that in a
week after he married an Italian dancer.  M. de Sanci, the
ecclesiastical commissioner, gave the wedding party.  He was fond of
the girl, and out of gratitude to my brother for marrying her he got
him numerous orders among his friends, which paved the way to the
large fortune and high repute which my brother afterwards attained.

M. Corneman, the banker, who was at my brother's wedding, spoke to me
at considerable length on the great dearth of money, and asked me to
discuss the matter with the comptroller-general.

He told me that one might dispose of Government securities to an
association of brokers at Amsterdam, and take in exchange the
securities of any other country whose credit was higher than that of
France, and that these securities could easily be realized.  I begged
him to say no more about it, and promised to see what I could do.

The plan pleased me, and I turned it over all night; and the next day
I went to the Palais Bourbon to discuss the question with M. de
Bernis.  He thought the whole idea an excellent one, and advised me
to go to Holland with a letter from M. de Choiseul for M. d'Afri, the
ambassador at the Hague.  He thought that the first person I should
consult with M. de Boulogne, with whom he warned me to appear as if I
was sure of my ground.

"As you do not require money in advance," said he, "you will be able
to get as many letters of recommendation as you like."

The same day I went to the comptroller-general, who approved of my
plan, and told me that M. le Duc de Choiseul would be at the
Invalides the next day, and that I should speak to him at once, and
take a letter he would write for me.

"For my part," said he, "I will credit our ambassador with twenty
millions, and if, contrary to my hopes, you do not succeed, the paper
can be sent back to France."

I answered that there would be no question of the paper being
returned, if they would be content with a fair price.

"The margin will be a small one; however, you will hear about that
from the ambassador, who will have full instructions."

I felt so flattered by this mission that I passed the night in
thinking it over.  The next day I went to the Invalides, and M. de
Choiseul, so famous for taking decisive action, had no sooner read
M. de Boulogne's letter and spoken a few words to me on the subject,
than he got me to write a letter for M. d'Afri, which he signed,
sealed, returned to me, and wished me a prosperous journey.

I immediately got a passport from M. de Berkenrode, and the same day
took leave of Madame Baletti and all my friends except Madame d'Urfe,
with whom I was to spend the whole of the next day.  I gave my clerk
at the lottery office full authority to sign all tickets.

About a month before, a girl from Brussels, as excellent as she was
pretty, had been married under my auspices to an Italian named
Gaetan, by trade a broker.  This fellow, in his fit of jealousy, used
to ill-treat her shamefully; I had reconciled them several times
already, and they regarded me as a kind of go-between.  They came to
see me on the day on which I was making my preparations for going to
Holland.  My brother and Tiretta were with me, and as I was still
living in furnished apartments I took them all to Laudel's, where
they gave one an excellent dinner.  Tiretta, drove his coach-and-
four; he was ruining his ex-methodist, who was still desperately in
love with him.

In the course of dinner Tiretta, who was always in high spirits and
loved a jest, began to flirt with the girl, whom he saw for the first
time.  She, who neither meant nor suspected any ill, was quite at her
ease, and we should have enjoyed the joke, and everything would have
gone on pleasantly, if her husband had possessed some modicum of
manners and common sense, but he began to get into a perfect fury of
jealousy.  He ate nothing, changed colour ten times in a minute, and
looked daggers at his wife, as much as to say he did not see the
joke.  To crown all, Tiretta began to crack jests at the poor
wretch's expense, and I, foreseeing unpleasantness, endeavoured,
though all in vain, to moderate his high spirits and his sallies.  An
oyster chanced to fall on Madame Gaetan's beautiful breast; and
Tiretta, who was sitting near her, took it up with his lips as quick
as lightning.  Gaetan was mad with rage and gave his wife such a
furious box on the ear that his hand passed on from her cheek to that
of her neighbour.  Tiretta now as enraged as Gaetan took him by his
middle and threw him down, where, having no arms, he defended himself
with kicks and fisticuffs, till the waiter came, and we put him out
of the room.

The poor wife in tears, and, like Tiretta, bleeding at the nose,
besought me to take her away somewhere, as she feared her husband
would kill her if she returned to him.  So, leaving Tiretta with my
brother, I got into a carriage with her and I took her, according to
her request, to her kinsman, an old attorney who lived in the fourth
story of a house in the Quai de Gevres.  He received us politely, and
after having heard the tale, he said,

"I am a poor man, and I can do nothing for this unfortunate girl;
while if I had a hundred crowns I could do everything."

