Continuation of the Preceding Chapter--I Leave Soleure
When the servants had gone away and left us alone, it would have looked
strange if we had remained as dumb as two posts; but in my state of mind
I did not feel myself capable of breaking the silence. My dear Dubois,
who began to love me because I made her happy, felt my melancholy react
on herself, and tried to make me talk.
"Your sadness," said she, "is not like you; it frightens me. You may
console yourself by telling me of your troubles, but do not imagine that
my curiosity springs from any unworthy motive, I only want to be of
service to you. You may rely on my being perfectly discreet; and to
encourage you to speak freely, and to give you that trust in me which I
think I deserve, I will tell you what I know and what I have learnt about
yourself. My knowledge has not been obtained by any unworthy stratagems,
or by a curiosity in affairs which do not concern me."
"I am pleased with what you say, my dear housekeeper. I see you are my
friend, and I am grateful to you. Tell me all you know about the matter
which is now troubling me, and conceal nothing."
"Very good. You are the lover and the beloved of Madame----. The widow
whom you have treated badly has played you some trick which has involved
you with your mistress, and then the wretched woman has 477 left your
house with the most unpardonable rudeness this tortures you. You fear
some disastrous consequences from which you cannot escape, your heart and
mind are at war, and there is a struggle in your breast between passion
and sentiment. Perhaps I am wrong, but yesterday you seemed to me happy
and to-day miserable. I pity you, because you have inspired me with the
tenderest feelings of friendship. I did my best to-day to converse with
the husband that you might be free to talk to the wife, who seems to me
well worthy of your love."
"All that you have said is true. Your friendship is dear to me, and I
have a high opinion of your intellectual powers. The widow is a monster
who has made me wretched in return for my contempt, and I cannot revenge
myself on her. Honour will not allow me to tell you any more, and indeed
it would be impossible for you or any one else to alleviate the grief
that overwhelms me. It may possibly be my death, but in the mean time, my
dear Dubois, I entreat you to continue your friendship towards me, and to
treat me with entire candour. I shall always attend to what you say, and
thus you will be of the greatest service to me. I shall not be
ungrateful."
I spent a weary night as I had expected, for anger, the mother of
vengeance, always made me sleepless, while sudden happiness had sometimes
the same effect.
I rang for Le Duc early in the morning, but, instead of him, Madame
Dubois's ugly little attendant came, and told me that my man was ill, and
that the housekeeper would bring me my chocolate. She came in directly
after, and I had no sooner swallowed the chocolate than I was seized with
a violent attack of sickness, the effect of anger, which at its height
may kill the man who cannot satisfy it. My concentrated rage called for
vengeance on the dreadful widow, the chocolate came on the top of the
anger, and if it had not been rejected I should have been killed; as it
was I was quite exhausted. Looking at my housekeeper I saw she was in
tears, and asked her why she wept.
"Good heavens! Do you think I have a heart of stone?"
"Calm yourself; I see you pity me. Leave me, and I hope I shall be able
to get some sleep."
I went to sleep soon after, and I did not wake till I had slept for seven
hours. I felt restored to life. I rang the bell, my housekeeper came in,
and told me the surgeon of the place had called. She looked very
melancholy, but on seeing my more cheerful aspect I saw gladness
reappearing on her pretty face.
"We will dine together, dearest," said I, "but tell the surgeon to come
in. I want to know what he has to say to me."
The worthy man entered, and after looking carefully round the room to see
that we were alone, he came up to me, and whispered in my ear that Le Duc
had a malady of a shameful character.
I burst out laughing, as I had been expecting some terrible news.
"My dear doctor," said I, "do all you can to cure him, and I will pay you
handsomely, but next time don't look so doleful when you have anything to
tell me. How old are you?"
"Nearly eighty."
"May God help you!"
I was all the more ready to sympathize with my poor Spaniard, as I
expected to find myself in a like case.
What a fellow-feeling there is between the unfortunate! The poor man will
seek in vain for true compassion at the rich man's doors; what he
receives is a sacrifice to ostentation and not true benevolence; and the
man in sorrow should not look for pity from one to whom sorrow is
unknown, if there be such a person on the earth.
My housekeeper came in to dress me, and asked me what had been the
doctor's business.
"He must have said something amusing to make you laugh."
"Yes, and I should like to tell you what it was; but before I do so I
must ask you if you know what the venereal disease is?"
"Yes, I do; Lady Montagu's footman died of it while I was with her."
"Very good, but you should pretend not to know what it is, and imitate
other ladies who assume an ignorance which well becomes them. Poor Le Duc
has got this disease."
"Poor fellow, I am sorry for him! Were you laughing at that?"
"No; it was the air of mystery assumed by the old doctor which amused
me."
"I too have a confidence to make, and when you have heard it you must
either forgive me or send me away directly."
"Here is another bother. What the devil can you have done? Quick! tell
me."
"Sir, I have robbed you!"
"What robbed me? When? How? Can you return me what you have taken? I
should not have thought you capable of such a thing. I never forgive a
robber or a liar."
"You are too hasty, sir. I am sure you will forgive me, as I robbed you
only half an hour ago, and I am now going to return to you the theft."
"You are a singular woman, my dear. Come, I will vouchsafe full
forgiveness, but restore immediately what you have taken."
