CHAPTER VII

My Short Stay in Fort St. Andre--My First Repentance in Love Affairs I

Enjoy the Sweets of Revenge, and Prove a Clever Alibi--Arrest of Count

Bonafede--My Release--Arrival of the Bishop--Farewell to Venice

The fort, in which the Republic usually kept only a garrison of one

hundred half-pay Sclavonians, happened to contain at that time two

thousand Albanian soldiers, who were called Cimariotes.

The secretary of war, who was generally known under the title of 'sage a

l'ecriture', had summoned these men from the East in consequence of some

impending promotion, as he wanted the officers to be on the spot in order

to prove their merits before being rewarded. They all came from the part

of Epirus called Albania, which belongs to the Republic of Venice, and

they had distinguished themselves in the last war against the Turks. It

was for me a new and extraordinary sight to examine some eighteen or

twenty officers, all of an advanced age, yet strong and healthy, shewing

the scars which covered their face and their chest, the last naked and

entirely exposed through military pride. The lieutenant-colonel was

particularly conspicuous by his wounds, for, without exaggeration, he had

lost one-fourth of his head. He had but one eye, but one ear, and no jaw

to speak of. Yet he could eat very well, speak without difficulty, and

was very cheerful. He had with him all his family, composed of two pretty

daughters, who looked all the prettier in their national costume, and of

seven sons, every one of them a soldier. This lieutenant-colonel stood

six feet high, and his figure was magnificent, but his scars so

completely deformed his features that his face was truly horrid to look

at. Yet I found so much attraction in him that I liked him the moment I

saw him, and I would have been much pleased to converse with him if his

breath had not sent forth such a strong smell of garlic. All the

Albanians had their pockets full of it, and they enjoyed a piece of

garlic with as much relish as we do a sugar-plum. After this none can

maintain it to be a poison, though the only medicinal virtue it possesses

is to excite the appetite, because it acts like a tonic upon a weak

stomach.

The lieutenant-colonel could not read, but he was not ashamed of his

ignorance, because not one amongst his men, except the priest and the

surgeon, could boast greater learning. Every man, officer or private, had

his purse full of gold; half of them, at least, were married, and we had

in the fortress a colony of five or six hundred women, with God knows how

many children! I felt greatly interested in them all. Happy idleness! I

often regret thee because thou hast often offered me new sights, and for

the same reason I hate old age which never offers but what I know

already, unless I should take up a gazette, but I cared nothing for them

in my young days.

Alone in my room I made an inventory of my trunk, and having put aside

everything of an ecclesiastical character, I sent for a Jew, and sold the

whole parcel unmercifully. Then I wrote to M. Rosa, enclosing all the

tickets of the articles I had pledged, requesting him to have them sold

without any exception, and to forward me the surplus raised by the sale.

Thanks to that double operation, I was enabled to give my Sclavonian

servant the ten sous allowed to me every day. Another soldier, who had

been a hair-dresser, took care of my hair which I had been compelled to

neglect, in consequence of the rules of the seminary. I spent my time in

walking about the fort and through the barracks, and my two places of

resort were the major's apartment for some intellectual enjoyment, and

the rooms of the Albanian lieutenant-colonel for a sprinkling of love.

The Albanian feeling certain that his colonel would be appointed

brigadier, solicited the command of the regiment, but he had a rival and

he feared his success. I wrote him a petition, short, but so well

composed that the secretary of war, having enquired the name of the

author, gave the Albanian his colonelcy. On his return to the fort, the

brave fellow, overjoyed at his success, hugged me in his arms, saying

that he owed it all to me; he invited me to a family dinner, in which my

very soul was parched by his garlic, and he presented me with twelve

botargoes and two pounds of excellent Turkish tobacco.

The result of my petition made all the other officers think that they

could not succeed without the assistance of my pen, and I willingly gave

it to everybody; this entailed many quarrels upon me, for I served all

interests, but, finding myself the lucky possessor of some forty sequins,

I was no longer in dread of poverty, and laughed at everything. However,

I met with an accident which made me pass six weeks in a very unpleasant

condition.

On the 2nd of April, the fatal anniversary of my first appearance in this

world, as I was getting up in the morning, I received in my room the

visit of a very handsome Greek woman, who told me that her husband, then

ensign in the regiment, had every right to claim the rank of lieutenant,

and that he would certainly be appointed, if it were not for the

opposition of his captain who was against him, because she had refused

him certain favours which she could bestow only upon her husband. She

handed me some certificates, and begged me to write a petition which she

would present herself to the secretary of war, adding that she could only

offer me her heart in payment. I answered that her heart ought not to go

alone; I acted as I had spoken, and I met with no other resistance than

the objection which a pretty woman is always sure to feign for the sake

of appearance. After that, I told her to come back at noon, and that the

petition would be ready. She was exact to the appointment, and very

kindly rewarded me a second time; and in the evening, under pretence of

some alterations to be made in the petition, she afforded an excellent

opportunity of reaping a third recompense.