"Don't let that stand in your way," said I, and drawing three hundred
francs from my pockets I gave him the money.

"Now, sir," said he, "I will be the ruin of her husband, who shall
never know where his wife is."

She thanked me and I left her there; the reader shall hear what
became of her when I return from my journey.

On my informing Madame d'Urfe that I was going to Holland for the
good of France, and that I should be coming back at the beginning of
February, she begged me to take charge of some shares of hers and to
sell them for her.  They amounted in value to sixty thousand francs,
but she could not dispose of them on the Paris Exchange owing to the
tightness in the money market.  In addition, she could not obtain the
interest due to her, which had mounted up considerably, as she had
not had a dividend for three years.

I agreed to sell the shares for her, but it was necessary for me to
be constituted depositary and owner of the property by a deed, which
was executed the same day before a notary, to whose office we both
went.

On returning to her house I wished to give her an I O U for the
moneys, but she would not hear of such a thing, and I let her remain
satisfied of my honesty.

I called on M. Corneman who gave me a bill of exchange for three
hundred florins on M. Boaz, a Jewish banker at the Hague, and I then
set out on my journey.  I reached Anvers in two days, and finding a
yacht ready to start I got on board and arrived at Rotterdam the next
day.  I got to the Hague on the day following, and after depositing
my effects at the "Hotel d'Angleterre" I proceeded to M. d'Afri's,
and found him reading M. de Choiseul's letter, which informed him of
my business.  He asked me to dine in his company and in that of the
ambassador of the King of Poland, who encouraged me to proceed in my
undertaking though he had not much opinion of my chances of success.

Leaving the ambassador I went to see Boaz, whom I found at table in
the midst of a numerous and ugly family.  He read my letter and told
me he had just received a letter from M. Corneman in which I was
highly commended to him.  By way of a joke he said that as it was
Christmas Eve he supposed I should be going to rock the infant Jesus
asleep, but I answered that I was come to keep the Feast of the
Maccabees with him--a reply which gained me the applause of the whole
family and an invitation to stay with them.  I accepted the offer
without hesitation, and I told my servant to fetch my baggage from
the hotel.  Before leaving the banker I asked him to shew me some way
of making twenty thousand florins in the short time I was going to
stay in Holland.

Taking me quite seriously he replied that the thing might easily be
done and that he would think it over.

The next morning after breakfast, Boaz said,

"I have solved your problem, sir; come in here and I will tell you
about it"

He took me into his private office, and, after counting out three
thousand florins in notes and gold, he told me that if I liked I
could undoubtedly make the twenty thousand florins I had spoken of.

Much surprised at the ease with which money may be got in Holland, as
I had been merely jesting in the remarks I had made, I thanked him
for his kindness, and listened to his explanation.

"Look at this note," said he, "which I received this morning from the
Mint.  It informs me that an issue of four hundred thousand ducats is
about to be made which will be disposed of at the current rate of
gold, which is fortunately not high just now.  Each ducat will fetch
five florins, two stivers and three-fifths.  This is the rate of
exchange with Frankfort.  Buy in four hundred thousand ducats; take
them or send them to Frankfort, with bills of exchange on Amsterdam,
and your business is done.  On every ducat you will make a stiver and
one-ninth, which comes to twenty-two thousand, two hundred and
twenty-two of our florins.  Get hold of the gold to-day, and in a
week you will have your clear profit.  That's my idea."

"But," said I, "will the clerks of the Mint trust me with such a
sum?"

"Certainly not, unless you pay them in current money or in good
paper."

"My dear sir, I have neither money nor credit to that amount."

"Then you will certainly never make twenty thousand florins in a
week.  By the way you talked yesterday I took you for a millionaire."

"I am very sorry you were so mistaken."

"I shall get one of my sons to transact the business to-day."

After giving me this rather sharp lesson, M. Boaz went into his
office, and I went to dress.

M. d'Afri had paid his call on me at the "Hotel d'Angleterre," and
not finding me there he had written me a letter asking me to come and
see him.  I did so, and he kept me to dinner, shewing me a letter he
had received from M. de Boulogne, in which he was instructed not to
let me dispose of the twenty millions at a greater loss than eight
per cent., as peace was imminent.  We both of us laughed at this calm
confidence of the Parisian minister, while we who were in a country
where people saw deeper into affairs knew that the truth was quite
otherwise.