"This is what I stole."
"What! that monster's letter? Did you read it?"
"Yes, of course, for otherwise I should not have committed a theft,
should I?"
"You have robbed me my secret, then, and that is a thing you cannot give
me back. You have done very wrong."
"I confess I have. My theft is all the greater in that I cannot make
restoration. Nevertheless, I promise never to speak a word of it all my
life, and that ought to gain me my pardon. Give it me quickly."
"You are a little witch. I forgive you, and here is the pledge of my
mercy." So saying I fastened my lips on hers.
"I don't doubt the validity of your pardon; you have signed with a double
and a triple seal."
"Yes; but for the future do not read, or so much as touch, any of my
papers, as I am the depositary of secrets of which I am not free to
dispose."
"Very good; but what shall I do when I find papers on the ground, as that
letter was?"
"You must pick them up, but not read them."
"I promise to do so."
"Very well, my dear; but you must forget the horrors you have read."
"Listen to me. Allow me to remember what I have read; perhaps you may be
the gainer. Let us talk over this affair, which has made my hair stand on
end. This monster of immodesty has given you two mortal blows--one in the
body and one in the soul; but that is not the worst, as she thinks that
Madame's honour is in her keeping. This, in my thinking, is the worst of
all; for, in spite of the affront, your mutual love might continue, and
the disease which the infamous creature has communicated to you would
pass off; but if the malicious woman carries out her threats, the honour
of your charming mistress is gone beyond return. Do not try to make me
forget the matter, then, but let us talk it over and see what can be
done."
I thought I was dreaming when I heard a young woman in her position
reasoning with more acuteness than Minerva displays in her colloquies
with Telemachus. She had captured not only my esteem but my respect.
"Yes, my dear," I answered, "let us think over some plan for delivering a
woman who deserves the respect of all good men from this imminent danger;
and the very thought that we have some chance of success makes me
indebted to you. Let us think of it and talk of it from noon to night.
Think kindly of Madame----, pardon her first slip, protect her honour,
and have pity on my distress. From henceforth call me no more your master
but your friend. I will be your friend till death; I swear it to you.
What you say is full of wisdom; my heart is yours. Embrace me."
"No, no, that is not necessary; we are young people, and we might perhaps
allow ourselves to go astray. I only wish for your friendship; but I do
not want you to give it to me for nothing. I wish to deserve it by giving
you solid proofs of my friendship for you. In the meanwhile I will tell
them to serve dinner, and I hope that after you have eaten something you
will be quite well."
I was astonished at her sagacity. It might all be calculated artifice,
and her aim might be to seduce me, but I did not trouble myself about
that. I found myself almost in love with her, and like to be the dupe of
her principles, which would have made themselves felt, even if she had
openly shared my love. I decided that I would add no fuel to my flames,
and felt certain that they would go out of their own accord. By leaving
my love thus desolate it would die of exhaustion. I argued like a fool. I
forgot that it is not possible to stop at friendship with a pretty woman
whom one sees constantly, and especially when one suspects her of being
in love herself. At its height friendship becomes love, and the
palliative one is forced to apply to soothe it for a moment only
increases its intensity. Such was the experience of Anacreon with
Smerdis, and Cleobulus with Badyllus. A Platonist who pretends that one
is able to live with a young woman of whom one is fond, without becoming
more than her friend, is a visionary who knows not what he says. My
housekeeper was too young, too pretty, and above all too pleasant, she
had too keen a wit, for me not to be captivated by all these qualities
conjoined; I was bound to become her lover.
We dined quietly together without saying anything about the affair we had
at heart, for nothing is more imprudent or more dangerous than to speak
in the presence of servants, who out of maliciousness or ignorance put
the worst construction on what they hear; add or diminish, and think
themselves privileged to divulge their master's secrets, especially as
they know them without having been entrusted with them.
As soon as we were alone, my dear Dubois asked me if I had sufficient
proof of Le Duc's fidelity.
"Well, my dear, he is a rascal and a profligate, full of impudence,
sharp-witted, ignorant, a fearful liar, and nobody but myself has any
power over him. However, he has one good quality, and that is blind
obedience to my orders. He defies the stick, and he would defy the
gallows if it were far enough off. When I have to ford a river on my
travels, he strips off his clothes without my telling him, and jumps in
to see if I can across in safety."
"That will do; he is just what we want under the circumstances. I will
begin by assuring you, my dear friend, as you will have me style you
thus, that Madame's honour is perfectly safe. Follow my advice, and if
the detestable widow does not take care she will be the only person put
to shame. But we want Le Duc; without him we can do nothing. Above all we
must find out how he contracted his disease, as several circumstances
might throw obstacles in the way of my design. Go to him at once and find
out all particulars, and if he has told any of the servants what is the
matter with him. When you have heard what he has to say, warn him to keep
the matter quiet."
I made no objection, and without endeavouring to penetrate her design I
went to Le Duc. I found him lying on his bed by himself. I sat down
beside him with a smile on my face, and promised to have him cured if he
would tell me all the circumstances of the case.
"With all my heart, sir, the matter happened like this. The day you sent
me to Soleure to get your letters, I got down at a roadside dairy to get
a glass of milk. It was served to me by a young wench who caught my
fancy, and I gave her a hug; she raised no objection, and in a quarter of
an hour she made me what you see."