But, alas! the path of pleasure is not strewn only with roses! On the

third day, I found out, much to my dismay, that a serpent had been hid

under the flowers. Six weeks of care and of rigid diet re-established my

health.

When I met the handsome Greek again, I was foolish enough to reproach her

for the present she had bestowed upon me, but she baffled me by laughing,

and saying that she had only offered me what she possessed, and that it

was my own fault if I had not been sufficiently careful. The reader

cannot imagine how much this first misfortune grieved me, and what deep

shame I felt. I looked upon myself as a dishonoured man, and while I am

on that subject I may as well relate an incident which will give some

idea of my thoughtlessness.

Madame Vida, the major's sister-in-law, being alone with me one morning,

confided in me in a moment of unreserved confidence what she had to

suffer from the jealous disposition of her husband, and his cruelty in

having allowed her to sleep alone for the last four years, when she was

in the very flower of her age.

"I trust to God," she added, "that my husband will not find out that you

have spent an hour alone with me, for I should never hear the end of it."

Feeling deeply for her grief, and confidence begetting confidence, I was

stupid enough to tell her the sad state to which I had been reduced by

the cruel Greek woman, assuring her that I felt my misery all the more

deeply, because I should have been delighted to console her, and to give

her the opportunity of a revenge for her jealous husband's coldness. At

this speech, in which my simplicity and good faith could easily be

traced, she rose from her chair, and upbraided me with every insult which

an outraged honest woman might hurl at the head of a bold libertine who

has presumed too far. Astounded, but understanding perfectly well the

nature of my crime, I bowed myself out of her room; but as I was leaving

it she told me in the same angry tone that my visits would not be welcome

for the future, as I was a conceited puppy, unworthy of the society of

good and respectable women. I took care to answer that a respectable

woman would have been rather more reserved than she had been in her

confidences. On reflection I felt pretty sure that, if I had been in good

health, or had said nothing about my mishap, she would have been but too

happy to receive my consolations.

A few days after that incident I had a much greater cause to regret my

acquaintance with the Greek woman. On Ascension Day, as the ceremony of

the Bucentaur was celebrated near the fort, M. Rosa brought Madame Orio

and her two nieces to witness it, and I had the pleasure of treating them

all to a good dinner in my room. I found myself, during the day, alone

with my young friends in one of the casements, and they both loaded me

with the most loving caresses and kisses. I felt that they expected some

substantial proof of my love; but, to conceal the real state, of things,

I pretended to be afraid of being surprised, and they had to be satisfied

with my shallow excuse.

I had informed my mother by letter of all I had suffered from Grimani's

treatment; she answered that she had written to him on the subject, that

she had no doubt he would immediately set me at liberty, and that an

arrangement had been entered into by which M. Grimani would devote the

money raised by Razetta from the sale of the furniture to the settlement

of a small patrimony on my youngest brother. But in this matter Grimani

did not act honestly, for the patrimony was only settled thirteen years

afterwards, and even then only in a fictitious manner. I shall have an

opportunity later on of mentioning this unfortunate brother, who died

very poor in Rome twenty years ago.

Towards the middle of June the Cimariotes were sent back to the East, and

after their departure the garrison of the fort was reduced to its usual

number. I began to feel weary in this comparative solitude, and I gave

way to terrible fits of passion.

The heat was intense, and so disagreeable to me that I wrote to M.

Grimani, asking for two summer suits of clothes, and telling him where

they would be found, if Razetta had not sold them. A week afterwards I

was in the major's apartment when I saw the wretch Razetta come in,

accompanied by a man whom he introduced as Petrillo, the celebrated

favourite of the Empress of Russia, just arrived from St. Petersburg. He

ought to have said infamous instead of celebrated, and clown instead of

favourite.

The major invited them to take a seat, and Razetta, receiving a parcel

from Grimani's gondolier, handed it to me, saying,

"I have brought you your rags; take them."

I answered:

"Some day I will bring you a 'rigano':"

At these words the scoundrel dared to raise his cane, but the indignant

major compelled him to lower his tone by asking him whether he had any

wish to pass the night in the guard-house. Petrillo, who had not yet

opened his lips, told me then that he was sorry not to have found me in

Venice, as I might have shewn him round certain places which must be well

known to me.

"Very likely we should have met your wife in such places," I answered.

"I am a good judge of faces," he said, "and I can see that you are a true

gallows-bird."

I was trembling with rage, and the major, who shared my utter disgust,

told them that he had business to transact, and they took their leave.

The major assured me that on the following day he would go to the war

office to complain of Razetta, and that he would have him punished for

his insolence.

I remained alone, a prey to feelings of the deepest indignation, and to a

most ardent thirst for revenge.

The fortress was entirely surrounded by water, and my windows were not

overlooked by any of the sentinels. A boat coming under my windows could

therefore easily take me to Venice during the night and bring me back to

the fortress before day-break. All that was necessary was to find a

boatman who, for a certain amount, would risk the galleys in case of

discovery. Amongst several who brought provisions to the fort, I chose a

boatman whose countenance pleased me, and I offered him one sequin; he

promised to let me know his decision on the following day. He was true to

his time, and declared himself ready to take me. He informed me that,

before deciding to serve me, he had wished to know whether I was kept in

the fort for any great crime, but as the wife of the major had told him

that my imprisonment had been caused by very trifling frolics, I could

rely upon him. We arranged that he should be under my window at the

beginning of the night, and that his boat should be provided with a mast

long enough to enable me to slide along it from the window to the boat.

The appointed hour came, and everything being ready I got safely into the

boat, landed at the Sclavonian quay, ordered the boatman to wait for me,

and wrapped up in a mariner's cloak I took my way straight to the gate of

Saint-Sauveur, and engaged the waiter of a coffee-room to take me to

Razetta's house.

Being quite certain that he would not be at home at that time, I rang the

bell, and I heard my sister's voice telling me that if I wanted to see

him I must call in the morning. Satisfied with this, I went to the foot

of the bridge and sat down, waiting there to see which way he would come,

and a few minutes before midnight I saw him advancing from the square of

Saint-Paul. It was all I wanted to know; I went back to my boat and

returned to the fort without any difficulty. At five o'clock in the

morning everyone in the garrison could see me enjoying my walk on the

platform.

Taking all the time necessary to mature my plans, I made the following

arrangements to secure my revenge with perfect safety, and to prove an

alibi in case I should kill my rascally enemy, as it was my intention to

do. The day preceding the night fixed for my expedition, I walked about

with the son of the Adjutant Zen, who was only twelve years old, but who

amused me much by his shrewdness. The reader will meet him again in the

year 1771. As I was walking with him, I jumped down from one of the

bastions, and feigned to sprain my ankle. Two soldiers carried me to my

room, and the surgeon of the fort, thinking that I was suffering from a

luxation, ordered me to keep to bed, and wrapped up the ankle in towels

saturated with camphorated spirits of wine. Everybody came to see me, and

I requested the soldier who served me to remain and to sleep in my room.

I knew that a glass of brandy was enough to stupefy the man, and to make

him sleep soundly. As soon as I saw him fast asleep, I begged the surgeon

and the chaplain, who had his room over mine, to leave me, and at

half-past ten I lowered myself in the boat.

As soon as I reached Venice, I bought a stout cudgel, and I sat myself

down on a door-step, at the corner of the street near Saint-Paul's

Square. A narrow canal at the end of the street, was, I thought, the very

place to throw my enemy in. That canal has now disappeared.

At a quarter before twelve I see Razetta, walking along leisurely. I come

out of the street with rapid strides, keeping near the wall to compel him

to make room for me, and I strike a first blow on the head, and a second

on his arm; the third blow sends him tumbling in the canal, howling and

screaming my name. At the same instant a Forlan, or citizen of Forli,

comes out of a house on my left side with a lantern in his hand. A blow

from my cudgel knocks the lantern out of his grasp, and the man,

frightened out of his wits, takes to his heels. I throw away my stick, I

run at full speed through the square and over the bridge, and while

people are hastening towards the spot where the disturbance had taken

place, I jump into the boat, and, thanks to a strong breeze swelling our

sail, I get back to the fortress. Twelve o'clock was striking as I

re-entered my room through the window. I quickly undress myself, and the

moment I am in my bed I wake up the soldier by my loud screams, telling

him to go for the surgeon, as I am dying of the colic.

The chaplain, roused by my screaming, comes down and finds me in

convulsions. In the hope that some diascordium would relieve me, the good

old man runs to his room and brings it, but while he has gone for some

water I hide the medicine. After half an hour of wry faces, I say that I

feel much better, and thanking all my friends, I beg them to retire,

which everyone does, wishing me a quiet sleep.

The next morning I could not get up in consequence of my sprained ankle,

although I had slept very well; the major was kind enough to call upon me

before going to Venice, and he said that very likely my colic had been

caused by the melon I had eaten for my dinner the day before.

The major returned at one o'clock in the afternoon. "I have good news to

give you," he said to me, with a joyful laugh. "Razetta was soundly

cudgelled last night and thrown into a canal."

"Has he been killed?"

"No; but I am glad of it for your sake, for his death would make your

position much more serious. You are accused of having done it."

"I am very glad people think me guilty; it is something of a revenge, but

it will be rather difficult to bring it home to me."

"Very difficult! All the same, Razetta swears he recognized you, and the

same declaration is made by the Forlan who says that you struck his hand

to make him drop his lantern. Razetta's nose is broken, three of his

teeth are gone, and his right arm is severely hurt. You have been accused

before the avogador, and M. Grimani has written to the war office to

complain of your release from the fortress without his knowledge. I

arrived at the office just in time. The secretary was reading Grimani's

letter, and I assured his excellency that it was a false report, for I

left you in bed this morning, suffering from a sprained ankle. I told him

likewise that at twelve o'clock last night you were very near death from

a severe attack of colic."

"Was it at midnight that Razetta was so well treated?"

"So says the official report. The war secretary wrote at once to M.

Grimani and informed him that you have not left the fort, and that you

are even now detained in it, and that the plaintiff is at liberty, if he

chooses, to send commissaries to ascertain the fact. Therefore, my dear

abbe, you must prepare yourself for an interrogatory."

"I expect it, and I will answer that I am very sorry to be innocent."

Three days afterwards, a commissary came to the fort with a clerk of the

court, and the proceedings were soon over. Everybody knew that I had

sprained my ankle; the chaplain, the surgeon, my body-servant, and

several others swore that at midnight I was in bed suffering from colic.

My alibi being thoroughly proved, the avogador sentenced Razetta and the

Forlan to pay all expenses without prejudice to my rights of action.

After this judgment, the major advised me to address to the secretary of

war a petition which he undertook to deliver himself, and to claim my

release from the fort. I gave notice of my proceedings to M. Grimani, and

a week afterwards the major told me that I was free, and that he would

himself take me to the abbe. It was at dinnertime, and in the middle of

some amusing conversation, that he imparted that piece of information.

Not supposing him to be in earnest, and in order to keep up the joke, I

told him very politely that I preferred his house to Venice, and that, to

prove it, I would be happy to remain a week longer, if he would grant me

permission to do so. I was taken at my word, and everybody seemed very

pleased. But when, two hours later, the news was confirmed, and I could

no longer doubt the truth of my release, I repented the week which I had

so foolishly thrown away as a present to the major; yet I had not the

courage to break my word, for everybody, and particularly his wife, had

shown such unaffected pleasure, it would have been contemptible of me to

change my mind. The good woman knew that I owed her every kindness which

I had enjoyed, and she might have thought me ungrateful.

But I met in the fort with a last adventure, which I must not forget to

relate.

On the following day, an officer dressed in the national uniform called

upon the major, accompanied by an elderly man of about sixty years of

age, wearing a sword, and, presenting to the major a dispatch with the

seal of the war office, he waited for an answer, and went away as soon as

he had received one from the governor.

After the officer had taken leave, the major, addressing himself to the

elderly gentleman, to whom he gave the title of count, told him that his

orders were to keep him a prisoner, and that he gave him the whole of the

fort for his prison. The count offered him his sword, but the major nobly

refused to take it, and escorted him to the room he was to occupy. Soon

after, a servant in livery brought a bed and a trunk, and the next

morning the same servant, knocking at my door, told me that his master

begged the honour of my company to breakfast. I accepted the invitation,

and he received me with these words:

"Dear sir, there has been so much talk in Venice about the skill with

which you proved your incredible alibi, that I could not help asking for

the honour of your acquaintance."

"But, count, the alibi being a true one, there can be no skill required

to prove it. Allow me to say that those who doubt its truth are paying me

a very poor compliment, for--"

"Never mind; do not let us talk any more of that, and forgive me. But as

we happen to be companions in misfortune, I trust you will not refuse me

your friendship. Now for breakfast."

After our meal, the count, who had heard from me some portion of my

history, thought that my confidence called for a return on his part, and

he began: "I am the Count de Bonafede. In my early days I served under

Prince Eugene, but I gave up the army, and entered on a civil career in

Austria. I had to fly from Austria and take refuge in Bavaria in

consequence of an unfortunate duel. In Munich I made the acquaintance of

a young lady belonging to a noble family; I eloped with her and brought

her to Venice, where we were married. I have now been twenty years in

Venice. I have six children, and everybody knows me. About a week ago I

sent my servant to the postoffice for my letters, but they were refused

him because he had not any money to pay the postage. I went myself, but

the clerk would not deliver me my letters, although I assured him that I

would pay for them the next time. This made me angry, and I called upon

the Baron de Taxis, the postmaster, and complained of the clerk, but he

answered very rudely that the clerk had simply obeyed his orders, and

that my letters would only be delivered on payment of the postage. I felt

very indignant, but as I was in his house I controlled my anger, went

home, and wrote a note to him asking him to give me satisfaction for his

rudeness, telling him that I would never go out without my sword, and

that I would force him to fight whenever and wherever I should meet him.

I never came across him, but yesterday I was accosted by the secretary of

the inquisitors, who told me that I must forget the baron's rude conduct,

and go under the guidance of an officer whom he pointed out to me, to

imprison myself for a week in this fortress. I shall thus have the

pleasure of spending that time with you."

I told him that I had been free for the last twenty-four hours, but that

to shew my gratitude for his friendly confidence I would feel honoured if

he would allow me to keep him company. As I had already engaged myself

with the major, this was only a polite falsehood.

In the afternoon I happened to be with him on the tower of the fort, and

pointed out a gondola advancing towards the lower gate; he took his

spy-glass and told me that it was his wife and daughter coming to see

him. We went to meet the ladies, one of whom might once have been worth

the trouble of an elopement; the other, a young person between fourteen

and sixteen, struck me as a beauty of a new style. Her hair was of a

beautiful light auburn, her eyes were blue and very fine, her nose a

Roman, and her pretty mouth, half-open and laughing, exposed a set of

teeth as white as her complexion, although a beautiful rosy tint somewhat

veiled the whiteness of the last. Her figure was so slight that it seemed

out of nature, but her perfectly-formed breast appeared an altar on which

the god of love would have delighted to breathe the sweetest incense.

This splendid chest was, however, not yet well furnished, but in my

imagination I gave her all the embonpoint which might have been desired,

and I was so pleased that I could not take my looks from her. I met her

eyes, and her laughing countenance seemed to say to me: "Only wait for

two years, at the utmost, and all that your imagination is now creating

will then exist in reality."

She was elegantly dressed in the prevalent fashion, with large hoops, and

like the daughters of the nobility who have not yet attained the age of

puberty, although the young countess was marriageable. I had never dared

to stare so openly at the bosom of a young lady of quality, but I thought

there was no harm in fixing my eyes on a spot where there was nothing yet

but in expectation.

The count, after having exchanged a few words in German with his wife,

presented me in the most flattering manner, and I was received with great

politeness. The major joined us, deeming it his duty to escort the

countess all over the fortress, and I improved the excellent opportunity

thrown in my way by the inferiority of my position; I offered my arm to

the young lady, and the count left us to go to his room.

I was still an adept in the old Venetian fashion of attending upon

ladies, and the young countess thought me rather awkward, though I

believed myself very fashionable when I placed my hand under her arm, but

she drew it back in high merriment. Her mother turned round to enquire

what she was laughing at, and I was terribly confused when I heard her

answer that I had tickled her.

"This is the way to offer your arm to a lady," she said, and she passed

her hand through my arm, which I rounded in the most clumsy manner,

feeling it a very difficult task to resume a dignified countenance.

Thinking me a novice of the most innocent species, she very likely

determined to make sport of me. She began by remarking that by rounding

my arm as I had done I placed it too far from her waist, and that I was

consequently out of drawing. I told her I did not know how to draw, and

inquired whether it was one of her accomplishments.

"I am learning," she answered, "and when you call upon us I will shew you

Adam and Eve, after the Chevalier Liberi; I have made a copy which has

been found very fine by some professors, although they did not know it

was my work."

"Why did you not tell them?"

"Because those two figures are too naked."

"I am not curious to see your Adam, but I will look at your Eve with

pleasure, and keep your secret."

This answer made her laugh again, and again her mother turned round. I

put on the look of a simpleton, for, seeing the advantage I could derive

from her opinion of me, I had formed my plan at the very moment she tried

to teach me how to offer my arm to a lady.

She was so convinced of my simplicity that she ventured to say that she

considered her Adam by far more beautiful than her Eve, because in her

drawing of the man she had omitted nothing, every muscle being visible,

while there was none conspicuous in Eve. "It is," she added, "a figure

with nothing in it."

"Yet it is the one which I shall like best."

"No; believe me, Adam will please you most."

This conversation had greatly excited me. I had on a pair of linen

breeches, the weather being very warm.... I was afraid of the major and

the countess, who were a few yards in front of us, turning round .... I

was on thorns. To make matters worse, the young lady stumbled, one of her

shoes slipped off, and presenting me her pretty foot she asked me to put

the shoe right. I knelt on the ground, and, very likely without thinking,

she lifted up her skirt.... she had very wide hoops and no petticoat....

what I saw was enough to strike me dead on the spot.... When I rose, she

asked if anything was the matter with me.

A moment after, coming out of one of the casemates, her head-dress got

slightly out of order, and she begged that I would remedy the accident,

but, having to bend her head down, the state in which I was could no

longer remain a secret for her. In order to avoid greater confusion to

both of us, she enquired who had made my watch ribbon; I told her it was

a present from my sister, and she desired to examine it, but when I

answered her that it was fastened to the fob-pocket, and found that she

disbelieved me, I added that she could see for herself. She put her hand

to it, and a natural but involuntary excitement caused me to be very

indiscreet. She must have felt vexed, for she saw that she had made a

mistake in her estimate of my character; she became more timid, she would

not laugh any more, and we joined her mother and the major who was

shewing her, in a sentry-box, the body of Marshal de Schulenburg which

had been deposited there until the mausoleum erected for him was

completed. As for myself, I felt deeply ashamed. I thought myself the

first man who had alarmed her innocence, and I felt ready to do anything

to atone for the insult.

Such was my delicacy of feeling in those days. I used to credit people

with exalted sentiments, which often existed only in my imagination. I

must confess that time has entirely destroyed that delicacy; yet I do not

believe myself worse than other men, my equals in age and inexperience.

We returned to the count's apartment, and the day passed off rather

gloomily. Towards evening the ladies went away, but the countess gave me

a pressing invitation to call upon them in Venice.

The young lady, whom I thought I had insulted, had made such a deep

impression upon me that the seven following days seemed very long; yet I

was impatient to see her again only that I might entreat her forgiveness,

and convince her of my repentance.

The following day the count was visited by his son; he was

plain-featured, but a thorough gentleman, and modest withal. Twenty-five

years afterwards I met him in Spain, a cadet in the king's body-guard. He

had served as a private twenty years before obtaining this poor

promotion. The reader will hear of him in good time; I will only mention

here that when I met him in Spain, he stood me out that I had never known

him; his self-love prompted this very contemptible lie.

Early on the eighth day the count left the fortress, and I took my

departure the same evening, having made an appointment at a coffee-house

in St. Mark's Square with the major who was to accompany me to M.

Grimani's house. I took leave of his wife, whose memory will always be

dear to me, and she said, "I thank you for your skill in proving your

alibi, but you have also to thank me for having understood you so well.

My husband never heard anything about it until it was all over."

As soon as I reached Venice, I went to pay a visit to Madame Orio, where

I was made welcome. I remained to supper, and my two charming sweethearts

who were praying for the death of the bishop, gave me the most delightful

hospitality for the night.

At noon the next day I met the major according to our appointment, and we

called upon the Abbe Grimani. He received me with the air of a guilty man

begging for mercy, and I was astounded at his stupidity when he entreated

me to forgive Razetta and his companion. He told me that the bishop was

expected very soon, and that he had ordered a room to be ready for me,

and that I could take my meals with him. Then he introduced me to M.

Valavero, a man of talent, who had just left the ministry of war, his

term of office having lasted the usual six months. I paid my duty to him,

and we kept up a kind of desultory conversation until the departure of

the major. When he had left us M. Valavero entreated me to confess that I

had been the guilty party in the attack upon Razetta. I candidly told him

that the thrashing had been my handiwork, and I gave him all the

particulars, which amused him immensely. He remarked that, as I had

perpetrated the affair before midnight, the fools had made a mistake in

their accusation; but that, after all, the mistake had not materially

helped me in proving the alibi, because my sprained ankle, which

everybody had supposed a real accident, would of itself have been

sufficient.

But I trust that my kind reader has not forgotten that I had a very heavy

weight upon my conscience, of which I longed to get rid. I had to see the

goddess of my fancy, to obtain my pardon, or die at her feet.

I found the house without difficulty; the count was not at home. The

countess received me very kindly, but her appearance caused me so great a

surprise that I did not know what to say to her. I had fancied that I was

going to visit an angel, that I would find her in a lovely paradise, and

I found myself in a large sitting-room furnished with four rickety chairs

and a dirty old table. There was hardly any light in the room because the

shutters were nearly closed. It might have been a precaution against the

heat, but I judged that it was more probably for the purpose of

concealing the windows, the glass of which was all broken. But this

visible darkness did not prevent me from remarking that the countess was

wrapped up in an old tattered gown, and that her chemise did not shine by

its cleanliness. Seeing that I was ill at ease, she left the room, saying

that she would send her daughter, who, a few minutes afterwards, came in

with an easy and noble appearance, and told me that she had expected me

with great impatience, but that I had surprised her at a time at which

she was not in the habit of receiving any visits.

I did not know what to answer, for she did not seem to me to be the same

person. Her miserable dishabille made her look almost ugly, and I

wondered at the impression she had produced upon me at the fortress. She

saw my surprise, and partly guessed my thoughts, for she put on a look,

not of vexation, but of sorrow which called forth all my pity. If she had

been a philosopher she might have rightly despised me as a man whose

sympathy was enlisted only by her fine dress, her nobility, or her

apparent wealth; but she endeavoured to bring me round by her sincerity.

She felt that if she could call a little sentiment into play, it would

certainly plead in her favour.

"I see that you are astonished, reverend sir, and I know the reason of

your surprise. You expected to see great splendour here, and you find

only misery. The government allows my father but a small salary, and

there are nine of us. As we must attend church on Sundays and holidays in

a style proper to our condition, we are often compelled to go without our

dinner, in order to get out of pledge the clothes which urgent need too

often obliges us to part with, and which we pledge anew on the following

day. If we did not attend mass, the curate would strike our names off the

list of those who share the alms of the Confraternity of the Poor, and

those alms alone keep us afloat."

What a sad tale! She had guessed rightly. I was touched, but rather with

shame than true emotion. I was not rich myself, and, as I was no longer

in love, I only heaved a deep sigh, and remained as cold as ice.

Nevertheless, her position was painful, and I answered politely, speaking

with kindness and assuring her of my sympathy. "Were I wealthy," I said,

"I would soon shew you that your tale of woe has not fallen on unfeeling

ears; but I am poor, and, being at the eve of my departure from Venice,

even my friendship would be useless to you." Then, after some desultory

talk, I expressed a hope that her beauty would yet win happiness for her.

She seemed to consider for a few minutes, and said, "That may happen some

day, provided that the man who feels the power of my charms understands

that they can be bestowed only with my heart, and is willing to render me

the justice I deserve; I am only looking for a lawful marriage, without

dreaming of rank or fortune; I no longer believe in the first, and I know

how to live without the second; for I have been accustomed to poverty,

and even to abject need; but you cannot realize that. Come and see my

drawings."

"You are very good, mademoiselle."

Alas! I was not thinking of her drawings, and I could no longer feel

interested in her Eve, but I followed her.

We came to a chamber in which I saw a table, a chair, a small

toilet-glass and a bed with the straw palliasse turned over, very likely

for the purpose of allowing the looker-on to suppose that there were

sheets underneath, but I was particularly disgusted by a certain smell,

the cause of which was recent; I was thunderstruck, and if I had been

still in love, this antidote would have been sufficiently powerful to

cure me instanter. I wished for nothing but to make my escape, never to

return, and I regretted that I could not throw on the table a handful of

ducats, which I should have considered the price of my ransom.

The poor girl shewed me her drawings; they were fine, and I praised

them, without alluding particularly to Eve, and without venturing a joke

upon Adam. I asked her, for the sake of saying something, why she did not

try to render her talent remunerative by learning pastel drawing.

"I wish I could," she answered, "but the box of chalks alone costs two

sequins."

"Will you forgive me if I am bold enough to offer you six?"

"Alas! I accept them gratefully, and to be indebted to you for such a

service makes me truly happy."

Unable to keep back her tears, she turned her head round to conceal them

from me, and I took that opportunity of laying the money on the table,

and out of politeness, wishing to spare her every unnecessary

humiliation, I saluted her lips with a kiss which she was at liberty to

consider a loving one, as I wanted her to ascribe my reserve to the

respect I felt for her. I then left her with a promise to call another

day to see her father. I never kept my promise. The reader will see how I

met her again after ten years.

How many thoughts crowded upon my mind as I left that house! What a

lesson! I compared reality with the imagination, and I had to give the

preference to the last, as reality is always dependent on it. I then

began to forsee a truth which has been clearly proved to me in my after

life, namely, that love is only a feeling of curiosity more or less

intense, grafted upon the inclination placed in us by nature that the

species may be preserved. And truly, woman is like a book, which, good or

bad, must at first please us by the frontispiece. If this is not

interesting, we do not feel any wish to read the book, and our wish is in

direct proportion to the interest we feel. The frontispiece of woman runs

from top to bottom like that of a book, and her feet, which are most

important to every man who shares my taste, offer the same interest as

the edition of the work. If it is true that most amateurs bestow little

or no attention upon the feet of a woman, it is likewise a fact that most

readers care little or nothing whether a book is of the first edition or

the tenth. At all events, women are quite right to take the greatest care

of their face, of their dress, of their general appearance; for it is

only by that part of the frontispiece that they can call forth a wish to

read them in those men who have not been endowed by nature with the

privilege of blindness. And just in the same manner that men, who have

read a great many books, are certain to feel at last a desire for

perusing new works even if they are bad, a man who has known many women,

and all handsome women, feels at last a curiosity for ugly specimens when

he meets with entirely new ones. It is all very well for his eye to

discover the paint which conceals the reality, but his passion has become

a vice, and suggests some argument in favour of the lying frontispiece.

It is possible, at least he thinks so, that the work may prove better

than the title-page, and the reality more acceptable than the paint which

hides it. He then tries to peruse the book, but the leaves have not been

opened; he meets with some resistance, the living book must be read

according to established rules, and the book-worm falls a victim to a

coquetry, the monster which persecutes all those who make a business of

love. As for thee, intelligent man, who hast read the few preceding

lines, let me tell thee that, if they do not assist in opening thy eyes,

thou art lost; I mean that thou art certain of being a victim to the fair

sex to the very last moment of thy life. If my candour does not displease

thee, accept my congratulations. In the evening I called upon Madame

Orio, as I wanted to inform her charming nieces that, being an inmate of

Grimani's house, I could not sleep out for the first night. I found there

the faithful Rosa, who told me that the affair of the alibi was in every

mouth, and that, as such celebrity was evidently caused by a very decided

belief in the untruth of the alibi itself, I ought to fear a retaliation

of the same sort on the part of Razetta, and to keep on my guard,

particularly at night. I felt all the importance of this advice, and I

took care never to go out in the evening otherwise than in a gondola, or

accompanied by some friends. Madame Manzoni told me that I was acting

wisely, because, although the judges could not do otherwise than acquit

me, everybody knew the real truth of the matter, and Razetta could not

fail to be my deadly foe.

Three or four days afterwards M. Grimani announced the arrival of the

bishop, who had put up at the convent of his order, at Saint-Francois de

Paul. He presented me himself to the prelate as a jewel highly prized by

himself, and as if he had been the only person worthy of descanting upon

its beauty.

I saw a fine monk wearing his pectoral cross. He would have reminded me

of Father Mancia if he had not looked stouter and less reserved. He was

about thirty-four, and had been made a bishop by the grace of God, the

Holy See, and my mother. After pronouncing over me a blessing, which I

received kneeling, and giving me his hand to kiss, he embraced me warmly,

calling me his dear son in the Latin language, in which he continued to

address me. I thought that, being a Calabrian, he might feel ashamed of

his Italian, but he undeceived me by speaking in that language to M.

Grimani. He told me that, as he could not take me with him from Venice, I

should have to proceed to Rome, where Grimani would take care to send me,

and that I would procure his address at Ancona from one of his friends,

called Lazari, a Minim monk, who would likewise supply me with the means

of continuing my journey.

"When we meet in Rome," he added, "we can go together to Martorano by way

of Naples. Call upon me to-morrow morning, and have your breakfast with

me. I intend to leave the day after."

As we were on our way back to his house, M. Grimani treated me to a long

lecture on morals, which nearly caused me to burst into loud laughter.

Amongst other things, he informed me that I ought not to study too hard,

because the air in Calabria was very heavy, and I might become

consumptive from too close application to my books.

The next morning at day-break I went to the bishop. After saying his

mass, we took some chocolate, and for three hours he laid me under

examination. I saw clearly that he was not pleased with me, but I was

well enough pleased with him. He seemed to me a worthy man, and as he was

to lead me along the great highway of the Church, I felt attracted

towards him, for, at the time, although I entertained a good opinion of

my personal appearance, I had no confidence whatever in my talents.

After the departure of the good bishop, M. Grimani gave me a letter left

by him, which I was to deliver to Father Lazari, at the Convent of the

Minims, in Ancona. M. Grimani informed me that he would send me to that

city with the ambassador from Venice, who was on the point of sailing. I

had therefore to keep myself in readiness, and, as I was anxious to be

out of his hands, I approved all his arrangements. As soon as I had

notice of the day on which the suite of the ambassador would embark, I

went to pay my last farewell to all my acquaintances. I left my brother

Francois in the school of M. Joli, a celebrated decorative painter. As

the peotta in which I was to sail would not leave before daybreak, I

spent the short night in the arms of the two sisters, who, this time,

entertained no hope of ever seeing me again. On my side I could not

forsee what would happen, for I was abandoning myself to fate, and I

thought it would be useless to think of the future. The night was

therefore spent between joy and sadness, between pleasures and tears. As

I bade them adieu, I returned the key which had opened so often for me

the road to happiness.

This, my first love affair, did not give me any experience of the world,

for our intercourse was always a happy one, and was never disturbed by

any quarrel or stained by any interested motive. We often felt, all three

of us, as if we must raise our souls towards the eternal Providence of

God, to thank Him for having, by His particular protection, kept from us

all the accidents which might have disturbed the sweet peace we were

enjoying.

I left in the hands of Madame Manzoni all my papers, and all the

forbidden books I possessed. The good woman, who was twenty years older

than I, and who, believing in an immutable destiny, took pleasure in

turning the leaves of the great book of fate, told me that she was

certain of restoring to me all I left with her, before the end of the

following year, at the latest. Her prediction caused me both surprise and

pleasure, and feeling deep reverence for her, I thought myself bound to

assist the realization of her foresight. After all, if she predicted the

future, it was not through superstition, or in consequence of some vain

foreboding which reason must condemn, but through her knowledge of the

world, and of the nature of the person she was addressing. She used to

laugh because she never made a mistake.

I embarked from St: Mark's landing. M. Grimani had given me ten sequins,

which he thought would keep me during my stay in the lazzaretto of Ancona

for the necessary quarantine, after which it was not to be supposed that

I could want any money. I shared Grimani's certainty on the subject, and

with my natural thoughtlessness I cared nothing about it. Yet I must say

that, unknown to everybody, I had in my purse forty bright sequins, which

powerfully contributed to increase my cheerfulness, and I left Venice

full of joy and without one regret.

The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 01: Childhood · 第 7 / 7 章