On M. d'Afri's hearing that I was staying with a Jew, he advised me
to keep my own counsel when with Jews, "because," said he, "in
business, most honest and least knavish mean pretty much the same
thing.  If you like," he added, "I will give you a letter of
introduction to M. Pels, of Amsterdam."  I accepted his offer with
gratitude, and in the hope of being useful to me in the matter of my
foreign shares he introduced me to the Swedish ambassador, who sent
me to M. d'O----.

Wanting to be present at a great festival of Freemasons on St.
John's Day, I remained at the Hague till the day after the
celebration.  The Comte de Tot, brother of the baron, who lost all
his money at the seraglio, and whom I had met again at the Hague,
introduced me.  I was not sorry to be in company with all the best
society in Holland.

M. d'Afri introduced me to the mother of the stadtholder, who was
only twelve, and whom I thought too grave for his years.  His mother
was a worthy, patient kind of woman, who fell asleep every minute,
even while she was speaking.  She died shortly after, and it was
discovered at the postmortem examination that she had a disease of
the brain which caused her extreme propensity to sleep.  Beside her I
saw Count Philip de Zinzendorf, who was looking for twelve millions
for the empress--a task which was not very difficult, as he offered
five per cent. interest.

At the play I found myself sitting next to the Turkish minister, and
I thought he would die with laughter before my eyes.  It happened
thus:

They were playing Iphigenia, that masterpiece of Racine's.  The
statue of Diana stood in the midst of the stage, and at the end of
one act Iphigenia and her train of priestesses, while passing before
it, all made a profound bow to the goddess.  The candlesnuffer, who
perhaps may have been a bad wit, crossed the stage just after wards,
and likewise bowed to the goddess.  This put pit and boxes in a good
humour, and peals of laughter sounded from all parts of the house.
All this had to be explained to the Turk, and he fell into such a fit
of laughter that I thought he would burst.  At last he was carried to
his inn still laughing but almost senseless.

To have taken no notice of the Dutchman's heavy wit would have been,
I confess, a mark of stupidity, but no one but a Turk could have
laughed like that.  It may be said that a great Greek philosopher
died of laughter at seeing a toothless old woman trying to eat figs.
But there is a great difference between a Turk and a Greek,
especially an ancient Greek.

Those who laugh a good deal are more fortunate than those who do not
laugh at all, as laughter is good for the digestion; but there is a
just mean in everything.

When I had gone two leagues from Amsterdam in my posting-chaise on
two wheels, my servant sitting beside me, I met a carriage on four
wheels, drawn like mine by two horses, and containing a fine-looking
young man and his servant.  His coachman called out to mine to make
way for him.  My coachman answered that if he did he might turn me
into the ditch, but the other insisted on it.  I spoke to the master,
begging him to tell his coachman to make way for me.

"I am posting, sir," said I; "and, moreover, I am a foreigner."

"Sir," answered he, "in Holland we take no notice of posting or not
posting; and if you are foreigner, as you say, you must confess that
you have fewer rights than I who am in my own country."

The blood rushed to my face.  I flung open the door with one hand and
took my sword with the other; and leaping into the snow, which was up
to my knees, I drew my sword, and summoned the Dutchman to give way
or defend himself.  He was cooler than I, and replied, smiling, that
he was not going to fight for so foolish a cause, and that I might
get into my carriage again, as he would make way for me.  I was
somewhat interested in his cool but pleasant manner.  I got back into
my chaise, and the next night reached Amsterdam.

I put up at the excellent inn "L'Etoile d'Orient," and in the morning
I went on 'Change and found M. Pels.  He told me he would think my
business over, and finding M, d'O---- directly afterwards he offered
to do me my sixty bills and give me twelve per cent.  M. Pels told me
to wait, as he said he could get me fifteen per cent.  He asked me to
dinner, and, on my admiring his Cape wine, he told me with a laugh
that he had made it himself by mixing Bordeaux and Malaga.

