Continuation of My Intrigues with C. C.--M. de Bragadin Asks the Hand of
That Young Person for Me--Her Father Refuses, and Sends Her to a
Convent--De la Haye--I Lose All my Money at the Faso-table--My
Partnership with Croce Replenishes My Purse--Various Incidents
The happiness derived from my love had prevented me from attaching any
importance to my losses, and being entirely engrossed with the thought of
my sweetheart my mind did not seem to care for whatever did not relate to
her.
I was thinking of her the next morning when her brother called on me with
a beaming countenance, and said,
"I am certain that you have slept with my sister, and I am very glad of
it. She does not confess as much, but her confession is not necessary. I
will bring her to you to-day."
"You will oblige me, for I adore her, and I will get a friend of mine to
ask her in marriage from your father in such a manner that he will not be
able to refuse."
"I wish it may be so, but I doubt it. In the mean time, I find myself
compelled to beg another service from your kindness. I can obtain,
against a note of hand payable in six months, a ring of the value of two
hundred sequins, and I am certain to sell it again this very day for the
same amount. That sum, is very necessary to me just now, but the
jeweller, who knows you, will not let me have it without your security.
Will you oblige me in this instance? I know that you lost a great deal
last night; if you want some money I will give you one hundred sequins,
which you will return when the note of hand falls due."
How could I refuse him? I knew very well that I would be duped, but I
loved his sister so much:
"I am ready," said I to him, "to sign the note of hand, but you are wrong
in abusing my love for your sister in such a manner."
We went out, and the jeweller having accepted my security the bargain was
completed. The merchant, who knew me only by name, thinking of paying me
a great compliment, told P---- C---- that with my guarantee all his goods
were at his service. I did not feel flattered by the compliment, but I
thought I could see in it the knavery of P---- C----, who was clever
enough to find out, out of a hundred, the fool who without any reason
placed confidence in me when I possessed nothing. It was thus that my
angelic C---- C----, who seemed made to insure my happiness, was the
innocent cause of my ruin.
At noon P---- C---- brought his sister; and wishing most likely to prove
its honesty--for a cheat always tries hard to do that--he gave me back
the letter of exchange which I had endorsed for the Cyprus wine, assuring
me likewise that at our next meeting he would hand me the one hundred
sequins which he had promised me.
I took my mistress as usual to Zuecca; I agreed for the garden to be kept
closed, and we dined under a vine-arbour. My dear C---- C---- seemed to me
more beautiful since she was mine, and, friendship being united to love
we felt a delightful sensation of happiness which shone on our features.
The hostess, who had found me generous, gave us some excellent game and
some very fine fish; her daughter served us. She also came to undress my
little wife as soon as we had gone upstairs to give ourselves up to the
sweet pleasures natural to a young married couple.
When we were alone my loved asked me what was the meaning of the one
hundred sequins which her brother had promised to bring me, and I told
her all that had taken place between him and me.
"I entreat you, darling," she said to me, "to refuse all the demands of
my brother in future; he is, unfortunately, in such difficulties that he
would at the end drag you down to the abyss into which he must fall."
This time our enjoyment seemed to us more substantial; we relished it
with a more refined delight, and, so to speak, we reasoned over it.
"Oh, my best beloved!" she said to me, "do all in your power to render me
pregnant; for in that case my father could no longer refuse his consent
to my marriage, under the pretext of my being too young."
It was with great difficulty that I made her understand that the
fulfilment of that wish, however much I shared it myself, was not
entirely in our power; but that, under the circumstances, it would most
probably be fulfilled sooner or later.
After working with all our might at the completion of that great
undertaking, we gave several hours to a profound and delightful repose.
As soon as we were awake I called for candles and coffee, and we set to
work again in the hope of obtaining the mutual harmony of ecstatic
enjoyment which was necessary to insure our future happiness. It was in
the midst of our loving sport that the too early dawn surprised us, and
we hurried back to Venice to avoid inquisitive eyes.
We renewed our pleasures on the Friday, but, whatever delight I may feel
now in the remembrance of those happy moments, I will spare my readers
the description of my new enjoyment, because they might not feel
interested in such repetitions. I must therefore only say that, before
parting on that day, we fixed for the following Monday, the last day of
the carnival, our last meeting in the Garden of Zuecca. Death alone could
have hindered me from keeping that appointment, for it was to be the last
opportunity of enjoying our amorous sport.
On the Monday morning I saw P---- C----, who confirmed the appointment for
the same hour, and at the place previously agreed upon, and I was there
in good time. In spite of the impatience of a lover, the first hour of
expectation passes rapidly, but the second is mortally long. Yet the
third and the fourth passed without my seeing my beloved mistress. I was
in a state of fearful anxiety; I imagined the most terrible disasters. It
seemed to me that if C---- C---- had been unable to go out her brother ought
to have come to let me know it.
But some unexpected mishap might have detained him, and I could not go
and fetch her myself at her house, even if I had feared nothing else than
to miss them on the road. At last, as the church bells were tolling the
Angelus, C---- C---- came alone, and masked.
"I was certain," she said, "that you were here, and here I am in spite of
all my mother could say. You must be starving. My brother has not put in
an appearance through the whole of this day. Let us go quickly to our
garden, for I am very hungry too, and love will console us for all we
have suffered today."
She had spoken very rapidly, and without giving me time to utter a single
word; I had nothing more to ask her. We went off, and took a gondola to
our garden. The wind was very high, it blew almost a hurricane, and the
gondola having only one rower the danger was great. C---- C----, who had
no idea of it, was playing with me to make up for the restraint under
which she had been all day; but her movements exposed the gondolier to
danger; if he had fallen into the water, nothing could have saved us, and
we would have found death on our way to pleasure. I told her to keep
quiet, but, being anxious not to frighten her, I dared not acquaint her
with the danger we were running. The gondolier, however, had not the same
reasons for sparing her feelings, and he called out to us in a stentorian
voice that, if we did not keep quiet, we were all lost. His threat had
the desired effect, and we reached the landing without mishap. I paid the
man generously, and he laughed for joy when he saw the money for which he
was indebted to the bad weather.
We spent six delightful hours in our casino; this time sleep was not
allowed to visit us. The only thought which threw a cloud over our
felicity was that, the carnival being over, we did not know how to
contrive our future meetings. We agreed, however, that on the following
Wednesday morning I should pay a visit to her brother, and that she would
come to his room as usual.
We took leave of our worthy hostess, who, entertaining no hope of seeing
us again, expressed her sorrow and overwhelmed us with blessings. I
escorted my darling, without any accident, as far as the door of her
house, and went home.
I had just risen at noon, when to my great surprise I had a visit from De
la Haye with his pupil Calvi, a handsome young man, but the very copy of
his master in everything. He walked, spoke, laughed exactly like him; it
was the same language as that of the Jesuits correct but rather harsh
French. I thought that excess of imitation perfectly scandalous, and I
could not help telling De la Haye that he ought to change his pupil's
deportment, because such servile mimicry would only expose him to bitter
raillery. As I was giving him my opinion on that subject, Bavois made his
appearance, and when he had spent an hour in the company of the young man
he was entirely of the same mind. Calvi died two or three years later. De
la Haye, who was bent upon forming pupils, became, two or three months
after Calvi's death, the tutor of the young Chevalier de Morosini, the
nephew of the nobleman to whom Bavois was indebted for his rapid fortune,
who was then the Commissioner of the Republic to settle its boundaries
with the Austrian Government represented by Count Christiani.
I was in love beyond all measure, and I would not postpone an application
on which my happiness depended any longer. After dinner, and as soon as
everybody had retired, I begged M. de Bragadin and his two friends to
grant me an audience of two hours in the room in which we were always
inaccessible. There, without any preamble, I told them that I was in love
with C---- C----, and determined on carrying her off if they could not
contrive to obtain her from her father for my wife. "The question at
issue," I said to M. de Bragadin, "is how to give me a respectable
position, and to guarantee a dowry of ten thousand ducats which the young
lady would bring me." They answered that, if Paralis gave them the
necessary instructions, they were ready to fulfil them. That was all I
wanted. I spent two hours in forming all the pyramids they wished, and
the result was that M. de Bragadin himself would demand in my name the
hand of the young lady; the oracle explaining the reason of that choice
by stating that it must be the same person who would guarantee the dowry
with his own fortune. The father of my mistress being then at his
country-house, I told my friends that they would have due notice of his
return, and that they were to be all three together when M. de Bragadin
demanded the young lady's hand.
Well pleased with what I had done, I called on P---- C---- the next
morning. An old woman, who opened the door for me, told me that he was
not at home, but that his mother would see me. She came immediately with
her daughter, and they both looked very sad, which at once struck me as a
bad sign. C---- C---- told me that her brother was in prison for debt, and
that it would be difficult to get him out of it because his debts
amounted to a very large sum. The mother, crying bitterly, told me how
deeply grieved she was at not being able to support him in the prison,
and she shewed me the letter he had written to her, in which he requested
her to deliver an enclosure to his sister. I asked C---- C---- whether I
could read it; she handed it to me, and I saw that he begged her to speak
to me in his behalf. As I returned it to her, I told her to write to him
that I was not in a position to do anything for him, but I entreated the
mother to accept twenty-five sequins, which would enable her to assist
him by sending him one or two at a time. She made up her mind to take
them only when her daughter joined her entreaties to mine.
After this painful scene I gave them an account of what I had done in
order to obtain the hand of my young sweetheart. Madame C---thanked me,
expressed her appreciation of my honourable conduct, but she told me not
to entertain any hope, because her husband, who was very stubborn in his
ideas, had decided that his daughter should marry a merchant, and not
before the age of eighteen. He was expected home that very day. As I was
taking leave of them, my mistress contrived to slip in my hand a letter
in which she told me that I could safely make use of the key which I had
in my possession, to enter the house at midnight, and that I would find
her in her brother's room. This news made me very happy, for,
notwithstanding all the doubts of her mother, I hoped for success in
obtaining her hand.
When I returned home, I told M. de Bragadin of the expected arrival of
the father of my charming C---- C----, and the kind old man wrote to him
immediately in my presence. He requested him to name at what time he
might call on him on important business. I asked M. de Bragadin not to
send his letter until the following day.
The reader can very well guess that C---- C---- had not to wait for me long
after midnight. I gained admittance without any difficulty, and I found
my darling, who received me with open arms.
"You have nothing to fear," she said to me; "my father has arrived in
excellent health, and everyone in the house is fast asleep."
"Except Love," I answered, "which is now inviting us to enjoy ourselves.
Love will protect us, dearest, and to-morrow your father will receive a
letter from my worthy protector."
At those words C---- C---- shuddered. It was a presentiment of the future.
She said to me,
"My father thinks of me now as if I were nothing but a child; but his
eyes are going to be opened respecting me; he will examine my conduct,
and God knows what will happen! Now, we are happy, even more than we were
during our visits to Zuecca, for we can see each other every night
without restraint. But what will my father do when he hears that I have a
lover?"
"What can he do? If he refuses me your hand, I will carry you off, and
the patriarch would certainly marry us. We shall be one another's for
life."
"It is my most ardent wish, and to realize it I am ready to do anything;
but, dearest, I know my father."
We remained two hours together, thinking less of our pleasures than of
our sorrow; I went away promising to see her again the next night. The
whole of the morning passed off very heavily for me, and at noon M. de
Bragadin informed me that he had sent his letter to the father, who had
answered that he would call himself on the following day to ascertain M.
de Bragadin's wishes. At midnight I saw my beloved mistress again, and I
gave her an account of all that had transpired. C---- C---- told me that
the message of the senator had greatly puzzled her father, because, as he
had never had any intercourse with that nobleman, he could not imagine
what he wanted with him. Uncertainty, a sort of anxious dread, and a
confused hope, rendered our enjoyment much less lively during the two
hours which we spent together. I had no doubt that M. Ch. C---- the father
of my young friend, would 'go home immediately after his interview with
M. de Bragadin, that he would ask his daughter a great many questions,
and I feared lest C---- C----, in her trouble and confusion, should betray
herself. She felt herself that it might be so, and I could see how
painfully anxious she was. I was extremely uneasy myself, and I suffered
much because, not knowing how her father would look at the matter, I
could not give her any advice. As a matter of course, it was necessary
for her to conceal certain circumstances which would have prejudiced his
mind against us; yet it was urgent to tell him the truth and to shew
herself entirely submissive to his will. I found myself placed in a
strange position, and above all, I regretted having made the
all-important application, precisely because it was certain to have too
decisive a result. I longed to get out of the state of indecision in
which I was, and I was surprised to see my young mistress less anxious
than I was. We parted with heavy hearts, but with the hope that the next
night would again bring us together, for the contrary did not seem to us
possible.
The next day, after dinner, M. Ch. C---- called upon M. de Bragadin, but I
did not shew myself. He remained a couple of hours with my three friends,
and as soon as he had gone I heard that his answer had been what the
mother had told me, but with the addition of a circumstance most painful
to me--namely, that his daughter would pass the four years which were to
elapse, before she could think of marriage, in a convent. As a palliative
to his refusal he had added, that, if by that time I had a
well-established position in the world, he might consent to our wedding.
That answer struck me as most cruel, and in the despair in which it threw
me I was not astonished when the same night I found the door by which I
used to gain admittance to C---- C---- closed and locked inside.
I returned home more dead than alive, and lost twenty-four hours in that
fearful perplexity in which a man is often thrown when he feels himself
bound to take a decision without knowing what to decide. I thought of
carrying her off, but a thousand difficulties combined to prevent the
execution of that scheme, and her brother was in prison. I saw how
difficult it would be to contrive a correspondence with my wife, for I
considered C---- C---- as such, much more than if our marriage had received
the sanction of the priest's blessing or of the notary's legal contract.
Tortured by a thousand distressing ideas, I made up my mind at last to
pay a visit to Madame C----. A servant opened the door, and informed me
that madame had gone to the country; she could not tell me when she was
expected to return to Venice. This news was a terrible thunder-bolt to
me; I remained as motionless as a statue; for now that I had lost that
last resource I had no means of procuring the slightest information.
I tried to look calm in the presence of my three friends, but in reality
I was in a state truly worthy of pity, and the reader will perhaps
realize it if I tell him that in my despair I made up my mind to call on
P---- C---- in his prison, in the hope that he might give me some
information.
My visit proved useless; he knew nothing, and I did not enlighten his
ignorance. He told me a great many lies which I pretended to accept as
gospel, and giving him two sequins I went away, wishing him a prompt
release.
I was racking my brain to contrive some way to know the position of my
mistress--for I felt certain it was a fearful one--and believing her to
be unhappy I reproached myself most bitterly as the cause of her misery.
I had reached such a state of anxiety that I could neither eat nor sleep.
Two days after the refusal of the father, M. de Bragadin and his two
friends went to Padua for a month. I had not had the heart to go with
them, and I was alone in the house. I needed consolation and I went to
the gaming-table, but I played without attention and lost a great deal. I
had already sold whatever I possessed of any value, and I owed money
everywhere. I could expect no assistance except from my three kind
friends, but shame prevented me from confessing my position to them. I
was in that disposition which leads easily to self-destruction, and I was
thinking of it as I was shaving myself before a toilet-glass, when the
servant brought to my room a woman who had a letter for me. The woman
came up to me, and, handing me the letter, she said,
"Are you the person to whom it is addressed?"
I recognized at once a seal which I had given to C---- C----; I thought I
would drop down dead. In order to recover my composure, I told the woman
to wait, and tried to shave myself, but my hand refused to perform its
office. I put the razor down, turned my back on the messenger, and
opening the letter I read the following lines,
"Before I can write all I have to say, I must be sure of my messenger. I
am boarding in a convent, and am very well treated, and I enjoy excellent
health in spite of the anxiety of my mind. The superior has been
instructed to forbid me all visitors and correspondence. I am, however,
already certain of being able to write to you, notwithstanding these very
strict orders. I entertain no doubt of your good faith, my beloved
husband, and I feel sure that you will never doubt a heart which is
wholly yours. Trust to me for the execution of whatever you may wish me
to do, for I am yours and only yours. Answer only a few words until we
are quite certain of our messenger.
"Muran, June 12th."
In less than three weeks my young friend had become a clever moralist; it
is true that Love had been her teacher, and Love alone can work miracles.
As I concluded the reading of her letter, I was in the state of a
criminal pardoned at the foot of the scaffold. I required several minutes
before I recovered the exercise of my will and my presence of mind.
I turned towards the messenger, and asked her if she could read.
"Ah, sir! if I could not read, it would be a great misfortune for me.
There are seven women appointed for the service of the nuns of Muran. One
of us comes in turn to Venice once a week; I come every Wednesday, and
this day week I shall be able to bring you an answer to the letter which,
if you like, you can write now."
"Then you can take charge of the letters entrusted to you by the nuns?"
"That is not supposed to be one of our duties but the faithful delivery
of letters being the most important of the commissions committed to our
care, we should not be trusted if we could not read the address of the
letters placed in our hands. The nuns wanted to be sure that we shall not
give to Peter the letter addressed to Paul. The good mothers are always
afraid of our being guilty of such blunders. Therefore I shall be here
again, without fail, this day week at the same hour, but please to order
your servant to wake you in case you should be asleep, for our time is
measured as if it were gold. Above all, rely entirely upon my discretion
as long as you employ me; for if I did not know how to keep a silent
tongue in my head I should lose my bread, and then what would become of
me--a widow with four children, a boy eight years old, and three pretty
girls, the eldest of whom is only sixteen? You can see them when you come
to Muran. I live near the church, on the garden side, and I am always at
home when I am not engaged in the service of the nuns, who are always
sending me on one commission or another. The young lady--I do not know
her name yet, for she has only been one week with us--gave me this
letter, but so cleverly! Oh! she must be as witty as she is pretty, for
three nuns who were there were completely bamboozled. She gave it to me
with this other letter for myself, which I likewise leave in your hands.
Poor child! she tells me to be discreet! She need not be afraid. Write to
her, I entreat you, sir, that she can trust me, and answer boldly. I
would not tell you to act in the same manner with all the other
messengers of the convent, although I believe them to be honest--and God
forbid I should speak ill of my fellow-creature--but they are all
ignorant, you see; and it is certain that they babble, at least, with
their confessors, if with nobody else. As for me, thank God! I know very
well that I need not confess anything but my sins, and surely to carry a
letter from a Christian woman to her brother in Christ is not a sin.
Besides, my confessor is a good old monk, quite deaf, I believe, for the
worthy man never answers me; but that is his business, not mine!"
I had not intended to ask her any questions, but if such had been my
intention she would not have given me time to carry it into execution;
and without my asking her anything, she was telling me everything I cared
to know, and she did so in her anxiety for me to avail myself of her
services exclusively.
I immediately sat down to write to my dear recluse, intending at first to
write only a few lines, as she had requested me; but my time was too
short to write so little. My letter was a screed of four pages, and very
likely it said less than her note of one short page. I told her her
letter had saved my life, and asked her whether I could hope to see her.
I informed her that I had given a sequin to the messenger, that she would
find another for herself under the seal of my letter, and that I would
send her all the money she might want. I entreated her not to fail
writing every Wednesday, to be certain that her letters would never be
long enough to give me full particulars, not only of all she did, of all
she was allowed to do, but also of all her thoughts respecting her
release from imprisonment, and the overcoming of all the obstacles which
were in the way of our mutual happiness; for I was as much hers as she
was mine. I hinted to her the necessity of gaining the love of all the
nuns and boarders, but without taking them into her confidence, and of
shewing no dislike of her convent life. After praising her for the clever
manner in which she had contrived to write to me, in spite of superior
orders, I made her understand how careful she was to be to avoid being
surprised while she was writing, because in such a case her room would
certainly be searched and all her papers seized.
"Burn all my letters, darling," I added, "and recollect that you must go
to confession often, but without implicating our love. Share with me all
your sorrows, which interest me even more than your joys."
I sealed my letter in such a manner that no one could possibly guess that
there was a sequin hidden under the sealing wax, and I rewarded the
woman, promising her that I would give her the same reward every time
that she brought me a letter from my friend. When she saw the sequin
which I had put in her hand the good woman cried for joy, and she told me
that, as the gates of the convent were never closed for her, she would
deliver my letter the moment she found the young lady alone.
Here is the note which C---- C---- had given to the woman, with the letter
addressed to me:
"God Himself, my good woman, prompts me to have confidence in you rather
than in anybody else. Take this letter to Venice, and should the person
to whom it is addressed not be in the city, bring it back to me. You must
deliver it to that person himself, and if you find him you will most
likely have an answer, which you must give me, but only when you are
certain that nobody can see you."
If Love is imprudent, it is only in the hope of enjoyment; but when it is
necessary to bring back happiness destroyed by some untoward accident,
Love foresees all that the keenest perspicacity could possibly find out.
The letter of my charming wife overwhelmed me with joy, and in one moment
I passed from a state of despair to that of extreme felicity. I felt
certain that I should succeed in carrying her off even if the walls of
the convent could boast of artillery, and after the departure of the
messenger my first thought was to endeavour to spend the seven days,
before I could receive the second letter, pleasantly. Gambling alone
could do it, but everybody had gone to Padua. I got my trunk ready, and
immediately sent it to the burchiello then ready to start, and I left for
Frusina. From that place I posted, and in less than three hours I arrived
at the door of the Bragadin Palace, where I found my dear protector on
the point of sitting down to dinner. He embraced me affectionately, and
seeing me covered with perspiration he said to me,
"I am certain that you are in no hurry."
"No," I answered, "but I am starving."
I brought joy to the brotherly trio, and I enhanced their happiness when
I told my friends that I would remain six days with them. De la Haye
dined with us on that day; as soon as dinner was over he closeted himself
with M. Dandoio, and for two hours they remained together. I had gone to
bed during that time, but M. Dandolo came up to me and told me that I had
arrived just in time to consult the oracle respecting an important affair
entirely private to himself. He gave me the questions, and requested me
to find the answers. He wanted to know whether he would act rightly if he
accepted a project proposed to him by De la Haye.
The oracle answered negatively.
M. Dandolo, rather surprised, asked a second question: he wished Paralis
to give his reasons for the denial.
I formed the cabalistic pile, and brought out this answer:
"I asked Casanova's opinion, and as I find it opposed to the proposal
made by De la Haye, I do not wish to hear any more about it."
Oh! wonderful power of self-delusion! This worthy man, pleased at being
able to throw the odium of a refusal on me, left me perfectly satisfied.
I had no idea of the nature of the affair to which he had been alluding,
and I felt no curiosity about it; but it annoyed me that a Jesuit should
interfere and try to make my friends do anything otherwise than through
my instrumentality, and I wanted that intriguer to know that my influence
was greater than his own.
After that, I dressed, masked myself, and went to the opera, where I sat
down to a faro-table and lost all my money. Fortune was determined to
shew me that it does not always agree with love. My heart was heavy, I
felt miserable; I went to bed. When I woke in the morning, I saw De la
Haye come into my room with a beaming countenance, and, assuming an air
of devoted friendship, he made a great show of his feelings towards me. I
knew what to think of it all, and I waited for the 'denouement'.
"My dear friend," he said to me at last, "why did you dissuade M. Dandolo
from doing what I had insinuated to him?"
"What had you insinuated to him?"
"You know well enough."
"If I knew it, I would not ask you!"
"M. Dandolo himself told me that you had advised him against it."
"Advised against, that may be, but certainly not dissuaded, for if he had
been persuaded in his own mind he would not have asked my advice."
"As you please; but may I enquire your reasons?"
"Tell me first what your proposal was."
"Has he not told you?"
"Perhaps he has; but if you wish to know my reasons, I must hear the
whole affair from your own lips, because M. Dandolo spoke to me under a
promise of secrecy."
"Of what good is all this reserve?"
"Everyone has his own principles and his own way of thinking: I have a
sufficiently good opinion of you to believe that you would act exactly as
I do, for I have heard you say that in all secret matters one ought to
guard against surprise."
"I am incapable of taking such an advantage of a friend; but as a general
rule your maxim is a right one; I like prudence. I will tell you the
whole affair. You are aware that Madame Tripolo has been left a widow,
and that M. Dandolo is courting her assiduously, after having done the
same for fourteen years during the life of the husband. The lady, who is
still young, beautiful and lovely, and also is very respectable, wishes
to become his wife. It is to me that she has confided her wishes, and as
I saw nothing that was not praiseworthy, either in a temporal or in a
spiritual point of view, in that union, for after all we are all men, I
took the affair in hand with real pleasure. I fancied even that M.
Dandolo felt some inclination for that marriage when he told me that he
would give me his decision this morning. I am not astonished at his
having asked your advice in such an important affair, for a prudent man
is right in asking the opinion of a wise friend before taking a decisive
step; but I must tell you candidly that I am astonished at your
disapproval of such a marriage. Pray excuse me if, in order to improve by
the information, I ask why your opinion is exactly the reverse of mine."
Delighted at having discovered the whole affair, at having arrived in
time to prevent my friend who was goodness itself contracting an absurd
marriage, I answered the hypocrite that I loved M. Dandolo, that I knew
his temperament, and that I was certain that a marriage with a woman like
Madame Tripolo would shorten his life.
"That being my opinion," I added, "you must admit that as a true friend I
was right in advising him against your proposal. Do you recollect having
told me that you never married for the very same reason? Do you recollect
your strong arguments in favour of celibacy while we were at Parma?
Consider also, I beg, that every man has a certain small stock of
selfishness, and that I may be allowed to have mine when I think that if
M. Dandolo took a wife the influence of that wife would of course have
some weight, and that the more she gained in influence over him the more
I should lose. So you see it would not be natural for me to advise him to
take a step which would ultimately prove very detrimental to my
interests. If you can prove that my reasons are either trifling or
sophistical, speak openly: I will tell M. Dandolo that my mind has
changed; Madame Tripolo will become his wife when we return to Venice.
But let me warn you that thorough conviction can alone move me."
"I do not believe myself clever enough to convince you. I shall write to
Madame Tripolo that she must apply to you."
"Do not write anything of the sort to that lady, or she will think that
you are laughing at her. Do you suppose her foolish enough to expect that
I will give way to her wishes? She knows that I do not like her."
"How can she possibly know that?"
"She must have remarked that I have never cared to accompany M. Dandolo
to her house. Learn from me once for all, that as long as I live with my
three friends they shall have no wife but me. You may get married as soon
as you please; I promise not to throw any obstacle in your way; but if
you wish to remain on friendly terms with me give up all idea of leading
my three friends astray."
"You are very caustic this morning."
"I lost all my money last night.
"Then I have chosen a bad time. Farewell."
From that day, De la Haye became my secret enemy, and to him I was in a
great measure indebted, two years later, for my imprisonment under The
Leads of Venice; not owing to his slanders, for I do not believe he was
capable of that, Jesuit though he was--and even amongst such people there
is sometimes some honourable feeling--but through the mystical
insinuations which he made in the presence of bigoted persons. I must
give fair notice to my readers that, if they are fond of such people,
they must not read these Memoirs, for they belong to a tribe which I have
good reason to attack unmercifully.
The fine marriage was never again alluded to. M. Dandolo continued to
visit his beautiful widow every day, and I took care to elicit from
Paralis a strong interdiction ever to put my foot in her house.
Don Antonio Croce, a young Milanese whom I had known in Reggio, a
confirmed gambler, and a downright clever hand in securing the favours of
Dame Fortune, called on me a few minutes after De la Haye had retired. He
told me that, having seen me lose all my money the night before, he had
come to offer me the means of retrieving my losses, if I would take an
equal interest with him in a faro bank that he meant to hold at his
house, and in which he would have as punters seven or eight rich
foreigners who were courting his wife.
"If you will put three hundred sequins in my bank," he added, "you shall
be my partner. I have three hundred sequins myself, but that is not
enough because the punters play high. Come and dine at my house, and you
will make their acquaintance. We can play next Friday as there will be no
opera, and you may rely upon our winning plenty of gold, for a certain
Gilenspetz, a Swede, may lose twenty thousand sequins."
I was without any resources, or at all events I could expect no
assistance except from M. de Bragadin upon whom I felt ashamed of
encroaching. I was well aware that the proposal made by Croce was not
strictly moral, and that I might have chosen a more honourable society;
but if I had refused, the purse of Madame Croce's admirers would not have
been more mercifully treated; another would have profited by that stroke
of good fortune. I was therefore not rigid enough to refuse my assistance
as adjutant and my share of the pie; I accepted Croce's invitation.