Berne--La Mata Madame de la Saone--Sara--My Departure--Arrival at Bale
I reached an elevation from which I could look over a vast stretch of
country watered by a little river, and noticing a path leading to a kind
of stair, the fancy took me to follow it. I went down about a hundred
steps, and found forty small closets which I concluded were bathing
machines. While I was looking at the place an honest-looking fellow came
up to me, and asked me if I would like a bath. I said I would, and he
opened one of the closets, and before long I surrounded by a crowd of
young girls.
"Sir," said the man, "they all aspire to the honour of attending you
while you bathe; you have only to choose which it shall be. Half-a-crown
will pay for the bath, the girl, and your coffee."
As if I were the Grand Turk, I examined the swarm of rustic beauties, and
threw my handkerchief at the one I liked the best. We went into a closet,
and shutting the door with the most serious air, without even looking at
me, she undressed me, and put a cotton cap on my head, and as soon as she
saw me in the water she undressed herself as coolly as possible, and
without a word came into the bath. Then she rubbed me all over, except in
a certain quarter, which I had covered with my hands. When I thought I
had been manipulated sufficiently, I asked for coffee. She got out of the
bath, opened the door, and after asking for what I wanted got in again
without the slightest consciousness.
When the coffee came she got out again to take it, shut the door, and
returned to the bath, and held the tray while I was drinking, and when I
had finished she remained beside me.
Although I had taken no great notice of her, I could see that she
possessed all the qualifications a man could desire in a woman: fine
features, lively eyes, a pretty mouth, and an excellent row of teeth, a
healthy complexion, a well-rounded bosom a curved back, and all else in
the same sort. I certainly thought her hands might have been softer, but
their hardness was probably due to hard work. Furthermore, she was only
eighteen, and yet I remained cold to all her charms. How was that? That
was the question I asked myself; and I think the reason probably was that
she was too natural, too devoid of those assumed graces and coquettish
airs which women employ with so much art for the seduction of men. We
only care for artifice and false show. Perhaps, too, our senses, to be
irritated, require woman's charms to be veiled by modesty. But if,
accustomed as we are to clothe ourselves, the face is the smallest factor
in our perfect happiness, how is it that the face plays the principal
part in rendering a man amorous? Why do we take the face as an index of
a woman's beauty, and why do we forgive her when the covered parts are
not in harmony with her features? Would it not be much more reasonable
and sensible to veil the face, and to have the rest of the body naked?
Thus when we fall in love with a woman, we should only want, as the crown
of our bliss, to see a face answerable to those other charms which had
taken our fancy. There can be no doubt that that would be the better
plan, as in that case we should only be seduced by a perfect beauty, and
we should grant an easy pardon if at the lifting of the mask we found
ugliness instead of loveliness. Under those circumstances an ugly woman,
happy in exercising the seductive power of her other charms, would never
consent to unveil herself; while the pretty ones would not have to be
asked. The plain women would not make us sigh for long; they would be
easily subdued on the condition of remaining veiled, and if they did
consent to unmask, it would be only after they had practically convinced
one that enjoyment is possible without facial beauty. And it is evident
and undeniable that inconstancy only proceeds from the variety of
features. If a man did not see the face, he would always be constant and
always in love with the first woman who had taken his fancy. I know that
in the opinion of the foolish all this will seem folly, but I shall not
be on the earth to answer their objections.
When I had left the bath, she wiped me with towels, put on my shirt, and
then in the same state--that is, quite naked, she did my hair.
While I was dressing she dressed herself too, and having soon finished
she came to buckle my shoes. I then gave her half-a-crown for the bath
and six francs for herself; she kept the half-crown, but gave me back the
six francs with silent contempt. I was mortified; I saw that I had
offended her, and that she considered her behaviour entitled her to
respect. I went away in a bad enough humour.
After supper I could not help telling my dear Dubois of the adventure I
had had in the afternoon, and she made her own comments on the details.
"She can't have been pretty," said she, "for if she had been, you would
certainly have given way. I should like to see her."
"If you like I will take you there."
"I should be delighted."
"But you will have to dress like a man:"
She rose, went out without a word, and in a quarter of an hour returned
in a suit of Le Duc's, but minus the trousers, as she had certain
protuberances which would have stood out too much I told her to take a
pair of my breeches, and we settled to go to the bath next morning.
She came to wake at six o'clock. She was dressed like a man, and wore a
blue overcoat which disguised her shape admirably. I rose and went to La
Mata, as the place is called.