M. d'O---- asked me to dinner on the day following; and on calling I
found him with his daughter Esther, a young lady of fourteen, well
developed for her age, and exquisite in all respects except her
teeth, which were somewhat irregular.  M. d'O was a widower, and had
this only child; consequently, Esther was heiress to a large fortune.
Her excellent father loved her blindly, and she deserved his love.
Her skin was snow white, delicately tinted with red; her hair was
black as ebony, and she had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.
She made an impression on me.  Her father had given her an excellent
education; she spoke French perfectly, played the piano admirably,
and was passionately fond of reading.

After dinner M. d'O---- shewed me the uninhabited part of the house,
for since the death of his wife, whose memory was dear to him, he
lived on the ground floor only.  He shewed me a set of rooms where he
kept a treasure in the way of old pottery.  The walls and windows
were covered with plates of marble, each room a different colour, and
the floors were of mosaic, with Persian carpets.  The dining-hall was
cased in alabaster, and the table and the cupboards were of cedar
wood.  The whole house looked like a block of solid marble, for it
was covered with marble without as well as within, and must have cost
immense sums.  Every Saturday half-a-dozen servant girls, perched on
ladders, washed down these splendid walls.  These girls wore wide
hoops, being obliged to put on breeches, as otherwise they would have
interested the passers by in an unseemly manner.  After looking at
the house we went down again, and M. d'O---- left me alone with
Esther in the antechamber, where he worked with his clerks.  As it
was New Year's Day there was not business going on.

After playing a sonata, Mdlle. d'O---- asked me if I would go to a
concert.  I replied that, being in her company, nothing could make me
stir.  "But would you, mademoiselle, like to go?"

"Yes, I should like to go very well, but I cannot go by myself."

"If I might presume to offer to escort you .  .  .  but I dare not
think you would accept."

"I should be delighted, and if you were to ask my father I am sure he
would not refuse his permission."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Quite sure, for otherwise he would be guilty of impoliteness, and my
father would not do such a thing.  But I see you don't know the
manners of the country."

"I confess I do not:"

"Young ladies enjoy great liberty here--liberty which they lose only
by marrying.  Go and ask, and you will see:"

I went to M. d'O---- and made my request, trembling lest I should
meet with a refusal.

"Have you a carriage?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I need not give orders to get mine ready.  Esther!"

"Yes, father."

"Go and dress, my dear; M. Casanova has been kind enough to offer to
take you to the concert."

"How good of him!  Thank you, papa, for letting me go."

She threw her arms around his neck, ran to dress, and reappeared an
hour after, as fair as the joy which was expressed on her every
feature.  I could have wished she had used a little powder, but
Esther was jealous of her ebon tresses, which displayed the whiteness
of her skin to admiration.  The chief aim of women in making their
toilette is to please men, but how poor is the judgment of most men
in such matters compared to the unerring instinct of the generality
of women!

A beautiful lace kerchief veiled her bosom, whose glories made my
heart beat faster.

We went down the stair, I helped her into the carriage, and stopped,
thinking she would be accompanied by one of her women; but seeing
nobody I got in myself.  The door was shut, and we were off.  I was
overwhelmed with astonishment.  A treasure like this in my keeping I
could hardly think.  I asked myself whether I was to remember that I
was a free-lance of love, or whether honour bade me forget it.
Esther, in the highest spirits, told me that we were going to hear an
Italian singer whose voice was exquisite, and noticing my confusion
she asked what was the matter.  I did not know what to say, and began
to stammer out something, but at last succeeded in saying that she
was a treasure of whom I was not worthy to be the keeper.

"I know that in other countries a young girl would not be trusted
alone with a gentleman, but here they teach us discretion and how to
look after ourselves."

"Happy the man who is charged with your welfare, and happier still he
on whom your choice has fallen!"

"That choice is not for me to make; 'tis my father's business."

"But supposing your father's choice is not pleasing to you, or
supposing you love another?"

"We are not allowed to love a man until we know he is to be our
husband."

"Then you are not in love with anyone?"

"No, and I have never felt the desire to love."

"Then I may kiss your hand?"

"Why should you kiss my hand?"

She drew away her hand and offered me her lovely lips.  I took a
kiss, which she gave modestly enough, but which went to my heart.  My
delight was a little alloyed when she said that she would give me
another kiss before her father whenever I liked.