"Have you told anyone about it?"
"I took good care not to do so, as I should only have got laughed at. The
doctor is the only one who knows what is the matter, and he tells me the
swelling will be gone down before tomorrow, and I hope I shall be able by
that time to wait upon you."
"Very good, but remember to keep your own counsel."
I proceeded to inform my Minerva of our conversation, and she said,--
"Tell me whether the widow could take her oath that she had spent the two
hours on the sofa with you."
"No, for she didn't see me, and I did not say a word."
"Very good; then sit down at your desk and write, and tell her she is a
liar, as you did not leave your room at all, and that you are making the
necessary enquiries in your household to find out who is the wretched
person she has unwittingly contaminated. Write at once and send off your
letter directly. In an hour and a half's time you can write another
letter; or rather you can copy what I am just going to put down."
"My dear, I see your plan; it is an ingenious one, but I have given my
word of honour to Madame to take no steps in the matter without first
consulting her."
"Then your word of honour must give way to the necessity of saving her
honour. Your love retards your steps, but everything depends on our
promptitude, and on the interval between the first and second letter.
Follow my advice, I beg of you, and you will know the rest from the
letter I am going to write for you to copy. Quick I write letter number
one."
I did not allow myself to reflect. I was persuaded that no better plan
could be found than that of my charming governess, and I proceeded to
write the following love-letter to the impudent monster:
"The impudence of your letter is in perfect accord with the three nights
you spent in discovering a fact which has no existence save in your own
perverse imagination. Know, cursed woman, that I never left my room, and
that I have not to deplore the shame of having passed two hours with a
being such as you. God knows with whom you did pass them, but I mean to
find out if the whole story is not the creation of your devilish brain,
and when I do so I will inform you.
"You may thank Heaven that I did not open your letter till after M. and
Madame had gone. I received it in their presence, but despising the hand
that wrote it I put it in my pocket, little caring what infamous stuff it
contained. If I had been curious enough to read it and my guests had seen
it, I would have you know that I would have gone in pursuit of you, and
at this moment you would have been a corpse. I am quite well, and have no
symptoms of any complaint, but I shall not lower myself to convince you
of my health, as your eyes would carry contagion as well as your wretched
carcase."
I shewed the letter to my dear Dubois, who thought it rather strongly
expressed, but approved of it on the whole; I then sent it to the
horrible being who had caused me such unhappiness. An hour and a half
afterwards I sent her the following letter, which I copied without
addition or subtraction:
"A quarter of an hour after I had sent off my letter, the village doctor
came to tell me that my man had need of his treatment for a disease of a
shameful nature which he had contracted quite recently. I told him to
take care of his patient; and when he had gone I went to see the invalid,
who confessed, after some pressure, that he had received this pretty
present from you. I asked him how he had contrived to obtain access to
you, and he said that he saw you going by your self in the dark into the
apartment of M.----. Knowing that I had gone to bed, and having no
further services to render me, curiosity made him go and see what you
were doing there by stealth, as if you had wanted to see the lady, who
would be in bed by that time, you would not have gone by the door leading
to the garden. He at first thought that you went there with ill-intent,
and he waited an hour to see if you stole anything, in which case he
would have arrested you; but as you did not come out, and he heard no
noise, he resolved to go in after you, and found you had left the door
open. He has assured me that he had no intentions in the way of carnal
enjoyment, and I can well believe him. He tells me he was on the point of
crying for help, when you took hold of him and put your hand over his
mouth; but he changed his plans on finding himself drawn gently to a
couch and covered with kisses. You plainly took him for somebody else,
'and,' said he, 'I did her a service which she has done ill to recompense
in this fashion.' He left you without saying a word as soon as the day
began to dawn, his motive being fear of recognition. It is easy to see
that you took my servant for myself, for in the night, you know, all cats
are grey, and I congratulate you on obtaining an enjoyment you certainly
would not have had from me, as I should most surely have recognized you
directly from your breath and your aged charms, and I can tell you it
would have gone hard with you. Luckily for you and for me, things
happened otherwise. I may tell you that the poor fellow is furious, and
intends making you a visit, from which course I believe I have no right
to dissuade him. I advise you to hear him politely, and to be in a
generous mood when he comes, as he is a determined fellow like all
Spaniards, and if you do not treat him properly he will publish the
matter, and you will have to take the consequences. He will tell you
himself what his terms are, and I daresay you will be wise enough to
grant them."
An hour after I had sent off this epistle I received a reply to my first
letter. She told me that my device was an ingenious one, but that it was
no good, as she knew what she was talking about. She defied me to shew
her that I was healthy in the course of a few days.
While we were at supper, my dear Dubois tried her utmost to cheer me up,
but all to no purpose; I was too much under the influence of strong
emotion to yield to her high spirits. We discussed the third step, which
would put an apex to the scheme and cover the impudent woman with shame.
As I had written the two letters according to my housekeeper's
instructions, I determined to follow her advice to the end. She told me
what to say to Le Duc in the morning; and she was curious to know what
sort of stuff he was made of, she begged me to let her listen behind the
curtains of my bed.