Animated by the pleasure the expedition gave her, my dear Dubois looked
radiant. Those who saw her must have seen through her disguise, she was
so evidently a woman; so she wrapped herself up in her overcoat as well
as she could.
As soon as we arrived we saw the master of the baths, who asked me if I
wanted a closet for four, and I replied in the affirmative. We were soon
surrounded by the girls, and I shewed my housekeeper the one who had not
seduced me; she made choice of her, and I having fixed upon a big,
determined-looking wench, we shut ourselves up in the bath.
As soon as I was undressed I went into the water with my big attendant.
My housekeeper was not so quick; the novelty of the thing astonished her,
and her expression told me that she repented of having come; but putting
a good face on it, she began to laugh at seeing me rubbed by the feminine
grenadier. She had some trouble before she could take off her chemise,
but as it is only the first step that costs, she let it fall off, and
though she held her two hands before her she dazzled me, in spite of
myself, by the beauty of her form. Her attendant prepared to treat her as
she had treated me, but she begged to be left alone; and on my following
her example she felt obliged to let me look after her.
The two Swiss girls, who had no doubt often been present at a similar
situation, began to give us a spectacle which was well known to me, but
which was quite strange to my dear Dubois.
These two Bacchantes began to imitate the caresses I lavished on my
housekeeper, who was quite astonished at the amorous fury with which my
attendant played the part of a man with the other girl. I confess I was a
little surprised myself, in spite of the transports which my fair
Venetian nun had shewn me six years before in conjunction with
C---- C----.
I could not have imagined that anything of the kind could have distracted
my attention, holding, as I did, the woman I loved, whose charms were
sufficient to captivate all the senses; but the strange strife of the two
young Menads took up her attention as well as mine.
"Your attendant," said she, "must be a boy, not a girl."
"But," said I, "you saw her breasts."
"Yes, but she may be a boy all the same."
The big Swiss girl who had heard what we had said turned round and shewed
me what I should not have credited. There could be no mistake, however.
It was a feminine membrane, but much longer than my little finger, and
stiff enough to penetrate. I explained to my dear Dubois what it was, but
to convince her I had to make her touch it. The impudent creature pushed
her shamelessness so far as to offer to try it on her, and she insisted
so passionately that I was obliged to push her away. She then turned to
her companion and satiated on her body her fury of lust. In spite of its
disgusting nature, the sight irritated us to such a degree that my
housekeeper yielded to nature and granted me all I could desire.
This entertainment lasted for two hours, and we returned to the town well
pleased with one another. On leaving the bath I gave a Louis to each of
the two Bacchantes, and we went away determined to go there no more. It
will be understood that after what had happened there could be no further
obstacle to the free progress of our love; and accordingly my dear Dubois
became my mistress, and we made each other happy during all the time we
spent at Berne. I was quite cured of my misadventure with the horrible
widow, and I found that if love's pleasures are fleeting so are its
pains. I will go farther and maintain that the pleasures are of much
longer duration, as they leave memories which can be enjoyed in old age,
whereas, if a man does happen to remember the pains, it is so slightly as
to have no influence upon his happiness.
At ten o'clock the Mayor of Thun was announced. He was dressed in the
French fashion, in black, and had a manner at once graceful and polite
that pleased me. He was middle-aged, and enjoyed a considerable position
in the Government. He insisted on my reading the letter that M. de
Chavigni had written to him on my account. It was so flattering that I
told him that if it had not been sealed I should not have had the face to
deliver it. He asked me for the next day to a supper composed of men
only, and for the day after that, to a supper at which women as well as
men would be present. I went with him to the library where we saw M.
Felix, an unfrocked monk, more of a scribbler than a scholar, and a young
man named Schmidt, who gave good promise, and was already known to
advantage in the literary world. I also had the misfortune of meeting
here a very learned man of a very wearisome kind; he knew the names of
ten thousand shells by heart, and I was obliged to listen to him for two
hours, although I was totally ignorant of his science. Amongst other
things he told me that the Aar contained gold. I replied that all great
rivers contained gold, but he shrugged his shoulders and did not seem
convinced.
I dined with M. de Muralt in company with four or five of the most
distinguished women in Berne. I liked them very well, and above all
Madame de Saconai struck me as particularly amiable and well-educated. I
should have paid my addresses to her if I had been staying long in the
so-called capital of Switzerland.
The ladies of Berne are well though not extravagantly dressed, as luxury
is forbidden by the laws. Their manners are good and they speak French
with perfect ease. They enjoy the greatest liberty without abusing it,
for in spite of gallantry decency reigns everywhere. The husbands are not
jealous, but they require their wives to be home by supper-time.