We reached the concert-room, where Esther found many of her young
friends--all daughters of rich merchants, some pretty, some plain,
and all curious to know who I was.  The fair Esther, who knew no more
than my name, could not satisfy them.  All at once seeing a fair
young girl a little way off she pointed her out to me and asked me my
opinion of her.  Naturally enough I replied that I did not care for
fair girls.

"All the same, I must introduce you to her, for she may be a relation
of yours.  Her name is the same; that is her father over there:"

"M. Casanova," said she, speaking to a gentleman, "I beg to introduce
to you M. Casanova, a friend of my father's."

"Really?  The same name; I wish, sir, you were my friend, as we are,
perhaps, related.  I belong to the Naples branch."

"Then we are related, though distantly, as my father came from Parma.
Have you your pedigree?"

"I ought to have such a thing, but to tell you the truth, I don't
think much of such matters.  Besants d'or and such heraldic moneys
are not currency in a mercantile republic."

"Pedigree-hunting is certainly a somewhat foolish pursuit; but it may
nevertheless afford us a few minutes' amusement without our making
any parade of our ancestry."

"With all my heart."

"I shall have the honour of calling on you to-morrow, and I will
bring my family-tree with me.  Will you be vexed if you find the root
of your family also?"

"Not at all; I shall be delighted.  I will call on you myself to-
morrow.  May I ask if you are a business man?"

"No, I am a financial agent in the employ of the French ministry.  I
am staying with M. Pels."

M. Casanova made a sign to his daughter and introduced me to her.
She was Esther's dearest friend, and I sat down between them, and the
concert began.

After a fine symphony, a concerto for the violin, another for the
hautbois, the Italian singer whose repute was so great and who was
styled Madame Trend made her appearance.  What was my surprise when I
recognized in her Therese Imer, wife of the dancer Pompeati, whose
name the reader may remember.  I had made her acquaintance eighteen
years ago, when the old senator Malipiero had struck me because we
were playing together.  I had seen her again at Venice in 1753, and
then our pastime had been of a more serious nature.  She had gone to
Bayreuth, where she had been the margrave's mistress.  I had promised
to go and see her, but C---- C---- and my fair nun M---- M---- had
left me neither the time nor the wish to do so.  Soon after I was put
under the Leads, and then I had other things to think about.  I was
sufficiently self-controlled not to shew my astonishment, and
listened to an aria which she was singing, with her exquisite voice,
beginning "Eccoti giunta al fin, donna infelice," words which seemed
made for the case.

The applause seemed as if it would never come to an end.  Esther told
me that it was not known who she was, but that she was said to be a
woman with a history, and to be very badly off.  "She goes from one
town to another, singing at all the public concerts, and all she
receives is what those present choose to give her on a plate which
she takes round."

"Does she find that pay?"

"I should suspect not, as everyone has paid already at coming in.
She cannot get more than thirty or forty florins.  The day after to-
morrow she will go to the Hague, then to Rotterdam, then back here
again.  She had been performing for six months, and she is always
well received."

"Has she a lover?"

"She is said to have lovers in every town, but instead of enriching
her they make her poorer.  She always wears black, not only because
she is a widow, but also on account of a great grief she is reported
to have gone through.  She will soon be coming round."  I took out my
purse; and counted out twelve ducats, which I wrapped in paper; my
heart beating all the while in a ridiculous manner, for I had really
nothing to be excited about.

When Therese was going along the seats in front of me, I glanced at
her for an instant, and I saw that she looked surprised.  I turned my
head to speak to Esther, and when she was directly in front of me I
put my little packet on the plate without looking at her, and she
passed on.  A little girl, four or five years old, followed her, and
when she got to the end of the bench she came back to kiss my hand.
I could not help recognizing in her a facsimile of myself, but I
concealed my emotion.  The child stood still, and gazed at me
fixedly, to my no small confusion.  "Would you like some sweets, my
dear?" said I, giving her my box, which I should have been glad to
turn into gold.  The little girl took it smilingly, made me a curtsy,
and went on.

"Does it strike you, M. Casanova," said Esther, with a laugh, "that
you and that little girl are as like each other as two peas?"

"Yes, indeed," added Mdlle. Casanova, "there is a striking likeness."

"These resemblances are often the work of chance."

"Just so," said Esther, with a wicked smile, "but you admit a
likeness, don't you?"

"I confess I was struck with it, though of course I cannot judge so
well as you."