Next morning Le Due came in, and I asked if he could ride on horseback to
Soleure.
"Yes, sir," he replied, "but the doctor tells me I must begin to bathe
to-morrow."
"Very good. As soon as your horse is ready, set out and go to Madame
F----, but do not let her know you come from me, or suspect that you are
a mere emissary of mine. Say that you want to speak to her. If she
refuses to receive you, wait outside in the street; but I fancy she will
receive you, and without a witness either. Then say to her, 'You have
given me my complaint without having been asked, and I require you to
give me sufficient money to get myself cured.' Add that she made you work
for two hours in the dark, and that if it had not been for the fatal
present she had given to you, you would have said nothing about it; but
that finding yourself in such a state (you needn't be ashamed to shew
her) she ought not to be astonished at your taking such a course. If she
resists, threaten her with the law. That's all you have to do, but don't
let my name appear. Return directly without loss of time, that I may know
how you have got on."
"That's all very fine, sir, but if this jolly wench has me pitched out of
window, I shan't come home quite so speedily."
"Quite so, but you needn't be afraid; I will answer for your safety."
"It's a queer business you are sending me on."
"You are the only man I would trust to do it properly."
"I will do it all right, but I want to ask you one or two essential
questions. Has the lady really got the what d'you call it?"
"She has."
"I am sorry for her. But how am I to stick to it that she has peppered
me, when I have never spoken to her?"
"Do you usually catch that complaint by speaking, booby?"
"No, but one speaks in order to catch it, or while one is catching it."
"You spent two hours in the dark with her without a word being spoken,
and she will see that she gave this fine present to you while she thought
she was giving it to another."
"Ah! I begin to see my way, sir. But if we were in the dark, how was I to
know it was she I had to do with?
"Thus: you saw her going in by the garden door, and you marked her
unobserved. But you may be sure she won't ask you any of these
questions."
"I know what to do now. I will start at once, and I am as curious as you
to know what her answer will be. But here's another question comes into
my head. She may try to strike a bargain over the sum I am to ask for my
cure; if so, shall I be content with three hundred francs?"
"That's too much for her, take half."
"But it isn't much for two hours of such pleasure for her and six weeks
of such pain for me."
"I will make up the rest to you."
"That's good hearing. She is going to pay for damage she has done. I
fancy I see it all, but I shall say nothing. I would bet it is you to
whom she has made this fine present, and that you want to pay her out."
"Perhaps so; but keep your own counsel and set out."
"Do you know I think the rascal is unique," said my dear Dubois, emerging
from her hiding-place, "I had hard work to keep from laughing when he
said that if he were pitched out of the window he would not come back so
soon. I am sure he will acquit himself better than ever did diplomatist.
When he gets to Soleure the monster will have already dispatched her
reply to your second letter. I am curious to see how it will turn out."
"To you, my dear, the honour of this comedy belongs. You have conducted
this intrigue like a past master in the craft. It could never be taken
for the work of a novice."
"Nevertheless, it is my first and I hope it will be my last intrigue."
"I hope she won't defy me to 'give evidence of my health'."
"You are quite well so far, I think?"
"Yes; and, by the way, it is possible she may only have leucorrhoea. I am
longing to see the end of the piece, and to set my mind at rest."
"Will you give Madame an account of our scheme?"
"Yes; but I shall not be able to give you the credit you deserve."
"I only want to have credit in your eyes."
"You cannot doubt that I honour you immensely, and I shall certainly not
deprive you of the reward that is your due."
"The only reward I ask for is for you to be perfectly open with me."
"You are very wonderful. Why do you interest yourself so much in my
affairs? I don't like to think you are really inquisitive."
"You would be wrong to think that I have a defect which would lower me in
my own eyes. Be sure, sir, that I shall only be curious when you are
sad."
"But what can have made you feel so generously towards me?"
"Only your honourable conduct towards me."
"You touch me profoundly, and I promise to confide in you for the
future."
"You will make me happy."
Le Duc had scarcely gone an hour when a messenger on foot came to bring
me a second letter from the widow. He also gave me a small packet,
telling me that he had orders to wait for a reply. I sent him down to
wait, and I gave the letter to Madame Dubois, that she might see what it
contained. While she was reading it I leant upon the window, my heart
beating violently.
"Everything is getting on famously," cried my housekeeper. "Here is the
letter; read it."
"Whether I am being told the truth, or whether I am the victim of a myth
arising from your fertile imagination (for which you are too well known
all over Europe), I will regard the whole story as being true, as I am
not in a position to disprove it. I am deeply grieved to have injured an
innocent man who has never done me any ill, and I will willingly pay the
penalty by giving him a sum which will be more than sufficient to cure
him of the plague with which I infected him. I beg that you will give him
the twenty-five louis I am sending you; they will serve to restore him to
health, and to make him forget the bitterness of the pleasure I am so
sorry to have procured for him. And now are you sufficiently generous to
employ your authority as master to enjoin on your man the most absolute
secrecy? I hope so, for you have reason to dread my vengeance otherwise.
Consider that, if this affair is allowed to transpire, it will be easy
for me to give it a turn which may be far from pleasant to you, and which
will force the worthy man you are deceiving to open his eyes; for I have
not changed my opinion, as I have too many proofs of your understanding
with his wife. As I do not desire that we should meet again, I shall go
to Lucerne on the pretext of family concerns. Let me know that you have
got this letter."