I spent three weeks in the town, my time being divided between my dear
Dubois and an old lady of eighty-five who interested me greatly by her
knowledge of chemistry. She had been intimately connected with the
celebrated Boerhaave, and she shewed me a plate of gold he had transmuted
in her presence from copper. I believed as much as I liked of this, but
she assured me that Boerhaave possessed the philosopher's stone, but that
he had not discovered the secret of prolonging life many years beyond the
century. Boerhaave, however, was not able to apply this knowledge to
himself, as he died of a polypus on the heart before he had attained the
age of perfect maturity, which Hypocrates fixes at between sixty and
seventy years. The four millions he left to his daughter, if they do not
prove that he could make gold, certainly prove that he could save it. The
worthy old woman told me he had given her a manuscript in which the whole
process was explained, but that she found it very obscure.
"You should publish it," said I.
"God forbid!"
"Burn it, then."
"I can't make up my mind to do so."
M. de Muralt took me to see the military evolutions gone through by the
citizens of Berne, who are all soldiers, and I asked him the meaning of
the bear to be seen above the gate of the town. The German for bear is
'bar', 'bern', and the animal has given its name to the town and canton
which rank second in the Republic, although it is in the first place for
its wealth and culture. It is a peninsula formed by the Aar, which rises
near the Rhine. The mayor spoke to me of the power of the canton, its
lordships and bailiwicks, and explained his own powers; he then described
the public policy, and told me of the different systems of government
which compose the Helvetic Union.
"I understand perfectly well," I said, "that each of the thirteen cantons
has its own government."
"I daresay you do," he replied, "but what you don't understand any more
than I do is, that there is a canton which has four separate
governments."
I had an excellent supper with fourteen or fifteen senators. There were
no jokes, no frivolous conversation, and no literature; but law, the
commonweal, commerce, political economy, speculation, love of country,
and the duty of preferring liberty to life, in abundance.
I felt as if I were in a new element, but I enjoyed the privilege of
being a man amidst men who were all in honour to our common humanity. But
as the supper went on, these rigid republicans began to expand, the
discourse became less measured, there were even some bursts of laughter,
owing to the wine. I excited their pity, and though they praised sobriety
they thought mine excessive. However, they respected my liberty, and did
not oblige me to drink, as the Russians, Swedes, Poles, and most northern
peoples do.
We parted at midnight--a very late hour in Switzerland, and as they
wished me a good night, each of them made me a sincere offer of his
friendship. One of the company at an early period of the supper, before
he had begun to get mellow, had condemned the Venetian Republic for
banishing the Grisons, but on his intellect being enlightened by Bacchus
he made his apologies.
"Every government," said he, "ought to know its own interests better than
strangers, and everybody should be allowed to do what he wills with his
own."
When I got home I found my housekeeper lying in my bed. I gave her a
hundred caresses in witness of my joy, and I assured her practically of
my love and gratitude. I considered her as my wife, we cherished each
other, and did not allow the thought of separating to enter our minds.
When two lovers love each other in all freedom, the idea of parting seems
impossible.
Next morning I got a letter from the worthy Madame d'Urfe, who begged me
to call on Madame de la Saone, wife of a friend of hers--a
lieutenant-general. This lady had come to Berne in the hope of getting
cured of a disease which had disfigured her in an incredible manner.
Madame de la Saone was immediately introduced to all the best society in
the place. She gave a supper every day, only asking men; she had an
excellent cook. She had given notice that she would pay no calls, and she
was quite right. I hastened to make my bow to her; but, good Heavens!
what a terrible and melancholy sight did I behold!
I saw a woman dressed with the utmost elegance, reclining voluptuously
upon a couch. As soon as she saw me she arose, gave me a most gracious
reception, and going back to her couch invited me to sit beside her. She
doubtless noticed my surprise, but being probably accustomed to the
impression which the first sight of her created, she talked on in the
most friendly manner, and by so doing diminished my aversion.
Her appearance was as follows: Madame de Saone was beautifully dressed,
and had the whitest hands and the roundest arms that can be imagined. Her
dress, which was cut very low, allowed me to see an exquisite breast of
dazzling whiteness, heightened by two rosy buds; her figure was good, and
her feet the smallest I have ever seen. All about her inspired love, but
when one's eyes turned to her face every other feeling gave way to those
of horror and pity. She was fearful. Instead of a face, one saw a
blackened and disgusting scab. No feature was distinguishable, and her
ugliness was made more conspicuous and dreadful by two fine eyes full of
fire, and by a lipless mouth which she kept parted, as if to disclose two
rows of teeth of dazzling whiteness. She could not laugh, for the pain
caused by the contraction of the muscles would doubtless have drawn tears
to her eyes; nevertheless she appeared contented, her conversation was
delightful, full of wit and humour, and permeated with the tone of good
society. She might be thirty at the most, and she had left three
beautiful young children behind in Paris. Her husband was a fine,
well-made man, who loved her tenderly, and had never slept apart from
her. It is probable that few soldiers have shewn such courage as this,
but it is to be supposed that he did not carry his bravery so far as to
kiss her, as the very thought made one shudder. A disorder contracted
after her first child-bed had left the poor woman in this sad state, and
she had borne it for ten years. All the best doctors in France had tried
in vain to cure her, and she had come to Berne to put herself into the
hands of two well-known physicians who had promised to do so. Every quack
makes promises of this sort; their patients are cured or not cured as it
happens, and provided that they pay heavily the doctor is ready enough to
lay the fault, not on his ignorance, but at the door of his poor deluded
patient.
The doctor came while I was with her, and just as her intelligent
conversation was making me forget her face. She had already began to take
his remedies, which were partly composed of mercury.
"It seems to me," said she, "that the itching has increased since I have
taken your medicines."
"It will last," said the son of AEsculapius, "till the end of the cure,
and that will take about three months."
"As long as I scratch myself," said she, "I shall be in the same state,
and the cure will never be completed."
The doctor replied in an evasive manner. I rose to take my leave, and
holding my hand she asked me to supper once for all. I went the same
evening; the poor woman took everything and drank some wine, as the
doctor had not put her on any diet. I saw that she would never be cured.
Her good temper and her charming conversational powers kept all the
company amused. I conceived that it would be possible to get used to her
face, and to live with her without being disgusted. In the evening I
talked about her to my housekeeper, who said that the beauty of her body
and her mental endowments might be sufficient to attract people to her. I
agreed, though I felt that I could never become one of her lovers.
Three or four days after, I went to a bookseller's to read the newspaper,
and was politely accosted by a fine young man of twenty, who said that
Madame de la Saone was sorry not to have seen me again at supper.
"You know the lady?"
"I had the honour to sup at her house with you."
"True; I remember you."
"I get her the books she likes, as I am a bookseller, and not only do I
sup with her every evening, but we breakfast together every morning
before she gets up."
"I congratulate you. I bet you are in love with her."
"You are pleased to jest, but she is pleasanter than you think."
"I do not jest at all, but I would wager she would not have the courage
to push things to an extremity."
"Perhaps you would lose."
"Really? I should be very glad to."
"Let us make a bet."
"How will you convince me I have lost?"
"Let us bet a louis, and you must promise to be discreet."
"Very good."
"Come and sup at her house this evening, and I will tell you something."
"You shall see me there."
When I got home I told my housekeeper what I had heard.
"I am curious to know," said she, "how he will convince you." I promised
to tell her, which pleased her very much.
I was exact to my appointment. Madame de la Saone reproached me
pleasantly for my absence, and gave me a delicious supper. The young
bookseller was there, but as his sweetheart did not speak a word to him
he said nothing and passed unnoticed.
After supper we went out together, and he told me on the way that if I
liked he would satisfy me the next morning at eight o'clock. "Call here,
and the lady's maid will tell you her mistress is not visible, but you
have only to say that you will wait, and that you will go into the
ante-chamber. This room has a glass door commanding a view of madame's
bed, and I will take care to draw back the curtains over the door so that
you will be able to see at your ease all that passes between us. When the
affair is over I shall go out by another door, she will call her maid,
and you will be shewn in. At noon, if you will allow me, I will bring you
some books to the 'Falcon,' and if you find that you have lost you shall
pay me my louis." I promised to carry out his directions, and we parted.
I was curious to see what would happen, though I by no means regarded it
as an impossibility; and on my presenting myself at eight o'clock, the
maid let me in as soon as I said that I could wait. I found a corner of
the glass door before which there was no curtain, and on applying my eye
to the place I saw my young adventurer holding his conquest in his arms
on the bed. An enormous nightcap entirely concealed her face--an
excellent precaution which favoured the bookseller's enterprise.
When the rascal saw that I had taken up my position, he did not keep me
waiting, for, getting up, he presented to my dazzled gaze, not only the
secret treasures of his sweetheart, but his own also. He was a small man,
but where the lady was most concerned he was a Hercules, and the rogue
seemed to make a parade of his proportions as if to excite my jealousy.
He turned his victim round so that I should see her under all aspects,
and treated her manfully, while she appeared to respond to his ardour
with all her might. Phidias could not have modelled his Venus on a finer
body; her form was rounded and voluptuous, and as white as Parian marble.
I was affected in a lively manner by the spectacle, and re-entered my
lodging so inflamed that if my dear Dubois had not been at hand to quench
my fire I should have been obliged to have extinguished it in the baths
of La Mata.
When I had told her my tale she wanted to know the hero of it, and at
noon she had that pleasure. The young bookseller brought me some books I
had ordered, and while paying him for them I gave him our bet and a Louis
over and above as a mark of my satisfaction at his prowess. He took it
with a smile which seemed to shew that he thought I ought to think myself
lucky to have lost. My housekeeper looked at him for some time, and asked
if he knew her; he said he did not.
"I saw you when you were a child," said she. "You are the son of M.
Mignard, minister of the Gospel. You must have been ten when I saw you."
"Possibly, madam."
"You did not care to follow your father's profession, then?"
"No madam, I feel much more inclined to the worship of the creature than
to that of the Creator, and I did not think my father's profession would
suit me."
"You are right, for a minister of the Gospel ought to be discreet, and
discretion is a restraint."
This stroke made him blush, but we did not give him time to lose courage.
I asked him to dine with me, and without mentioning the name of Madame de
la Saone he told his amorous adventures and numerous anecdotes about the
pretty women of Berne.
After he had gone, my housekeeper said that once was quite enough to see
a young man of his complexion. I agreed with her, and had no more to do
with him; but I heard that Madame de Saone took him to Paris and made his
fortune. Many fortunes are made in this manner, and there are some which
originated still more nobly. I only returned to Madame de la Saone to
take my leave, as I shall shortly relate.
I was happy with my charmer, who told me again and again that with me she
lived in bliss. No fears or doubts as to the future troubled her mind;
she was certain, as I was, that we should never leave each other; and she
told me she would pardon all the infidelities I might be guilty of,
provided I made full confession. Hers, indeed, was a disposition with
which to live in peace and content, but I was not born to enjoy such
happiness.
After we had been a fortnight at Berne, my housekeeper received a letter
from Soleure. It came from Lebel. As I saw she read it with great
attention, I asked her what it was about.
"Take it and read it," said she; and she sat down in front of me to read
my soul by the play of my features.
Lebel asked her, in concise terms, if she would become his wife.
"I have only put off the proposition," said he, "to set my affairs in
order, and to see if I could afford to marry you, even if the consent of
the ambassador were denied us. I find I am rich enough to live well in
Berne or elsewhere without the necessity of my working; however I shall
not have to face the alternative, for at the first hint of the matter M.
de Chavigni gave his consent with the best grace imaginable."
He went on begging her not to keep him long waiting for a reply, and to
tell him in the first place if she consented; in the second, whether she
would like to live at Berne and be mistress in her own house, or whether
she would prefer to return to Soleure and live with the ambassador, which
latter plan might bring them some profit. He ended by declaring that
whatever she had would be for her sole use, and that he would give her a
dower of a hundred thousand francs. He did not say a word about me.
"Dearest," said I, "you are at perfect liberty to choose your own course,
but I cannot contemplate your leaving me without considering myself as
the most unhappy of men."
"And if I lose you I should be the most unhappy of women; for if you love
me I care not whether we are married or no."
"Very good; but what answer are you going to make."
"You shall see my letter to-morrow. I shall tell him politely but plainly
that I love you, that I am yours, that I am happy, and that it is thus
impossible for me to accept his flattering propositions. I shall also say
that I appreciate his generosity, and that if I were wise I should accept
him, but that being the slave of my love for you I can only follow my
inclination."
"I think you give an excellent turn to your letter. In refusing such an
offer you could not have better reasons than those you give, and it would
be absurd to try and persuade him that we are not lovers, as the thing is
self-evident. Nevertheless, my darling, the letter saddens me."
"Why, dearest?"
"Because I have not a hundred thousand francs to offer you."
"I despise them; and if you were to offer me such a sum, I should only
accept it to lay it at your feet. You are certainly not destined to
become miserable, but if that should come to pass, be sure that I should
be only too happy to share your misery."
We fell into one another's arms, and love made us taste all its
pleasures. Nevertheless, in the midst of bliss, some tinge of sadness
gained upon our souls. Languishing love seems to redouble its strength,
but it is only in appearance; sadness exhausts love more than enjoyment.
Love is a madcap who must be fed on laughter and mirth, otherwise he dies
of inanition.
Next day my sweetheart wrote to Lebel in the sense she had decided on,
and I felt obliged to write M. de Chavigni a letter in which love,
sentiment, and philosophy were mingled. I did not conceal from him that I
loved the woman whom Lebel coveted to distraction, but I said that as a
man of honour I would rather die than deprive my sweetheart of such solid
advantages.
My letter delighted the housekeeper, for she was anxious to know what the
ambassador thought of the affair, which needed much reflection.
I got on the same day the letters of introduction I had asked Madame
d'Urfe to give me, and I determined, to the joy of my dear Dubois, to set
out for Lausanne. But we must hark back a little.
When one is sincerely in love, one thinks the beloved object full of
deserts, and the mind, the dupe of the feelings, thinks all the world
jealous of its bliss.
A. M. de F----, member of the Council of the Two Hundred, whom I had met
at Madame de la Saone's, had become my friend. He came to see me and I
introduced him to my dear Dubois, whom he treated with the same
distinction he would have used towards my wife. He had presented us to
his wife, and had come several times to see us with her and her daughter
Sara. Sara was only thirteen, but she was extremely precocious, dark
complexioned, and full of wit; she was continually uttering naivetes, of
which she understood the whole force, although looking at her face one
would have thought her perfectly innocent. She excelled in the art of
making her father and mother believe in her innocence, and thus she
enjoyed plenty of liberty.
Sara had declared that she was in love with my housekeeper, and as her
parents laughed at her she lavished her caresses on my dear Dubois. She
often came to breakfast with us, and when she found us in bed she would
embrace my sweetheart, whom she called her wife, passing her hand over
the coverlet to tickle her, telling her that she was her wife, and that
she wanted to have a child. My sweetheart laughed and let her go on.
One day I told her jokingly that she would make me jealous, that I
thought she really was a man, and that I was going to make sure. The sly
little puss told me that I was making a mistake, but her hand seemed
rather to guide mine than to oppose it. That made me curious, and my mind
was soon set at rest as to her sex. Perceiving that she had taken me in
and got exactly what she wanted, I drew back my hand, and imparted my
suspicions to my housekeeper, who said I was right. However, as the
little girl had no part in my affections, I did not push the thing any
farther.
Two or three days after, this girl came in as I was getting up, and said
in her usual simple way,
"Now that you know I am not really a man you can not be jealous or have
objection to my taking your place beside my little wife, if she will let
me."
My housekeeper, who looked inclined to laugh, said,
"Come along."
In the twinkling of an eye she was undressed and in the arms of her
little wife, whom she proceeded to treat as an amorous husband. My
sweetheart laughed, and Sara, having contrived in the combat to rid
herself of her chemise and the coverlet, displayed herself to me without
any veil, while at the same time she shewed me all the beauties of my
sweetheart. This sight inflamed me. I shut the door, and made the little
hussy witness of my ardour with my sweetheart. Sara looked on
attentively, playing the part of astonishment to perfection, and when I
had finished she said, with the utmost simplicity,
"Do it again:"
"I can't, my dear; don't you see I am a dead man?"
"That's very funny," she cried; and with the most perfect innocence she
came over, and tried to effect my resurrection.
When she had succeeded in placing me in the wished-for condition, she
said, "Now go in;" and I should doubtless have obeyed, but my housekeeper
said, "No, dearest, since you have effected its resurrection, you must
make it die again."
"I should like to," said she, "but I am afraid I have not got enough
room;" and so saying she placed herself in a position to shew me that she
was speaking the truth, and that if she did not make me die it was not
her fault.
Imitating her simplicity I approached her, as if I wished to oblige her,
but not to go too far; but not finding any resistance I accomplished the
act in all its forms, without her giving the slightest evidence of pain,
without any of the accidents of a first trial, but, on the contrary, with
all the marks of the utmost enjoyment.
Although I was sure of the contrary, I kept my self-possession enough to
tell my housekeeper that Sara had given me what can only be given once,
and she pretended to believe me.
When the operation was finished, we had another amusing scene. Sara
begged us not to say a word about it to her papa or mamma, as they would
be sure to scold her as they had scolded her when she got her ears
pierced without asking their leave.
Sara knew that we saw through her feigned simplicity, but she pretended
not to do so as it was to her own advantage. Who could have instructed
her in the arts of deceit? Nobody; only her natural wit, less rare in
childhood than in youth, but always rare and astonishing. Her mother said
her simplicities shewed that she would one day be very intelligent, and
her father maintained that they were signs of her stupidity. But if Sara
had been stupid, our bursts of laughter would have disconcerted her; and
she would have died for shame, instead of appearing all the better
pleased when her father deplored her stupidity. She would affect
astonishment, and by way of curing one sort of stupidity she corroborated
it by displaying another. She asked us questions to which we could not
reply, and laughed at her instead, although it was evident that before
putting such questions she must have reasoned over them. She might have
rejoined that the stupidity was on our side, but by so doing she would
have betrayed herself.
Lebel did not reply to his sweetheart, but M. de Chavigni wrote me a
letter of four pages. He spoke like a philosopher and an experienced man
of the world.
He shewed me that if I were an old man like him, and able to insure a
happy and independent existence to my sweetheart after my death, I should
do well to keep her from all men, especially as there was so perfect a
sympathy between us; but that as I was a young man, and did not intend to
bind myself to her by the ties of marriage, I should not only consent to
a union which seemed for her happiness, but that as a man of honour it
was my duty to use my influence with her in favour of the match. "With
your experience," said the kind old gentleman, "you ought to know that a
time would come when you would regret both having lost this opportunity,
for your love is sure to become friendship, and then another love will
replace that which you now think as firm as the god Terminus.
"Lebel," he added, "has told me his plans, and far from disapproving, I
have encouraged him, for your charming friend won my entire esteem in the
five or six times I had the pleasure of seeing her with you. I shall be
delighted, therefore, to have her in my house, where I can enjoy her
conversation without transgressing the laws of propriety. Nevertheless,
you will understand that at my age I have formed no desires, for I could
not satisfy them even if their object were propitious." He ended by
telling me that Lebel had not fallen in love in a young man's style, that
he had reflected on what he was doing, and that he would consequently not
hurry her, as she would see in the letter he was going to send her. A
marriage ought always to be undertaken in cold blood.
I gave the letter to my housekeeper, who read it attentively, and gave it
back to me quite coolly.
"What do you think of his advice, dearest?"
"I think I had better follow it: he says there is no hurry, and delay is
all we want. Let us love each other and think only of that. This letter
is written with great wisdom, but I cannot imagine our becoming
indifferent to each other, though I know such a thing is possible."
"Never indifferent; you make a mistake there."
"Well, friends, then; and that is not much better after being lovers."
"But friendship, dearest, is never indifferent. Love, it is true, may be
in its composition. We know it, as it has been thus from the beginning of
the world."
"Then the ambassador was right. Repentance might come and torment us when
love had been replaced by calmer friendship."
"If you think so, let us marry each other to-morrow, and punish thereby
the vices of our human nature."
"Yes, we will marry, but there is no hurry; fearing lest hymen should
quicken the departure of love, let us enjoy our happiness while we can."
"You speak admirably, my angel, and deserve the greatest good fortune."
"I wish for no greater than what you procure me."
We went to bed, continuing our discussions, and when we were in each
other's arms we made an arrangement which suited us very well.
"Lausanne," said she, "is a little town where you would meet with the
warmest hospitality, and during your fortnight's stay you will have
nothing to do but to make visits and to go to suppers. I am known to all
the nobility, and the Duke of Rosebury, who wearied me with his
love-making, is still there. My appearance with you will make everybody
talk, and it will be as annoying for you as for me. My mother lives
there, too. She would say nothing, but in her heart she would be
ill-pleased to see me as the housekeeper of a man like you, for common
sense would inform everyone that I was your mistress."
I thought she was right, and that it would be well to respect the rules
of society. We decided that she should go to Lausanne by herself and stay
with her mother, that in two or three days I should follow her, and
should live by myself, as long as I liked, having full liberty to see her
at her mother's.
"When you leave Lausanne," said she, "I will rejoin you at Geneva, and
then we will travel together where you please and as long as our love
lasts."
In two days she started early in the morning, sure of my constancy, and
congratulating herself on her discretion. I was sad at her leaving me,
but my calls to take leave served to rouse me from my grief. I wished to
make M. Haller's acquaintance before I left Switzerland, and the mayor,
M. de Muralt, gave me a letter of introduction to him very handsomely
expressed. M. de Haller was the bailiff of Roche.
When I called to take leave of Madame de la Saone I found her in bed, and
I was obliged to remain by her bedside for a quarter of an hour. She
spoke of her disease, and gave the conversation such a turn that she was
able with perfect propriety to let me see that the ravages of the disease
had not impaired the beauty of her body. The sight convinced me that
Mignard had need of less courage than I thought, and I was within an inch
of doing her the same service. It was easy enough to look only at her
body, and it would have been difficult to behold anything more beautiful.
I know well that prudes and hypocrites, if they ever read these Memoirs,
will be scandalized at the poor lady, but in shewing her person so
readily she avenged herself on the malady which had disfigured her.
Perhaps, too, her goodness of heart and politeness told her what a trial
it was to look at her face, and she wished to indemnify the man who
disguised his feelings of repugnance by shewing him what gifts nature had
given her. I am sure, ladies, that the most prudish--nay, the most
virtuous, amongst you, if you were unfortunate enough to be so
monstrously deformed in the face, would introduce some fashion which
would conceal your ugliness, and display those beauties which custom
hides from view. And doubtless Madame de la Saone would have been more
chary of her person if she had been able to enchant with her face like
you.
The day I left I dined with M---- I----, and was severely taken to task by
pretty Sara for having sent her little wife away before me. The reader
will see how I met her again at London three years later. Le Duc was
still in the doctor's hands, and very weak; but I made him go with me, as
I had a good deal of property, and I could not trust it to anybody else.
I left Berne feeling naturally very sad. I had been happy there, and to
this day the thought of it is a pleasant one.
I had to consult Dr. Herrenschwand about Madame d'Urfe, so I stopped at
Morat, where he lived, and which is only four leagues from Berne. The
doctor made me dine with him that I might try the fish of the lake, which
I found delicious. I had intended to go on directly after dinner, but I
was delayed by a curiosity of which I shall inform the reader.
After I had given the doctor a fee of two Louis for his advice, in
writing, on a case of tapeworm, he made me walk with him by the Avanches
road, and we went as far as the famous mortuary of Morat.
"This mortuary," said the doctor, "was constructed with part of the bones
of the Burgundians, who perished here at the well-known battle lost by
Charles the Bold."
The Latin inscription made me laugh.
"This inscription," said I, "contains an insulting jest; it is almost
burlesque, for the gravity of an inscription should not allow of
laughter."
The doctor, like a patriotic Swiss, would not allow it, but I think it
was false shame on his part. The inscription ran as follows, and the
impartial reader can judge of its nature:
"Deo. opt. Max. Caroli inclyti et fortisimi Burgundie duds
exercitus Muratum obsidens, ab Helvetiis cesus, hoc sui
monumentum reliquit anno MCDLXXVI."
Till then I had had a great idea of Morat. Its fame of seven centuries,
three sieges sustained and repulsed, all had given me a sublime notion of
it; I expected to see something and saw nothing.
"Then Morat has been razed to the ground?" said I to the doctor.
"Not at all, it is as it always has been, or nearly so."
I concluded that a man who wants to be well informed should read first
and then correct his knowledge by travel. To know ill is worse than not
to know at all, and Montaigne says that we ought to know things well.
But it was the following comic adventure which made me spend the night at
Morat:
I found at the inn a young maid who spoke a sort of rustic Italian. She
struck me by her great likeness to my fair stocking-seller at Paris. She
was called Raton, a name which my memory has happily preserved. I offered
her six francs for her favours, but she refused the money with a sort of
pride, telling me that I had made a mistake and that she was an honest
girl.
"It may be so," said I, and I ordered my horses to be put in. When the
honest Raton saw me on the point of leaving, she said, with an air that
was at once gay and timid, that she wanted two louis, and if I liked to
give her them and pass the night with her I should be well content.
"I will stay, but remember to be kind."
"I will."
When everybody had gone to bed, she came into my room with a little
frightened manner, calculated to redouble my ardour, but by great good
luck, feeling I had a necessity, I took the light and ran to the place
where I could satisfy it. While there I amused myself by reading
innumerable follies one finds written in such places, and suddenly my
eyes lighted on these words:--
"This tenth day of August, 1760, the wretched Raton gave me the
what-d'-you-call-it: reader, beware."
I was almost tempted to believe in miracles, for I could not think there
were two Ratons in the same house. I returned gaily to my room and found
my sweetheart in bed without her chemise. I went to the place beside the
bed where she had thrown it down, and as soon as she saw me touching it
she begged me in a fright not to do so, as it was not clean. She was
right, for it bore numerous marks of the disease which infected her. It
may be imagined that my passion cooled, and that I sent her away in a
moment; but I felt at the same time the greatest gratitude to what is
called chance, for I should have never thought of examining a girl whose
face was all lilies and roses, and who could not be more than eighteen.
Next day I went to Roche to see the celebrated Haller.