After the concert M. d'O---- arrived, and giving back his daughter to
his care I betook myself to my lodging.  I was just sitting down to a
dish of oysters, before going to bed, when Therese made her
appearance, holding her child by the hand.  Although I had not
expected her to visit me that evening, I was nevertheless not much
surprised to see her.  I, of course, rose to greet her, when all at
once she fell fainting on the sofa, though whether the fainting fit
was real or assumed I cannot say.  Thinking that she might be really
ill I played my part properly, and brought her to herself by
sprinkling her with cold water and putting my vinaigrette to her
nose.  As soon as she came to herself she began to gaze at me without
saying a word.  At last, tired of her silence, I asked her if she
would take any supper; and on her replying in the affirmative, I rang
the bell and ordered a good supper for three, which kept us at the
table till seven o'clock in the morning, talking over our various
fortunes and misfortunes.  She was already acquainted with most of my
recent adventures, but I knew nothing at all about hers, and she
entertained me with a recital of them for five or six hours.

Sophie, the little girl, slept in my bed till day, and her mother,
keeping the best of her tale to the last, told me that she was my
daughter, and shewed me her baptismal certificate.  The birth of the
child fell in with the period at which I had been intimate with
Therese, and her perfect likeness to myself left no room for doubt.
I therefore raised no objections, but told the mother that I was
persuaded of my paternity, and that, being in a position to give the
child a good education, I was ready to be a father to her.

"She is too precious a treasure in my sight; if we were separated I
should die."

"You are wrong; for if I took charge of the little girl I should see
that she was well provided for."

"I have a son of twelve to whom I cannot give a proper education;
take charge of him instead of Sophie."

"Where is he?"

"He is boarding, or rather in pawn, at Rotterdam."

"What do you mean by in pawn?"

"I mean that he will not be returned to me until I pay the person who
has got him all my debts."

"How much do you owe?"

"Eighty florins.  You have already given me sixty-two, give me four
ducats more; you can then take my son, and I shall be the happiest of
mothers.  I will send my son to you at the Hague next week, as I
think you will be there."

"Yes, my dear Therese; and instead of four ducats, here are twenty."

"We shall see each other again at the Hague."

She was grateful to excess, but I only felt pity for her and a sort
of friendly interest, and kept quite cool, despite the ardour of her
embraces.  Seeing that her trouble was of no avail, she sighed, shed
some tears, and, taking her daughter, she bid me adieu, promising
once more to send me her son.

Therese was two years older than I.  She was still pretty, and even
handsome, but her charms no longer retained their first beauty, and
my passion for her, having been a merely physical one, it was no
wonder that she had no longer any attraction for me.  Her adventures
during the six years in which I had lost her would certainly interest
my readers, and form a pleasing episode in my book, and I would tell
the tale if it were a true one; but not being a romance writer, I am
anxious that this work shall contain the truth and nothing but the
truth.  Convicted by her amorous and jealous margarve of infidelity,
she had been sent about her business.  She was separated from her
husband Pompeati, had followed a new lover to Brussels, and there had
caught the fancy of Prince Charles de Lorraine, who had obtained her
the direction of all the theatres in the Austrian Low Countries.  She
had then undertaken this vast responsibility, entailing heavy
expenditure, till at last, after selling all her diamonds and lace,
she had fled to Holland to avoid arrest.  Her husband killed himself
at Vienna in a paroxysm caused by internal pain--he had cut open his
stomach with a razor, and died tearing at his entrails.

My business left me no time for sleep.  M. Casanova came and asked me
to dinner, telling me to meet him on the Exchange--a place well worth
seeing.  Millionaires are as plentiful as blackberries, and anyone
who is not worth more than a hundred thousand florins is considered
a poor man.  I found M. d'O---- there, and was asked by him to dinner
the following day at a small house he had on the Amstel.  M. Casanova
treated me with the greatest courtesy.  After reading my pedigree he
went for his own, and found it exactly the same; but he merely
laughed, and seemed to care little about it, differing in that
respect from Don Antonio of Naples, who set such store by my
pedigree, and treated me with such politeness on that account.
Nevertheless, he bade me make use of him in anything relating to
business if I did anything in that way.  I thought his daughter
pretty, but neither her charms nor her wit made any impression on me.
My thoughts were taken up with Esther, and I talked so much about her
at dinner that at last my cousin declared that she did not consider
her pretty.  Oh, you women! beauty is the only unpardonable offence
in your eyes.  Mdlle. Casanova was Esther's friend, and yet she could
not bear to hear her praised.