"I am sorry," I said, "to have sent Le Duc, as the harpy is violent, and
I am afraid of something happening to him."
"Don't be afraid," she replied, "nothing will happen, and it is better
that they should see each other; it makes it more certain. Send her the
money directly; she will have to give it to him herself, and your
vengeance will be complete. She will not be able to entertain the
slightest suspicion, especially if Le Duc shews her her work, and in two
or three hours you will have the pleasure of hearing everything from his
lips. You have reason to bless your stars, as the honour of the woman you
love is safe. The only thing that can trouble you is the remembrance of
the widow's foul embraces, and the certainty that the prostitute has
communicated her complaint to you. Nevertheless, I hope it may prove a
slight attack and be easily cured. An inveterate leucorrhoea is not
exactly a venereal disease, and I have heard people in London say that it
was rarely contagious. We ought to be very thankful that she is going to
Lucerne. Laugh and be thankful; there is certainly a comic touch in our
drama."
"Unfortunately, it is tragi-comic. I know the human heart, and I am sure
that I must have forfeited Madame's affections."
"It is true that----; but this is not the time to be thinking of such
matters. Quick! write to her briefly and return her the twenty-five
Louis."
My reply was as follows:
"Your unworthy suspicions, your abominable design of revenge, and the
impudent letter you wrote me, are the only causes of your no doubt bitter
repentance. I hope that it will restore peace to your conscience. Our
messengers have crossed, through no fault of mine. I send you the
twenty-five Louis; you can give them to the man yourself. I could not
prevent my servant from paying you a visit, but this time you will not
keep him two hours, and you will not find it difficult to appease his
anger. I wish you a good journey, and I shall certainly flee all
occasions of meeting you, for I always avoid the horrible; and you must
know, odious woman, that it isn't everybody who endeavours to ruin the
reputation of their friends. If you see the apostolic nuncio at Lucerne,
ask him about me, and he will tell you what sort of a reputation I have
in Europe. I can assure you that Le Duc has only spoken to me of his
misadventure, and that if you treat him well he will be discreet, as he
certainly has nothing to boast of. Farewell."
My dear Minerva approved of this letter, and I sent it with the money by
the messenger.
"The piece is not yet done," said my housekeeper, "we have three scenes
more:"
"What are they?"
"The return of your Spaniard, the appearance of the disease, and the
astonishment of Madame when she hears it all."
I counted the moments for Le Duc to return, but in vain; he did not
appear. I was in a state of great anxiety, although my dear Dubois kept
telling me that the only reason he was away so long was that the widow
was out. Some people are so happily constituted that they never admit the
possibility of misfortune. I was like that myself till the age of thirty,
when I was put under the Leads. Now I am getting into my dotage and look
on the dark side of everything. I am invited to a wedding, and see nought
but gloom; and witnessing the coronation of Leopold, at Prague, I say to
myself, 'Nolo coronari'. Cursed old age, thou art only worthy of dwelling
in hell, as others before me have thought also, 'tristisque senectus'.
About half-past nine my housekeeper looked out, and saw Le Duc by the
moonlight coming along at a good pace. That news revived me. I had no
light in the room, and my housekeeper ran to hide in the recess, for she
would not have missed a word of the Spaniard's communication.
"I am dying of hunger," said he, as he came in. "I had to wait for that
woman till half-past six. When she came in she found me on the stairs and
told me to go about my business, as she had nothing to say to me.
"'That may be, fair lady,' I replied; 'but I have a few words to say to
you, and I have been waiting here for a cursed time with that intent.'
"'Wait a minute,' she replied; and then putting into her pocket a packet
and a letter which I thought was addressed in your writing, she told me
to follow her. As soon as I got to her room, I saw there was no one else
present, and I told her that she had infected me, and that I wanted the
wherewithal to pay the doctor. As she said nothing I proceeded to
convince her of my infected state, but she turned away her head, and
said,--
"'Have you been waiting for me long?
"'Since eleven, without having had a bite or a sup.'
"Thereupon she went out, and after asking the servant, whom I suppose she
had sent here, what time he had come back, she returned to me, shut the
door, and gave me the packet, telling me that it contained twenty-five
Louis for my cure, and that if I valued my life I would keep silence in
the matter. I promised to be discreet, and with that I left here, and
here I am.
"Does the packet belong to me?"
"Certainly. Have some supper and go to bed."
My dear Dubois came out of her recess and embraced me, and we spent a
happy evening. Next morning I noticed the first symptoms of the disease
the hateful widow had communicated to me, but in three or four days I
found it was of a very harmless character, and a week later I was quite
rid of it. My poor Spaniard, on the other hand, was in a pitiable case.
I passed the whole of the next morning in writing to Madame. I told her
circumstantially all I had done, in spite of my promise to consult her,
and I sent her copies of all the letters to convince her that our enemy
had gone to Lucerne with the idea that her vengeance had been only an
imaginary one. Thus I shewed her that her honour was perfectly safe. I
ended by telling her that I had noticed the first symptoms of the
disease, but that I was certain of getting rid of it in a very few days.
I sent my letter through her nurse, and in two days' time I had a few
lines from her informing me that I should see her in the course of the
week in company with her husband and M. de Chavigni.
Unhappy I! I was obliged to renounce all thoughts of love, but my Dubois,
who was with me nearly all day on account of Le Duc's illness, began to
stand me in good stead. The more I determined to be only a friend to her,
the more I was taken with her; and it was in vain that I told myself that
from seeing her without any love-making my sentiment for her would die a
natural death. I had made her a present of a ring, telling her that
whenever she wanted to get rid of it I would give her a hundred louis for
it; but this could only happen in time of need--an impossible contingency
while she continued with me, and I had no idea of sending her away. She
was natural and sincere, endowed with a ready wit and good reasoning
powers. She had never been in love, and she had only married to please
Lady Montagu. She only wrote to her mother, and to please her I read the
letters. They were full of filial piety, and were admirably written.
One day the fancy took me to ask to read the letters her mother wrote in
reply. "She never replies," said she, "For an excellent reason, namely,
that she cannot write. I thought she was dead when I came back from
England, and it was a happy surprise to find her in perfect health when I
got to Lausanne."
"Who came with you from England?"
"Nobody."
"I can't credit that. Young, beautiful, well dressed, obliged to
associate casually with all kinds of people, young men and profligates
(for there are such everywhere), how did you manage to defend yourself?"
"Defend myself? I never needed to do so. The best plan for a young woman
is never to stare at any man, to pretend not to hear certain questions
and certainly not to answer them, to sleep by herself in a room where
there is a lock and key, or with the landlady when possible. When a girl
has travelling adventures, one may safely say that she has courted them,
for it is easy to be discreet in all countries if one wishes."
She spoke justly. She assured me that she had never had an adventure and
had never tripped, as she was fortunate enough not to be of an amorous
disposition. Her naive stories, her freedom from prudery, and her sallies
full of wit and good sense, amused me from morning till night, and we
sometimes thoued each other; this was going rather far, and should have
shewn us that we were on the brink of the precipice. She talked with much
admiration of the charms of Madame, and shewed the liveliest interest in
my stories of amorous adventure. When I got on risky ground, I would make
as if I would fain spare her all unseemly details, but she begged me so
gracefully to hide nothing, that I found myself obliged to satisfy her;
but when my descriptions became so faithful as almost to set us on fire,
she would burst into a laugh, put her hand over my mouth, and fly like a
hunted gazelle to her room, and then lock herself in. One day I asked her
why she did so, and she answered, "To hinder you from coming to ask me
for what I could not refuse you at such moments."
The day before that on which M. and Madame and M. de Chavigni came to
dine with me, she asked me if I had had any amorous adventures in
Holland. I told her about Esther, and when I came to the mole and my
inspection of it, my charming curiosity ran to stop my mouth, her sides
shaking with laughter. I held her gently to me, and could not help
seeking whether she had a mole in the same place, to which she opposed
but a feeble resistance. I was prevented by my unfortunate condition from
immolating the victim on the altar of love, so we confined ourselves to a
make-believe combat which only lasted a minute; however, our eyes took in
it, and our excited feelings were by no means appeased. When we had done
she said, laughing, but yet discreetly,--
"My dear friend, we are in love with one another; and if we do not take
care we shall not long be content with this trifling."
Sighing as she spoke, she wished me good night and went to bed with her
ugly little maid. This was the first time we had allowed ourselves to be
overcome by the violence of our passion, but the first step was taken. As
I retired to rest I felt that I was in love, and foresaw that I should
soon be under the rule of my charming housekeeper.
M. and Madame--and M. Chavigni gave us an agreeable surprise, the next
day, by coming to dine with us, and we passed the time till dinner by
walking in the garden. My dear Dubois did the honours of the table, and I
was glad to see that my two male guests were delighted with her, for they
did not leave her for a moment during the afternoon, and I was thus
enabled to tell my charmer all I had written to her. Nevertheless I took
care not to say a word about the share my housekeeper had had in the
matter, for my mistress would have been mortified at the thought that her
weakness was known to her.
"I was delighted to read your letters," said she, "and to hear that that
villainous woman can no longer flatter herself upon having spent two
hours with you. But tell me, how can you have actually spent them with
her without noticing, in spite of the dark, the difference between her
and me? She is much shorter, much thinner, and ten years older. Besides,
her breath is disagreeable, and I think you know that I have not that
defect. Certainly, you could not see her hair, but you could touch, and
yet you noticed nothing! I can scarcely believe it!"
"Unhappily, it is only too true. I was inebriated with love, and thinking
only of you, I saw nothing but you."
"I understand how strong the imagination would be at first, but this
element should have been much diminished after the first or second
assault; and, above all, because she differs from me in a matter which I
cannot conceal and she cannot supply."
"You are right--a burst of Venus! When I think that I only touched two
dangling flabby breasts, I feel as if I did not deserve to live!"
"And you felt them, and they did not disgust you!"
"Could I be disgusted, could I even reflect, when I felt certain that I
held you in my arms, you for whom I would give my life. No, a rough skin,
a stinking breath, and a fortification carried with far too much ease;
nothing could moderate my amorous fury."
"What do I hear? Accursed and unclean woman, nest of impurities! And
could you forgive me all these defects?"
"I repeat, the idea that I possessed you deprived me of my thinking
faculties; all seemed to me divine."
"You should have treated me like a common prostitute, you should even
have beaten me on finding me such as you describe."
"Ah! now you are unjust!"
"That may be; I am so enraged against that monster that my anger deprives
me of reason. But now that she thinks that she had to do with a servant,
and after the degrading visit she has had she ought to die of rage and
shame. What astonishes me is her believing it, for he is shorter than you
by four inches. And how can she imagine that a servant would do it as
well as you? It's not likely. I am sure she is in love with him now.
Twenty-five louis! He would have been content with ten. What a good thing
that the poor fellow's illness happened so conveniently. But I suppose
you had to tell him all?"
"Not at all. I gave him to understand that she had made an appointment
with me in that room, and that I had really spent two hours with her, not
speaking for fear of being heard. Then, thinking over the orders I gave
him, he came to the conclusion that on finding myself diseased afterwards
I was disgusted, and being able to disavow my presence I had done so for
the sake of revenge."
"That's admirable, and the impudence of the Spaniard passes all belief.
But her impudence is the most astonishing thing of all. But supposing her
illness had been a mere trick to frighten you, what a risk the rascal
would have run!"
"I was afraid of that, as I had no symptoms of disease whatever."
"But now you really have it, and all through my fault. I am in despair."
"Be calm, my angel, my disease is of a very trifling nature. I am only
taking nitre, and in a week I shall be quite well again. I hope that then
. . . ."
"Ah! my dear friend."
"What?"
"Don't let us think of that any more, I beseech you."
"You are disgusted, and not unnaturally; but your love cannot be very
strong, Ah! how unhappy I am."
"I am more unhappy than you. I love you, and you would be thankless
indeed if you ceased to love me. Let us love each other, but let us not
endeavour to give one another proofs of our love. It might be fatal. That
accursed widow! She is gone away, and in a fortnight we shall be going
also to Bale, where we remain till the end of November."
The die is cast, and I see that I must submit to your decision, or rather
to my destiny, for none but fatal events have befallen me since I came to
Switzerland. My only consoling thought is that I have made your honour
safe."
"You have won my husband's friendship and esteem; we shall always be good
friends."
"If you are going I feel that I must go before you. That will tend to
convince the wretched author of my woe that there is nothing blame-worthy
in my friendship for you."
"You reason like an angel, and you convince me more and more of your
love. Where are you going?"
"To Italy; but I shall take Berne and Geneva on my way."
"You will not be coming to Bale, then? I am glad to hear it, in spite of
the pleasure it would give me to see you. No doubt your arrival would
give a handle for the gossips, and I might suffer by it. But if possible,
in the few days you are to remain, shew yourself to be in good spirits,
for sadness does not become you."
We rejoined the ambassador and M.---- who had not had time to think about
us, as my dear Dubois had kept them amused by her lively conversation. I
reproached her for the way in which she husbanded her wit as far as I was
concerned, and M. de Chavigni, seizing the opportunity, told us it was
because we were in love, and lovers are known to be chary of their words.
My housekeeper was not long in finding a repartee, and she again began to
entertain the two gentlemen, so that I was enabled to continue my walk
with Madame, who said,--
"Your housekeeper, my dear friend, is a masterpiece. Tell me the truth,
and I promise to give you a mark of my gratitude that will please you
before I go."
"Speak; what do you wish to know?"
"You love her and she loves you in return."
"I think you are right, but so far . . . ."
"I don't want to know any more, for if matters are not yet arranged they
soon will be, and so it comes to the same thing. If you had told me you
did not love her I should not have believed you, for I can't conceive
that a man of your age can live with a woman like that without loving
her. She is very pretty and exceedingly intelligent, she has good
spirits, talents, an excellent manner, and she speaks exceedingly well:
that is enough to charm you, and I expect you will find it difficult to
separate from her. Lebel did her a bad turn in sending her to you, as she
used to have an excellent reputation, and now she will no longer be able
to get a place with ladies in the highest society."
"I shall take her to Berne."
"That is a good idea."
Just as they were going I said that I should soon be coming to Soleure to
thank them for the distinguished reception they had given me, as I
proposed leaving in a few days. The idea of never seeing Madame again was
so painful to me that as soon as I got in I went to bed, and my
housekeeper, respecting my melancholy, retired after wishing me
good-night.
In two or three days I received a note from my charmer, bidding me call
upon them the day following at about ten o'clock, and telling me I was to
ask for dinner. I carried out her orders to the letter. M. gave me a most
friendly reception, but saying that he was obliged to go into the country
and could not be home till one o'clock, he begged me not to be offended
if he delivered me over to his wife for the morning. Such is the fate of
a miserable husband! His wife was engaged with a young girl at
tambour-work; I accepted her company on the condition that she would not
allow me to disturb her work.
The girl went away at noon, and soon after we went to enjoy the fresh air
outside the house. We sat in a summer-house from which, ourselves unseen,
we could see all the carriages that approached the house.
"Why, dearest, did you not procure me the bliss when I was in good
health."
"Because at that time my husband suspected that you turned yourself into
a waiter for my sake, and that you could not be indifferent towards me.
Your discretion has destroyed his suspicions; and also your housekeeper,
whom he believes to be your wife, and who has taken his fancy to such an
extent, that I believe he would willingly consent to an exchange, for a
few days at any rate. Would you agree?"
"Ah! if the exchange could be effected."
Having only an hour before me, and foreseeing that it would be the last I
should pass beside her, I threw myself at her feet. She was full of
affection, and put no obstacles in the way of my desires, save those
which my own feelings dictated, for I loved her too well to consent to
injure her health. I did all I could to replace the utmost bliss, but the
pleasure she enjoyed doubtless consisted in a great measure in shewing me
her superiority to the horrible widow.
When we saw the husband's carriage coming, we rose and took care that the
worthy man should not find us in the arbour. He made a thousand excuses
for not having returned sooner.
We had an excellent dinner, and at table he talked almost entirely of my
housekeeper, and he seemed moved when I said I meant to take her to
Lausanne to her mother. I took leave of them at five o'clock with a
broken heart, and from there I went to M. de Chavigni and told him all my
adventures. He had a right to be told, as he had done all in his power to
insure the success of a project which had only failed by an unexampled
fatality.
In admiration of my dear Dubois's wit--for I did not conceal the part she
played he said that old as he was he should think himself quite happy if
he had such a woman with him, and he was much pleased when I told him
that I was in love with her. "Don't give yourself the trouble, my dear
Casanova, of running from house to house to take leave," said the amiable
nobleman. "It can be done just as well at the assembly, and you need not
even stay to supper, if you don't want to."
I followed his advice, and thus saw again Madame as I thought, for the
last time, but I was wrong; I saw her ten years afterwards; and at the
proper time the reader will see where, when, how, and under what
circumstances.
Before going away, I followed the ambassador to his room to thank him as
he deserved, for his kindness, and to ask him to give me a letter of
introduction for Berne, where I thought of staying a fortnight. I also
begged him to send Lebel to me that we might settle our accounts. He told
me that Lebel should bring me a letter for M. de Muralt, the Mayor of
Thun.
When I got home, feeling sad on this, the eve of my leaving a town where
I had but trifling victories and heavy losses, I thanked my housekeeper
for waiting for me, and to give her a good night I told her that in three
days we should set out for Berne, and that my mails must be packed.
Next day, after a somewhat silent breakfast, she said,--
"You will take me with you, won't you?"
"Certainly, if you like me well enough to want to go."
"I would go with you to the end of the world, all the more as you are now
sick and sad, and when I saw you first you were blithe and well. If I
must leave you, I hope at least to see you happy first."
The doctor came in just then to tell me that my poor Spaniard was so ill
that he could not leave his bed.
"I will have him cured at Berne," said I; "tell him that we are going to
dine there the day after to-morrow."
"I must tell you, sir, that though it's only a seven leagues' journey, he
cannot possibly undertake it as he has lost the use of all his limbs."
"I am sorry to hear that, doctor."
"I dare say, but it's true."
"I must verify the matter with my own eyes;" and so saying I went to see
Le Duc.
I found the poor rascal, as the doctor had said, incapable of motion. He
had only the use of his tongue and his eyes.
"You are in a pretty state," said I to him.
"I am very ill, sir, though otherwise I feel quite well."
"I expect so, but as it is you can't move, and I want to dine at Berne
the day after to-morrow."
"Have me carried there, I shall get cured."
"You are right, I will have you carried in a litter."
"I shall look like a saint out for a walk."
I told one of the servants to look after him, and to see to all that was
necessary for our departure. I had him taken to the "Falcon" by two
horses who drew his litter.
Lebel came at noon and gave me the letter his master had written for M.
de Murat. He brought his receipts and I paid everything without
objection, as I found him an entirely honest man, and I had him to dinner
with Madame Dubois and myself. I did not feel disposed to talk, and I was
glad to see that they got on without me; they talked away admirably and
amused me, for Lebel was by no means wanting in wit. He said he was very
glad I had given him an opportunity of knowing the housekeeper, as he
could not say he had known her before, having only seen her two or three
times in passing through Lausanne. On rising from the table he asked my
permission to write to her, and she, putting in her voice, called on him
not to forget to do so.
Lebel was a good-natured man, of an honest appearance, and approaching
his fiftieth year. Just as he was going, without asking my leave, he
embraced her in the French fashion, and she seemed not to have the
slightest objection.
She told me as soon as he was gone that this worthy man might be useful
to her, and that she was delighted to enter into a correspondence with
him.
The next day was spent in putting everything in order for our short
journey, and Le Duc went off in his litter, intending to rest for the
night at four leagues from Soleure. On the day following, after I had
remembered the door-keeper, the cook, and the man-servant I was leaving
behind, I set out in my carriage with the charming Dubois, and at eleven
o'clock I arrived at the inn at Berne, where Le Duc had preceded me by
two hours. In the first place, knowing the habits of Swiss innkeepers, I
made an agreement with the landlord; and I then told the servant I had
kept, who came from Berne, to take care of Le Duc, to put him under good
medical superintendence, and to bid the doctor spare nothing to cure him
completely.
I dined with my housekeeper in her room, for she had a separate lodging,
and after sending my letter to M. de Muralt I went out for a walk.