On my seeing M. d'O---- again after dinner, he told me that if I
cared to take fifteen per cent. on my shares, he would take them from
me and save broker's expenses.  I thought the offer a good one, and I
accepted it, taking a bill of exchange on Tourton & Baur.  At the
rate of exchange at Hamburg I found I should have seventy-two
thousand francs, although at five per cent.  I had only expected
sixty-nine thousand.  This transaction won me high favour with Madame
d'Urfe, who, perhaps, had not expected me to be so honest.

In the evening I went with M. Pels to Zaandam, in a boat placed on a
sleigh and impelled by a sail.  It was an extraordinary, but at the
same time an amusing and agreeable, mode of travelling.  The wind was
strong, and we did fifteen miles an hour; we seemed to pass through
the air as swiftly as an arrow.  A safer and more convenient method
of travelling cannot be imagined; it would be an ideal way of
journeying round the world if there were such a thing as a frozen sea
all round.  The wind, however, must be behind, as one cannot sail on
a side wind, there being no rudder.  I was pleased and astonished at
the skill of our two sailors in lowering sail exactly at the proper
time; for the sleigh ran a good way, from the impetus it had already
received, and we stopped just at the bank of the river, whereas if
the sail had been lowered a moment later the sleigh might have been
broken to pieces.  We had some excellent perch for dinner, but the
strength of the wind prevented us from walking about.  I went there
again, but as Zaandam is well known as the haunt of the millionaire
merchants who retire and enjoy life there in their own way, I will
say no more about it.  We returned in a fine sleigh drawn by two
horses, belonging to M. Pels, and he kept me to supper.  This worthy
man, whose face bore witness to his entire honesty, told me that as I
was now the friend of M. d'O---- and himself, I should have nothing
whatever to do with the Jews, but should address myself to them
alone.  I was pleased with this proposal, which made a good many of
my difficulties disappear, and the reader will see the results of
this course.

Next day snow fell in large flakes, and I went early to M. d'O----'s,
where I found Esther in the highest of spirits.  She gave me a warm
welcome, and began to rally me on having spent the whole night with
Madame Trenti.

I might possibly have shewn some slight confusion, but her father
said an honest man had nothing to be ashamed of in admiring talent.
Then, turning to me, he said,

"Tell me, M. Casanova, who this woman is?"

"She is a Venetian whose husband died recently; I knew her when I was
a lad, and it was six years since I had seen her last."

"You were agreeably surprised, then, to see your daughter?" said
Esther.

"Why do you think the child is my daughter?   Madame Trenti was
married then."

"The likeness is really too strong.  And how about your falling
asleep yesterday when you were supping with M. Pels?"

"It was no wonder that I went asleep, as I had not closed an eye the
night before."

"I am envious of anyone who possesses the secret of getting a good
sleep, for I have always to wait long hours before sleep comes to me,
and when I awake, instead of being refreshed, I feel heavy and
languid from fatigue."

"Try passing the night in listening to one in whom you take an
interest, telling the story of her life, and I promise you that you
will sleep well the night after."

"There is no such person for me."

"No, because you have as yet only seen fourteen summers; but
afterwards there will be someone."

"Maybe, but what I want just now is books, and the help of someone
who will guide my reading."

"That would be an easy matter for anyone who knew your tastes."

"I like history and travels, but for a book to please me it must be
all true, as I lay it down at the slightest suspicion of its
veracity."

"Now I think I may venture to offer my services, and if you will
accept them I believe I shall be able to give satisfaction."

"I accept your offer, and shall keep you to your word."

"You need not be afraid of my breaking it, and before I leave for the
Hague I will prove that I am reliable."

She then began to rally me on the pleasure I should have at the
Hague, where I should see Madame Trenti again.  Her freedom, mirth,
and extreme beauty set my blood on fire, and M. d'O---- laughed
heartily at the war his charming daughter waged on me.  At eleven
o'clock we got into a well-appointed sleigh and we set out for his
small house, where she told me I should find Mdlle. Casanova and her
betrothed.

"Nevertheless," said I, "you will continue to be my only attraction."

She made no answer, but it was easy to perceive that my avowal had
not displeased her.

When we had gone some distance we saw the lovers, who had come out,
in spite of the snow, to meet us.  We got down, and after taking off
our furs we entered the house.  I gazed at the young gentleman, who
looked at me a moment in return and then whispered in Mdlle.
Casanova's ear.  She smiled and whispered something to Esther.
Esther stepped up to her father and said a few words to him in a low
voice, and everybody began to laugh at once.  They all looked at me
and I felt certain that I was somehow the point of the joke, but I
put on an indifferent air.

"There may be a mistake," said M. d'O---- ; "at any rate we should
ascertain the truth of the matter."

"M. Casanova, had you any adventures on your journey from the Hague
to Amsterdam?"

At this I looked again at the young gentleman, and I guessed what
they were talking about.

"No adventure to speak of," I answered, "except a meeting with a fine
fellow who desired to see my carriage turn upside down into the
ditch, and who I think is present now."

At these words the laughter broke out afresh, and the gentleman and I
embraced each other; but after he had given the true account of the
adventure his mistress pretended to be angry, and told him that he
ought to have fought.  Esther observed that he had shewn more true
courage in listening to reason, and M. d'O---- said he was strongly
of his daughter's opinion; however, Mdlle. Casanova, after airing her
high-flown ideas, began to sulk with her lover.

To restore the general mirth, Esther said, gaily, "Come, come, let us
put on our skates, and try the Amstel, for I am afraid that unless we
go forthwith the ice will have melted."  I was ashamed to ask her to
let me off, though I would gladly have done so! but what will not
love do!  M. d'O---- left us to our own devices.  Mdlle. Casanova's
intended put on my skates, and the ladies put on their short
petticoats with black velvet drawers to guard against certain
accidents.  We reached the river, and as I was a perfect neophyte in
this sport the figure I cut may be imagined.  However, I resolutely
determined to conquer my awkwardness, and twenty times, to the peril
of my spine, did I fall down upon the ice.  I should have been wiser
to have left off, but I was ashamed to do so, and I did not stop
till, to my huge delight, we were summoned in to dinner.  But I paid
dear for my obstinacy, for when I tried to rise from the table I felt
as if I had lost the use of my limbs.  Esther pitied me, and said she
would cure me.  There was a good deal of laughter at my expense, and
I let them laugh, as I felt certain that the whole thing had been
contrived to turn me into derision, and wishing to make Esther love
me I thought it best to stimulate a good temper.  I passed the
afternoon with M. d'O----, letting the young people go by themselves
on the Amstel, where they stopped till dusk.

Next morning when I awoke I thought I was a lost man.  I suffered a
martyrdom of pain.  The last of my vertebral bones, called by doctors
the os sacrum, felt as if it had been crushed to atoms, although I
had used almost the whole of a pot of ointment which Esther had given
me for that purpose.  In spite of my torments I did not forget my
promise, and I had myself taken to a bookseller's where I bought all
the books I thought likely to interest her.  She was very grateful,
and told me to come and embrace her before I started if I wanted a
pretty present.

It was not likely that I was going to refuse such an invitation as
that, so I went early in the morning, leaving my post-chaise at the
door Her governess took me to her bed, where she was lying as fair
and gay as Venus herself.

"I am quite sure," said she, "that you would not have come at all
unless I had asked you to come and embrace me."

At this my lips were fastened on her mouth, her eyes, and on every
spot of her lovely face.  But seeing my eyes straying towards her
bosom, and guessing that I should make myself master of it, she
stopped laughing and put herself on the defensive.

"Go away," said she, slyly, "go away and enjoy yourself at the Hague
with the fair Trenti, who possesses so pretty a token of your love."

"My dear Esther, I am going to the Hague to talk business with the
ambassador, and for no other reason, and in six days at latest you
will see me back again, as much your lover as before, and desiring
nothing better than to please you."

"I rely upon your word of honour, but mind you do not deceive me."

With these words she put up her mouth and gave me so tender and
passionate a kiss that I went away feeling certain of my bliss being
crowned on my return.  That evening, at supper-time, I reached Boaz's
house.




End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of MEMOIRES OF JACQUES CASANOVA
THE ETERNAL QUEST, Vol. 3a, PARIS AND HOLLAND
by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt