The Minister of Foreign Affairs M. de Boulogne, the
Comptroller--M. le Duc de Choiseul--M. Paris du Vernai--
Establishment of the Lottery--My Brother’s Arrival at Paris;
His Reception by the Academy
Once more, then, I was in Paris, which I ought to regard as my fatherland, since I could return no more to that land which gave me birth: an unworthy country, yet, in spite of all, ever dear to me, possibly on account of early impressions and early prejudices, or possibly because the beauties of Venice are really unmatched in the world. But mighty Paris is a place of good luck or ill, as one takes it, and it was my part to catch the favouring gale.
Paris was not wholly new to me, as my readers know I had spent two years there, but I must confess that, having then no other aim than to pass the time pleasantly, I had merely devoted myself to pleasure and enjoyment. Fortune, to whom I had paid no court, had not opened to me her golden doors; but I now felt that I must treat her more reverently, and attach myself to the throng of her favoured sons whom she loads with her gifts. I understood now that the nearer one draws to the sun the more one feels the warmth of its rays. I saw that to attain my end I should have to employ all my mental and physical talents, that I must make friends of the great, and take cue from all whom I found it to be my interest to please. To follow the plans suggested by these thoughts, I saw that I must avoid what is called bad company, that I must give up my old habits and pretensions, which would be sure to make me enemies, who would have no scruple in representing me as a trifler, and not fit to be trusted with affairs of any importance.
I think I thought wisely, and the reader, I hope, will be of the same opinion. “I will be reserved,” said I, “in what I say and what I do, and thus I shall get a reputation for discretion which will bring its reward.”
I was in no anxiety on the score of present needs, as I could reckon on a monthly allowance of a hundred crowns, which my adopted father, the good and generous M. de Bragadin, sent me, and I found this sum sufficient in the meanwhile, for with a little self-restraint one can live cheaply at Paris, and cut a good figure at the same time. I was obliged to wear a good suit of clothes, and to have a decent lodging; for in all large towns the most important thing is outward show, by which at the beginning one is always judged. My anxiety was only for the pressing needs of the moment, for to speak the truth I had neither clothes nor linen--in a word, nothing.
If my relations with the French ambassador are recalled, it will be found natural that my first idea was to address myself to him, as I knew him sufficiently well to reckon on his serving me.
Being perfectly certain that the porter would tell me that my lord was engaged, I took care to have a letter, and in the morning I went to the Palais Bourbon. The porter took my letter, and I gave him my address and returned home.
Wherever I went I had to tell the story of my escape from The Leads. This became a service almost as tiring as the flight itself had been, as it took me two hours to tell my tale, without the slightest bit of fancy-work; but I had to be polite to the curious enquirers, and to pretend that I believed them moved by the most affectionate interest in my welfare. In general, the best way to please is to take the benevolence of all with whom one has relation for granted.
I supped at Silvia’s, and as the evening was quieter than the night before, I had time to congratulate myself on all the friendship they shewed me. The girl was, as I had said, fifteen years old, and I was in every way charmed with her. I complimented the mother on the good results of her education, and I did not even think of guarding myself from falling a victim to her charms. I had taken so lately such well-founded and philosophical resolutions, and I was not yet sufficiently at my ease to value the pain of being tempted. I left at an early hour, impatient to see what kind of an answer the minister had sent me. I had not long to wait, and I received a short letter appointing a meeting for two o’clock in the afternoon. It may be guessed that I was punctual, and my reception by his excellence was most flattering. M. de Bernis expressed his pleasure at seeing me after my fortunate escape, and at being able to be of service to me. He told me that M---- M---- had informed him of my escape, and he had flattered himself that the first person I should go and see in Paris would be himself. He shewed me the letters from M---- M---- relating to my arrest and escape, but all the details in the latter were purely imaginary and had no foundation in fact. M---- M---- was not to blame, as she could only write what she had heard, and it was not easy for anyone besides myself to know the real circumstances of my escape. The charming nun said that, no longer buoyed up by the hope of seeing either of the men who alone had made her in love with life, her existence had become a burden to her, and she was unfortunate in not being able to take any comfort in religion. “C--C---- often comes to see me,” she said, “but I grieve to say she is not happy with her husband.”
I told M. de Bernis that the account of my flight from The Leads, as told by our friend, was wholly inaccurate, and I would therefore take the liberty of writing out the whole story with the minutest details. He challenged me to keep my word, assuring me that he would send a copy to M---- M----, and at the same time, with the utmost courtesy, he put a packet of a hundred Louis in my hand, telling me that he would think what he could do for me, and would advise me as soon as he had any communication to make.
Thus furnished with ample funds, my first care was for my dress; and this done I went to work, and in a week sent my generous protector the result, giving him permission to have as many copies printed as he liked, and to make any use he pleased of it to interest in my behalf such persons as might be of service to me.
Three weeks after, the minister summoned me to say that he had spoken of me to M. Erizzo, the Venetian ambassador, who had nothing to say against me, but for fear of embroiling himself with the State Inquisitors declined to receive me. Not wanting anything from him--his refusal did me no harm. M. de Bernis then told me that he had given a copy of my history to Madame la Marquise de Pompadour, and he promised to take the first opportunity of presenting me to this all-powerful lady. “You can present yourself, my dear Casanova,” added his excellence, “to the Duc de Choiseul, and M. de Boulogne, the comptroller. You will be well received, and with a little wit you ought to be able to make good use of the letter. He himself will give you the cue, and you will see that he who listens obtains. Try to invent some useful plan for the royal exchequer; don’t let it be complicated or chimerical, and if you don’t write it out at too great length I will give you my opinion on it.”
I left the minister in a pleased and grateful mood, but extremely puzzled to find a way of increasing the royal revenue. I knew nothing of finance, and after racking my brains all that I could think of was new methods of taxation; but all my plans were either absurd or certain to be unpopular, and I rejected them all on consideration.
As soon as I found out that M. de Choiseul was in Paris I called on him. He received me in his dressing-room, where he was writing while his valet did his hair. He stretched his politeness so far as to interrupt himself several times to ask me questions, but as soon as I began to reply his grace began to write again, and I suspect did not hear what I was saying; and though now and again he seemed to be looking at me, it was plain that his eyes and his thoughts were occupied on different objects. In spite of this way of receiving visitors--or me, at all events, M. de Choiseul was a man of wit.
When he had finished writing he said in Italian that M. de Bernis had told him of some circumstances of my escape, and he added,
“Tell me how you succeeded.”
“My lord, it would be too long a story; it would take me at least two hours, and your grace seems busy.”
“Tell me briefly about it.”
“However much I speak to the point, I shall take two hours.”
“You can keep the details for another time.”
“The story is devoid of interest without the details”
“Well, well, you can tell me the whole story in brief, without losing much of the interest.”
“Very good; after that I can say no more. I must tell your lordship, then, that, the State Inquisitors shut me up under the Leads; that after fifteen months and five days of imprisonment I succeeded in piercing the roof; that after many difficulties I reached the chancery by a window, and broke open the door; afterwards I got to St. Mark’s Place, whence, taking a gondola which bore me to the mainland, I arrived at Paris, and have had the honour to pay my duty to your lordship.”
“But.... what are The Leads?”
“My lord, I should take a quarter of an hour, at least, to explain.”
“How did you pierce the roof?”
“I could not tell your lordship in less than half an hour.”
“Why were you shut up?”
“It would be a long tale, my lord.”
“I think you are right. The interest of the story lies chiefly in the details.”
“I took the liberty of saying as much to your grace.”
“Well, I must go to Versailles, but I shall be delighted if you will come and see me sometimes. In the meanwhile, M. Casanova, think what I can do for you.”
I had been almost offended at the way in which M. de Choiseul had received me, and I was inclined to resent it; but the end of our conversation, and above all the kindly tone of his last words, quieted me, and I left him, if not satisfied, at least without bitterness in my heart.
From him I went to M. de Boulogne’s, and found him a man of quite a different stamp to the duke--in manners, dress, and appearance. He received me with great politeness, and began by complimenting me on the high place I enjoyed in the opinion of M. de Bernis, and on my skill in matters of finance.
I felt that no compliment had been so ill deserved, and I could hardly help bursting into laughter. My good angel, however, made me keep my countenance.
M. de Boulogne had an old man with him, every feature bore the imprint of genius, and who inspired me with respect.
“Give me your views;” said the comptroller, “either on paper or ‘viva voce’. You will find me willing to learn and ready to grasp your ideas. Here is M. Paris du Vernai, who wants twenty millions for his military school; and he wishes to get this sum without a charge on the state or emptying the treasury.”
“It is God alone, sir, who has the creative power.”
“I am not a god,” said M. du Vernai, “but for all that I have now and then created but the times have changed.”
“Everything,” I said, “is more difficult than it used to be; but in spite of difficulties I have a plan which would give the king the interest of a hundred millions.”
“What expense would there be to the Crown?”
“Merely the cost of receiving.”
“The nation, then, would furnish the sum in question?”
“Undoubtedly, but voluntarily.”
“I know what you are thinking of.”
“You astonish me, sir, as I have told nobody of my plan.”
“If you have no other engagement, do me the honour of dining with me to-morrow, and I will tell you what your project is. It is a good one, but surrounded, I believe, with insuperable difficulties. Nevertheless, we will talk it over and see what can be done. Will you come?”
“I will do myself that honour.”
“Very good, I will expect you at Plaisance.”
After he had gone, M. de Boulogne praised his talents and honesty. He was the brother of M. de Montmartel, whom secret history makes the father of Madame de Pompadour, for he was the lover of Madame Poisson at the same time as M. le Normand.
I left the comptroller’s and went to walk in the Tuileries, thinking over the strange stroke of luck which had happened to me. I had been told that twenty millions were wanted, and I had boasted of being able to get a hundred, without the slightest idea of how it was to be done; and on that a well-known man experienced in the public business had asked me to dinner to convince me that he knew what my scheme was. There was something odd and comic about the whole affair; but that corresponded very well with my modes of thought and action. “If he thinks he is going to pump me,” said I, “he will find himself mistaken. When he tells me what the plan is, it will rest with me to say he has guessed it or he is wrong as the inspiration of the moment suggests. If the question lies within my comprehension I may, perhaps, be able to suggest something new; and if I understand nothing I will wrap myself up in a mysterious silence, which sometimes produces a good effect. At all events, I will not repulse Fortune when she appears to be favourable to me.”
M. de Bernis had only told M. de Boulogne that I was a financier to get me a hearing, as otherwise he might have declined to see me. I was sorry not to be master, at least, of the jargon of the business, as in that way men have got out of a similar difficulty, and by knowing the technical terms, and nothing more, have made their mark. No matter, I was bound to the engagement. I must put a good face on a bad game, and if necessary pay with the currency of assurance. The next morning I took a carriage, and in a pensive mood I told the coachman to take me to M. du Vernai’s, at Plaisance--a place a little beyond Vincennes.
I was set down at the door of the famous man who, forty years ago, had rescued France on the brink of the precipice down which Law had almost precipitated her. I went in and saw a great fire burning on the hearth, which was surrounded by seven or eight persons, to whom I was introduced as a friend of the minister for foreign affairs and of the comptroller; afterwards he introduced these gentlemen to me, giving to each his proper title, and I noted that four of them were treasury officials. After making my bow to each, I gave myself over to the worship of Harpocrates, and without too great an air of listening was all ears and eyes.
The conversation at first was of no special interest as they were talking of the Seine being frozen over, the ice being a foot thick. Then came the recent death of M. de Fontenelle, then the case of Damien, who would confess nothing, and of the five millions his trial would cost the Crown. Then coming to war they praised M. de Soubise, who had been chosen by the king to command the army. Hence the transition was easy to the expenses of the war, and how they were to be defrayed.
I listened and was weary, for all they said was so full of technicalities that I could not follow the meaning; and if silence can ever be imposing, my determined silence of an hour and a half’s duration ought to have made me seem a very important personage in the eyes of these gentlemen. At last, just as I was beginning to yawn, dinner was announced, and I was another hour and a half without opening my mouth, except to do honour to an excellent repast. Directly the dessert had been served, M. du Vernai asked me to follow him into a neighbouring apartment, and to leave the other guests at the table. I followed him, and we crossed a hall where we found a man of good aspect, about fifty years old, who followed us into a closet and was introduced to me by M. du Vernai under the name of Calsabigi. Directly after, two superintendents of the treasury came in, and M. du Vernai smilingly gave me a folio book, saying,
“That, I think, M. Casanova, is your plan.”
I took the book and read, Lottery consisting of ninety tickets, to be drawn every month, only one in eighteen to be a winning number. I gave him back the book and said, with the utmost calmness,
“I confess, sir, that is exactly my idea.”
“You have been anticipated, then; the project is by M. de Calsabigi here.”
“I am delighted, not at being anticipated, but to find that we think alike; but may I ask you why you have not carried out the plan?”
“Several very plausible reasons have been given against it, which have had no decisive answers.”
“I can only conceive one reason against it,” said I, coolly; “perhaps the king would not allow his subjects to gamble.”
“Never mind that, the king will let his subjects gamble as much as they like: the question is, will they gamble?”
“I wonder how anyone can have any doubt on that score, as the winners are certain of being paid.”
“Let us grant, then, that they will gamble: how is the money to be found?”
“How is the money to be found? The simplest thing in the world. All you want is a decree in council authorizing you to draw on the treasury. All I want is for the nation to believe that the king can afford to pay a hundred millions.”
“A hundred millions!”
“Yes, a hundred millions, sir. We must dazzle people.”
“But if France is to believe that the Crown can afford to pay a hundred millions, it must believe that the Crown can afford to lose a hundred millions, and who is going to believe that? Do you?”
“To be sure I do, for the Crown, before it could lose a hundred millions, would have received at least a hundred and fifty millions, and so there need be no anxiety on that score.”
“I am not the only person who has doubts on the subject. You must grant the possibility of the Crown losing an enormous sum at the first drawing?”
“Certainly, sir, but between possibility and reality is all the region of the infinite. Indeed, I may say that it would be a great piece of good fortune if the Crown were to lose largely on the first drawing.”
“A piece of bad fortune, you mean, surely?”
“A bad fortune to be desired. You know that all the insurance companies are rich. I will undertake to prove before all the mathematicians in Europe that the king is bound to gain one in five in this lottery. That is the secret. You will confess that the reason ought to yield to a mathematical proof?”
“Yes, of course; but how is it that the Castelletto cannot guarantee the Crown a certain gain?”
“Neither the Castelletto nor anybody in the world can guarantee absolutely that the king shall always win. What guarantees us against any suspicion of sharp practice is the drawing once a month, as then the public is sure that the holder of the lottery may lose.”
“Will you be good enough to express your sentiments on the subject before the council?”
“I will do so with much pleasure.”
“You will answer all objections?”
“I think I can promise as much.”
“Will you give me your plan?”
“Not before it is accepted, and I am guaranteed a reasonable profit.”
“But your plan may possibly be the same as the one before us.”
“I think not. I see M. de Calsabigi for the first time, and as he has not shewn me his scheme, and I have not communicated mine to him, it is improbable, not to say impossible, that we should agree in all respects. Besides, in my plan I clearly shew how much profit the Crown ought to get per annum.”
“It might, therefore, be formed by a company who would pay the Crown a fixed sum?”
“I think not.”
“Why?”
“For this reason. The only thing which would make the lottery pay, would be an irresistible current of public opinion in its favour. I should not care to have anything to do with it in the service of a company, who, thinking to increase their profits, might extend their operations--a course which would entail certain loss.”
“I don’t see how.”
“In a thousand ways which I will explain to you another time, and which I am sure you can guess for yourself. In short, if I am to have any voice in the matter, it must be a Government lottery or nothing.”
“M. de Calsabigi thinks so, too.”
“I am delighted to hear it, but not at all surprised; for, thinking on the same lines, we are bound to arrive at the same results.”
“Have you anybody ready for the Castelletto?”
“I shall only want intelligent machines, of whom there are plenty in France.”
I went out for a moment and found them in groups on my return, discussing my project with great earnestness.
M. Calsabigi after asking me a few questions took my hand, which he shook heartily, saying he should like to have some further conversation with me; and returning the friendly pressure, I told him that I should esteem it as an honour to be numbered amongst his friends. Thereupon I left my address with M. du Vernai and took my leave, satisfied, by my inspection of the faces before me, that they all had a high opinion of my talents.
Three days after, M. de Calsabigi called on me; and after receiving him in my best style I said that if I had not called on him it was only because I did not wish to be troublesome. He told me that my decisive way of speaking had made a great impression, and he was certain that if I cared to make interest with the comptroller we could set up the lottery and make a large profit.
“I think so, too,” said I, “but the financiers will make a much larger profit, and yet they do not seem anxious about it. They have not communicated with me, but it is their look-out, as I shall not make it my chief aim.”
“You will undoubtedly hear something about it today, for I know for a fact that M. de Boulogne has spoken of you to M. de Courteuil.”
“Very good, but I assure you I did not ask him to do so.”
After some further conversation he asked me, in the most friendly manner possible, to come and dine with him, and I accepted his invitation with a great pleasure; and just as we were starting I received a note from M. de Bernis, in which he said that if I could come to Versailles the next day he would present me to Madame de Pompadour, and that I should have an opportunity of seeing M. de Boulogne.
In high glee at this happy chance, less from vanity than policy I made M. de Calsabigi read the letter, and I was pleased to see him opening his eyes as he read it.
“You can force Du Vernai himself to accept the lottery,” he said, “and your fortune is made if you are not too rich already to care about such matters.”
“Nobody is ever rich enough to despise good fortune, especially when it is not due to favour.”
“Very true. We have been doing our utmost for two years to get the plan accepted, and have met with nothing beyond foolish objections which you have crushed to pieces. Nevertheless, our plans must be very similar. Believe me it will be best for us to work in concert, for by yourself you would find insuperable difficulties in the working, and you will find no ‘intelligent machines’ in Paris. My brother will do all the work, and you will be able to reap the advantages at your ease.”
“Are you, then, not the inventor of the scheme which has been shewn me?”
“No, it is the work of my brother.”
“Shall I have the pleasure or seeing him?”
“Certainly. His body is feeble, but his mind is in all its vigour. We shall see him directly.”
The brother was not a man of a very pleasing appearance, as he was covered with a kind of leprosy; but that did not prevent him having a good appetite, writing, and enjoying all his bodily and intellectual faculties; he talked well and amusingly. He never went into society, as, besides his personal disfigurement, he was tormented with an irresistible and frequent desire of scratching himself, now in one place, and now in another; and as all scratching is accounted an abominable thing in Paris, he preferred to be able to use his fingernails to the pleasures of society. He was pleased to say that, believing in God and His works, he was persuaded his nails had been given him to procure the only solace he was capable of in the kind of fury with which he was tormented.
“You are a believer, then, in final causes? I think you are right, but still I believe you would have scratched yourself if God had forgotten to give you any nails.”
My remarks made him laugh, and he then began to speak of our common business, and I soon found him to be a man of intellect. He was the elder of the two brothers, and a bachelor. He was expert in all kinds of calculations, an accomplished financier, with a universal knowledge of commerce, a good historian, a wit, a poet, and a man of gallantry. His birthplace was Leghorn, he had been in a Government office at Naples, and had come to Paris with M. de l’Hopital. His brother was also a man of learning and talent, but in every respect his inferior.
He shewed me the pile of papers, on which he had worked out all the problems referring to the lottery.
“If you think you can do without me,” said he, “I must compliment you on your abilities; but I think you will find yourself mistaken, for if you have no practical knowledge of the matter and no business men to help you, your theories will not carry you far. What will you do after you have obtained the decree? When you speak before the council, if you take my advice, you will fix a date after which you are not to be held responsible--that is to say, after which you will have nothing more to do with it. Unless you do so, you will be certain to encounter trifling and procrastination which will defer your plan to the Greek Kalends. On the other hand, I can assure you that M. du Vernai would be very glad to see us join hands.”
Very much inclined to take these gentlemen into partnership, for the good reason that I could not do without them, but taking care that they should suspect nothing, I went down with the younger brother, who introduced me to his wife before dinner. I found present an old lady well known at Paris under the name of General La Mothe, famous for her former beauty and her gout, another lady somewhat advanced in years, who was called Baroness Blanche, and was still the mistress of M. de Vaux, another styled the President’s lady, and a fourth, fair as the dawn, Madame Razzetti, from Piedmont, the wife of one of the violin players at the opera, and said to be courted by M. de Fondpertuis, the superintendent of the opera.
We sat down to dinner, but I was silent and absorbed, all my thoughts being monopolized by the lottery. In the evening, at Silvia’s, I was pronounced absent and pensive, and so I was in spite of the sentiment with which Mademoiselle Baletti inspired me--a sentiment which every day grew in strength.
I set out for Versailles next morning two hours before day-break, and was welcomed by M. de Bernis, who said he would bet that but for him I should never have discovered my talent for finance.
“M. de Boulogne tells me you astonished M. du Vernai, who is generally esteemed one of the acutest men in France. If you will take my advice, Casanova, you will keep up that acquaintance and pay him assiduous court. I may tell you that the lottery is certain to be established, that it will be your doing, and that you ought to make something considerable out of it. As soon as the king goes out to hunt, be at hand in the private apartments, and I will seize a favourable moment for introducing you to the famous marquise. Afterwards go to the Office for Foreign Affairs, and introduce yourself in my name to the Abbé de la Ville. He is the chief official there, and will give you a good reception.”
M. de Boulogne told me that, as soon as the council of the military school had given their consent, he would have the decree for the establishment of the lottery published, and he urged me to communicate to him any ideas which I might have on the subject of finance.
At noon Madame de Pompadour passed through the private apartments with the Prince de Soubise, and my patron hastened to point me out to the illustrious lady. She made me a graceful curtsy, and told me that she had been much interested in the subject of my flight.
“Do you go,” said she, “to see your ambassador?”
“I shew my respect to him, madam, by keeping away.”
“I hope you mean to settle in France.”
“It would be my dearest wish to do so, madam, but I stand in need of patronage, and I know that in France patronage is only given to men of talent, which is for me a discouraging circumstance.”
“On the contrary, I think you have reason to be hopeful, as you have some good friends. I myself shall be delighted if I can be of any assistance to you.”
As the fair marquise moved on, I could only stammer forth my gratitude.
I next went to the Abbé de la Ville, who received me with the utmost courtesy, and told me that he would remember me at the earliest opportunity.
Versailles was a beautiful spot, but I had only compliments and not invitations to expect there, so after leaving M. de la Ville I went to an inn to get some dinner. As I was sitting down, an abbé of excellent appearance, just like dozens of other French abbés, accosted me politely, and asked me if I objected to our dining together. I always thought the company of a pleasant man a thing to be desired, so I granted his request; and as soon as he sat down he complimented me on the distinguished manner in which I had been treated by M. de la Ville. “I was there writing a letter,” said he, “and I could hear all the obliging things the abbé said to you. May I ask, sir, how you obtained access to him?”
“If you really wish to know, I may be able to tell you.”
“It is pure curiosity on my part.”
“Well, then, I will say nothing, from pure prudence.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Certainly, with pleasure.”
Having thus shut the mouth of the curious impertinent, he confined his conversation to ordinary and more agreeable topics. After dinner, having no further business at Versailles, I made preparations for leaving, on which the abbé begged to be of my company. Although a man who frequents the society of abbés is not thought much more of than one who frequents the society of girls, I told him that as I was going to Paris in a public conveyance--far from its being a question of permission--I should be only too happy to have the pleasure of his company. On reaching Paris we parted, after promising to call on each other, and I went to Silvia’s and took supper there. The agreeable mistress of the house complimented me on my noble acquaintances, and made me promise to cultivate their society.
As soon as I got back to my own lodging, I found a note from M. du Vernai, who requested me to come to the military school at eleven o’clock on the next day, and later in the evening Calsabigi came to me from his brother, with a large sheet of paper containing all the calculations pertaining to the lottery.
Fortune seemed to be in my favour, for this tabular statement came to me like a blessing from on high. Resolving, therefore, to follow the instructions which I pretended to receive indifferently. I went to the military school, and as soon as I arrived the conference began. M. d’Alembert had been requested to be present as an expert in arithmetical calculations. If M. du Vernai had been the only person to be consulted, this step would not have been necessary; but the council contained some obstinate heads who were unwilling to give in. The conference lasted three hours.
After my speech, which only lasted half an hour, M. de Courteuil summed up my arguments, and an hour was passed in stating objections which I refuted with the greatest ease. I finally told them that no man of honour and learning would volunteer to conduct the lottery on the understanding that it was to win every time, and that if anyone had the impudence to give such an undertaking they should turn him out of the room forthwith, for it was impossible that such an agreement could be maintained except by some roguery.
This had its effect, for nobody replied; and M. du Vernai remarked that if the worst came to the worst the lottery could be suppressed. At this I knew my business was done, and all present, after signing a document which M. du Vernai gave them, took their leave, and I myself left directly afterwards with a friendly leave-taking from M. du Vernai.
M. Calsabigi came to see me the next day, bringing the agreeable news that the affair was settled, and that all that was wanting was the publication of the decree.
“I am delighted to hear it,” I said, “and I will go to M. de Boulogne’s every day, and get you appointed chief administrator as soon as I know what I have got for myself.”
I took care not to leave a stone unturned in this direction, as I knew that, with the great, promising and keeping a promise are two different things. The decree appeared a week after. Calsabigi was made superintendent, with an allowance of three thousand francs for every drawing, a yearly pension of four thousand francs for us both, and the chief of the lottery. His share was a much larger one than mine, but I was not jealous as I knew he had a greater claim than I. I sold five of the six offices that had been allotted to me for two thousand francs each, and opened the sixth with great style in the Rue St. Denis, putting my valet there as a clerk. He was a bright young Italian, who had been valet to the Prince de la Catolica, the ambassador from Naples.
The day for the first drawing was fixed, and notice was given that the winning numbers would be paid in a week from the time of drawing at the chief office.
With the idea of drawing custom to my office, I gave notice that all winning tickets bearing my signature would be paid at my office in twenty-four hours after the drawing. This drew crowds to my office and considerably increased my profits, as I had six per cent. on the receipts. A number of the clerks in the other offices were foolish enough to complain to Calsabigi that I had spoilt their gains, but he sent them about their business telling them that to get the better of me they had only to do as I did--if they had the money.
My first taking amounted to forty thousand francs. An hour after the drawing my clerk brought me the numbers, and shewed me that we had from seventeen to eighteen thousand francs to pay, for which I gave him the necessary funds.
Without my thinking of it I thus made the fortune of my clerk, for every winner gave him something, and all this I let him keep for himself.
The total receipts amounted to two millions, and the administration made a profit of six hundred thousand francs, of which Paris alone had contributed a hundred thousand francs. This was well enough for a first attempt.
On the day after the drawing I dined with Calsabigi at M. du Vernai’s, and I had the pleasure of hearing him complain that he had made too much money. Paris had eighteen or twenty ternes, and although they were small they increased the reputation of the lottery, and it was easy to see that the receipts at the next drawing would be doubled. The mock assaults that were made upon me put me in a good humour, and Calsabigi said that my idea had insured me an income of a hundred thousand francs a year, though it would ruin the other receivers.
“I have played similar strokes myself,” said M. du Vernai, “and have mostly succeeded; and as for the other receivers they are at perfect liberty to follow M. Casanova’s example, and it all tends to increase the repute of an institution which we owe to him and to you.”
At the second drawing a terne of forty thousand francs obliged me to borrow money. My receipts amounted to sixty thousand, but being obliged to deliver over my chest on the evening before the drawing, I had to pay out of my own funds, and was not repaid for a week.
In all the great houses I went to, and at the theatres, as soon as I was seen, everybody gave me money, asking me to lay it out as I liked and to send them the tickets, as, so far, the lottery was strange to most people. I thus got into the way of carrying about me tickets of all sorts, or rather of all prices, which I gave to people to choose from, going home in the evening with my pockets full of gold. This was an immense advantage to me, as kind of privilege which I enjoyed to the exclusion of the other receivers who were not in society, and did not drive a carriage like myself--no small point in one’s favour, in a large town where men are judged by the state they keep. I found I was thus able to go into any society, and to get credit everywhere.
I had hardly been a month in Paris when my brother Francis, with whom I had parted in 1752, arrived from Dresden with Madame Sylvestre. He had been at Dresden for four years, taken up with the pursuit of his art, having copied all the battle pieces in the Elector’s Galley. We were both of us glad to meet once more, but on my offering to see what my great friends could do for him with the Academicians, he replied with all an artist’s pride that he was much obliged to me, but would rather not have any other patrons than his talents. “The French,” said he, “have rejected me once, and I am far from bearing them ill-will on that account, for I would reject myself now if I were what I was then; but with their love of genius I reckon on a better reception this time.”
His confidence pleased me, and I complimented him upon it, for I have always been of the opinion that true merit begins by doing justice to itself.
Francis painted a fine picture, which on being exhibited at the Louvre, was received with applause. The Academy bought the picture for twelve thousand francs, my brother became famous, and in twenty-six years he made almost a million of money; but in spite of that, foolish expenditure, his luxurious style of living, and two bad marriages, were the ruin of him.
VOLUME 3 -- THE ETERNAL QUEST
EPISODE 11 -- PARIS AND HOLLAND
CHAPTER I
Count Tiretta of Trevisa Abbé Coste--Lambertini, the Pope’s
Niece--Her Nick-Name for Tiretta--The Aunt and Niece--
Our Talk by the Fireside--Punishment of Damien--Tiretta’s
Mistake Anger of Madame***--Their Reconciliation--
My Happiness with Mdlle. de la Meure Silvia’s Daughter--Mdlle.
de la Meure Marries--My Despair and Jealousy--A Change for
the Better
In the beginning of March, 1757, I received a letter from my friend Madame Manzoni, which she sent to me by a young man of good appearance, with a frank and high-born air, whom I recognized as a Venetian by his accent. He was young Count Tiretta de Trevisa, recommended to my care by Madame Manzoni, who said that he would tell me his story, which I might be sure would be a true one. The kind woman sent to me by him a small box in which she told me I should find all my manuscripts, as she did not think she would ever see me again.
I gave Tiretta the heartiest of welcomes, telling him that he could not have found a better way to my favour than through a woman to whom I was under the greatest obligations.
“And now, that you may be at your ease with me, I should like to know in what manner I can be of service to you?”
“I have need of your friendship, perhaps of your purse, but at any rate of your protection.”
“You have my friendship and my protection already, and my purse is at your service.”
After expressing his gratitude to me, Tiretta said,
“A year ago the Supreme Council of my country entrusted me with an employment dangerous to one of my years. I was made, with some other young gentlemen of my own age, a keeper of the Mont de Piete. The pleasures of the carnival having put us to a good deal of expense, we were short of money, and borrowed from the till hoping to be able to make up the money before balancing-day, but hoping all in vain.
“The fathers of my two companions, richer than mine, paid the sums they had taken, and I, not being able to pay, took the part of escaping by flight from the shame and the punishment I should have undergone.
“Madame Manzoni advised me to throw myself on your mercy, and she gave me a little box which you shall have to-day. I only got to Paris yesterday, and have only two louis, a little linen, and the clothes on my back. I am twenty-five, have an iron constitution, and a determination to do all in my power to make an honest living; but I can do nothing. I have not cultivated any one talent in a manner to make use of it now. I can play on the flute, but only as an amateur. I only know my own language, and I have no taste for literature. So what can you make of me? I must add that I have not a single expectation, least of all from my father, for to save the honour of the family he will be obliged to sell my portion of the estate, to which I shall have to bid an eternal farewell.”
If the count’s story had surprised me, the simplicity with which he told it had given me pleasure; and I was resolved to do honour to Madame Manzoni’s introduction, feeling that it was my duty to serve a fellow-countryman, who was really guilty of nothing worse than gross thoughtlessness.
“Begin,” said I, “by bringing your small belongings to the room next to mine, and get your meals there. I will pay for everything while I am looking out for something which may do for you.
“We will talk of business to-morrow, for as I never dine here I rarely if ever come home till late, and I do not expect to have the honour of seeing you again today. Leave me for the present, as I have got some work to do; and if you go out to walk, beware of bad company, and whatever you do keep your own counsel. You are fond of gaming, I suppose?”
“I hate it, as it has been the cause of half my troubles.”
“And the other half, I’ll wager, was caused by women.”
“You have guessed aright--oh, those women!”
“Well, don’t be angry with them, but make them pay for the ill they have done you.”
“I will, with the greatest pleasure, if I can.”
“If you are not too particular in your goods, you will find Paris rich in such commodities.”
“What do you mean by particular? I would never be a prince’s pathic.”
“No, no, I was not thinking of that. I mean by ‘particular’ a man who cannot be affectionate unless he is in love. The man who . . . .”
“I see what you mean, and I can lay no claim to such a character. Any hag with golden eyes will always find me as affectionate as a Celadon.”
“Well said! I shall soon be able to arrange matters for you.”
“I hope you will.”
“Are you going to the ambassador’s?”
“Good God!--no! What should I do when I got there? Tell him my story? He might make things unpleasant for me.”
“Not without your going to see him, but I expect he is not concerning himself with your case.”
“That’s all I ask him.”
“Everybody, my dear count, is in mourning in Paris, so go to my tailor’s and get yourself a black suit. Tell him you come from me, and say you want it by tomorrow. Good bye.”
I went out soon after, and did not come back till midnight. I found the box which Madame Manzoni had sent me in my room, and in it my manuscripts and my beloved portraits, for I never pawned a snuff-box without taking the portrait out.
Next day Tiretta made his appearance all in black, and thanked me for his transformation.
“They are quick, you see, at Paris. It would have taken a week at Trevisa.”
“Trevisa, my dear fellow, is not Paris.”
As I said this, the Abbé de la Coste was announced. I did not know the name, but I gave orders for him to be admitted; and there presently appeared the same little priest with whom I had dined at Versailles after leaving the Abbé de la Ville.
After the customary greetings he began by complimenting me on the success of my lottery, and then remarked that I had distributed tickets for more than six thousand francs.
“Yes,” I said, “and I have tickets left for several thousands more.”
“Very good, then I will invest a thousand crowns in it.”
“Whenever you please. If you call at my office you can choose the numbers.”
“No, I don’t think I’ll trouble to do so; give me any numbers just as they come.”
“Very good; here is the list you can choose from.”
He chose numbers to the amount of three thousand francs, and then asked me for a piece of paper to write an acknowledgment.
“Why so? I can’t do business that way, as I only dispose of my tickets for cash.”
“But you may be certain that you will have the money to-morrow.”
“I am quite sure I should, but you ought to be certain that you will have the tickets to-morrow. They are registered at my office, and I can dispose of them in no other manner.”
“Give me some which are not registered.”
“Impossible; I could not do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because if they proved to be winning numbers I should have to pay out of my own pocket an honour I do not desire.”
“Well, I think you might run the risk.”
“I think not, if I wish to remain an honest man, at all events.”
The abbé, who saw he could get nothing out of me, turned to Tiretta, and began to speak to him in bad Italian, and at last offered to introduce him to Madame de Lambertini, the widow of one of the Pope’s nephews. Her name, her relationship to the Pope, and the abbé’s spontaneous offer, made me curious to know more, so I said that my friend would accept his offer, and that I would have the honour to be of the party; whereupon we set out.
We got down at the door of the supposed niece of the Holy Father in the Rue Christine, and we proceeded to go upstairs. We saw a woman who, despite her youthful air, was, I am sure, not a day under forty. She was rather thin, had fine black eyes, a good complexion, lively but giddy manners, was a great laugher, and still capable of exciting a passing fancy. I soon made myself at home with her, and found out, when she began to talk, that she was neither a widow nor the niece of the Pope. She came from Modena, and was a mere adventuress. This discovery shewed me what sort of a man the abbé was.
I thought from his expression that the count had taken a fancy to her, and when she asked us to dinner I refused on the plea of an engagement; but Tiretta, who took my meaning, accepted. Soon after I went away with the abbé, whom I dropped at the Quai de la Ferraille, and I then went to beg a dinner at Calsabigi’s.
After dinner Calsabigi took me on one side, and told me that M. du Vernai had commissioned him to warn me that I could not dispose of tickets on account.
“Does M. du Vernai take me for a fool or a knave? As I am neither, I shall complain to M. de Boulogne.”
“You will be wrong; he merely wanted to warn you and not offend you.”
“You offend me very much yourself, sir, in talking to me in that fashion; and you may make up your mind that no one shall talk to me thus a second time.”
Calsabigi did all in his power to quiet me down, and at last persuaded me to go with him to M. du Vernai’s. The worthy old gentleman seeing the rage I was in apologized to me for what he had said, and told me that a certain Abbé de la Coste had informed him that I did so. At this I was highly indignant, and I told him what had happened that morning, which let M. du Vernai know what kind of a man the abbé was. I never saw him again, either because he got wind of my discovery, or because a happy chance kept him out of my way; but I heard, three years after, that he had been condemned to the hulks for selling tickets of a Trevaux lottery which was non-existent, and in the hulks he died.
Next day Tiretta came in, and said he had only just returned.
“You have been sleeping out, have you, master profligate?”
“Yes, I was so charmed with the she-pope that I kept her company all the night.”
“You were not afraid of being in the way?”
“On the contrary, I think she was thoroughly satisfied with my conversation.”
“As far as I can see, you had to bring into play all your powers of eloquence.”
“She is so well pleased with my fluency that she has begged me to accept a room in her house, and to allow her to introduce me as a cousin to M. le Noir, who, I suppose, is her lover.”
“You will be a trio, then; and how do you think you will get on together?”
“That’s her business. She says this gentleman will give me a good situation in the Inland Revenue.”
“Have you accepted her offer?”
“I did not refuse it, but I told her that I could do nothing without your advice. She entreated me to get you to come to dinner with her on Sunday.”
“I shall be happy to go.”
I went with my friend, and as soon as the harebrain saw us she fell on Tiretta’s neck, calling him dear Count “Six-times”--a name which stuck to him all the time he was at Paris.
“What has gained my friend so fine a title, madam?”
“His erotic achievements. He is lord of an honour of which little is known in France, and I am desirous of being the lady.”
“I commend you for so noble an ambition.”
After telling me of his feats with a freedom which shewed her exemption from vulgar prejudice, she informed me that she wished her cousin to live in the same house, and had already obtained M. le Noir’s permission, which was given freely.
“M. le Noir,” added the fair Lambertini, “will drop in after dinner, and I am dying to introduce Count ‘Sixtimes’ to him.”
After dinner she kept on speaking of the mighty deeds of my countryman, and began to stir him up, while he, no doubt, pleased to have a witness to his exploits, reduced her to silence. I confess that I witnessed the scene without excitement, but as I could not help seeing the athletic person of the count, I concluded that he might fare well everywhere with the ladies.
About three o’clock two elderly women arrived, to whom the Lambertini eagerly introduced Count “Six-times.” In great astonishment they enquired the origin of his title, and the heroine of the story having whispered it to them, my friend became an object of interest.
“I can’t believe it,” said one of these ladies, ogling the count, while his face seemed to say,
“Would you like to try?”
Shortly after, a coach stopped at the door, and a fat woman of middle-aged appearance and a very pretty girl were ushered in; after them came a pale man in a black suit and a long wig. After greeting them in a manner which implied intimacy, the Pope’s niece introduced her cousin Count “Six-strokes”. The elderly woman seemed to be astonished at such a name, but the Lambertini gave no explanation. Nevertheless, people seemed to think it rather curious that a man who did not know a word of French should be living in Paris, and that in spite of his ignorance he continued to jabber away in an easy manner, though nobody could understand what he was talking about.
After some foolish conversation, the Pope’s niece proposed a game at Loo. She asked me to play but on my refusing did not make a point of it, but she insisted on her cousin being her partner.
“He knows nothing about cards,” said she; “but that’s no matter, he will learn, and I will undertake to instruct him.”
As the girl, by whose beauty I was struck, did not understand the game, I offered her a seat by the fire, asking her to grant me the honour of keeping her company, whereupon the elderly woman who had brought her began to laugh, and said I should have some difficulty in getting her niece to talk about anything, adding, in a polite manner, that she hoped I would be lenient with her as she had only just left a convent. I assured her that I should have no difficulty in amusing myself with one so amiable, and the game having begun I took up my position near the pretty niece.
I had been near her for several minutes, and solely occupied in mute admiration of her beauty, when she asked me who was that handsome gentleman who talked so oddly.
“He is a nobleman, and a fellow-countryman of mine, whom an affair of honour has banished from his country.”
“He speaks a curious dialect.”
“Yes, but the fact is that French is very little spoken in Italy; he will soon pick it up in Paris, and then he will be laughed at no longer. I am sorry to have brought him here, for in less than twenty-four hours he was spoiled.”
“How spoiled?”
“I daren’t tell you as, perhaps, your aunt would not like it.”
“I don’t think I should tell her, but, perhaps, I should not have asked.”
“Oh, yes! you should; and as you wish to know I will make no mystery of it. Madame Lambertini took a fancy to him; they passed the night together, and in token of the satisfaction he gave her she has given him the ridiculous nickname of ‘Count Sixtimes.’ That’s all. I am vexed about it, as my friend was no profligate.”
Astonishment--and very reasonable astonishment--will be expressed that I dared to talk in this way to a girl fresh from a convent; but I should have been astonished myself at the bare idea of any respectable girl coming to Lambertini’s house. I fixed my gaze on my fair companion, and saw the blush of shame mounting over her pretty face; but I thought that might have more than one meaning.
Judge of my surprise when, two minutes afterwards, I heard this question:
“But what has ‘Sixtimes’ got to do with sleeping with Madame Lambertini?”
“My dear young lady, the explanation is perfectly simple: my friend in a single night did what a husband often takes six weeks to do.”
“And you think me silly enough to tell my aunt of what we have been talking? Don’t believe it.”
“But there’s another thing I am sorry about.”
“You shall tell me what that is directly.”
The reason which obliged the charming niece to retire for a few minutes may be guessed without our going into explanations. When she came back she went behind her aunt’s chair, her eyes fixed on Tiretta, and then came up to me, and taking her seat again, said:
“Now, what else is it that you are sorry about?” her eyes sparkling as she asked the question.
“May I tell you, do you think?”
“You have said so much already, that I don’t think you need have any scruples in telling me the rest.”
“Very good: you must know, then, that this very day and in my presence he---- -her.”
“If that displeased you, you must be jealous.”
“Possibly, but the fact is that I was humbled by a circumstance I dare not tell you.”
“I think you are laughing at me with your ‘dare not tell you.’”
“God forbid, mademoiselle! I will confess, then, that I was humbled because Madame Lambertini made me see that my friend was taller than myself by two inches.”
“Then she imposed on you, for you are taller than your friend.”
“I am not speaking of that kind of tallness, but another; you know what I mean, and there my friend is really monstrous.”
“Monstrous! then what have you to be sorry about? Isn’t it better not to be monstrous?”
“Certainly; but in the article we are discussing, some women, unlike you, prefer monstrosity.”
“I think that’s absurd of them, or rather mad; or perhaps, I have not sufficiently clear ideas on the subject to imagine what size it would be to be called monstrous; and I think it is odd that such a thing should humble you.”
“You would not have thought it of me, to see me?”
“Certainly not, for when I came into the room I thought you looked a well-proportioned man, but if you are not I am sorry for you.”
“I won’t leave you in doubt on the subject; look for yourself, and tell me what you think.”
“Why, it’s you who are the monster! I declare you make me feel quite afraid.”
At this she began to perspire violently, and went behind her aunt’s chair. I did not stir, as I was sure she would soon come back, putting her down in my own mind as very far removed from silliness or innocence either. I supposed she wished to affect what she did not possess. I was, moreover, delighted at having taken the opportunity so well. I had punished her for having tried to impose on me; and as I had taken a great fancy to her, I was pleased that she seemed to like her punishment. As for her possession of wit, there could be no doubt on that point, for it was she who had sustained the chief part in our dialogue, and my sayings and doings were all prompted by her questions, and the persevering way in which she kept to the subject.
She had not been behind her aunt’s chair for five minutes when the latter was looed. She, not knowing whom to attack, turned on her niece and said, “Get you gone, little silly, you are bringing me bad luck! Besides, it is bad manners to leave the gentleman who so kindly offered to keep you company all by himself.”
The amiable niece made no answer, and came back to me smiling. “If my aunt knew,” said she, “what you had done to me, she would not have accused me of bad manners.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I want you to have some evidence of my repentance, but all that I can do is to go. Will you be offended if I do?”
“If you leave me, my aunt will call me a dreadful stupid, and will say that I have tired you out.”
“Would you like me to stay, then?”
“You can’t go.”
“Had you no idea what I shewed you was like till just now?”
“My ideas on the subject were inaccurate. My aunt only took me out of the convent a month ago, and I had been there since I was seven.”
“How old are you now?”
“Seventeen. They tried to make me take the veil, but not having any relish for the fooleries of the cloister I refused.”
“Are you vexed with me?”
“I ought to be very angry with you, but I know it was my fault, so I will only ask you to be discreet.”
“Don’t be afraid, if I were indiscreet I should be the first to suffer.”
“You have given me a lesson which will come in useful. Stop! stop! or I will go away.”
“No, keep quiet; it’s done now.”
I had taken her pretty hand, with which she let me do as I liked, and at last when she drew it back she was astonished to find it wanted wiping.
“What is that?”
“The most pleasant of substances, which renovates the world.”
“I see you are an excellent master. Your pupils make rapid progress, and you give your lessons with such a learned air.”
“Now don’t be angry with me for what has happened. I should never have dared to go so far if your beauty had not inspired me.”
“Am I to take that speech as a declaration of love?”
“Yes, it is bold, sweetheart, but it is sincere. If it were not, I should be unworthy both of you and of myself.”
“Can I believe you?”
“Yes, with all your heart. But tell me if I may hope for your love?”
“I don’t know. All I know at present is that I ought to hate you, for in the space of a quarter of an hour you have taught me what I thought I should never know till I was married.”
“Are you sorry?”
“I ought to be, although I feel that I have nothing more to learn on a matter which I never dared to think about. But how is it that you have got so quiet?”
“Because we are talking reasonably and after the rapture love requires some repose. But look at this!”
“What! again? Is that the rest of the lesson?”
“It is the natural result of it.”
“How is it that you don’t frighten me now?”
“The soldier gets used to fire.”
“I see our fire is going out.”
With these words she took up a stick to poke the fire, and as she was stooping down in a favourable position my rash hand dared to approach the porch of the temple, and found the door closed in such sort that it would be necessary to break it open if one wished to enter the sanctuary. She got up in a dignified way, and told me in a polite and feeling manner that she was a well-born girl and worthy of respect. Pretending to be confused I made a thousand excuses, and I soon saw the amiable expression return to the face which it became so well. I said that in spite of my repentance I was glad to know that she had never made another man happy.
“Believe me,” she said, “that if I make anyone happy it will be my husband, to whom I have given my hand and heart.”
I took her hand, which she abandoned to my rapturous kisses. I had reached this pleasant stage in the proceedings when M. le Noir was announced, he having come to enquire what the Pope’s niece had to say to him.
M. le Noir, a man of a certain age and of a simple appearance, begged the company to remain seated. The Lambertini introduced me to him, and he asked if I were the artist; but on being informed that I was his elder brother, he congratulated me on my lottery and the esteem in which M. du Vernai held me. But what interested him most was the cousin whom the fair niece of the Pope introduced to him under his real name of Tiretta, thinking, doubtless, that his new title would not carry much weight with M. le Noir. Taking up the discourse, I told him that the count was commanded to me by a lady whom I greatly esteemed, and that he had been obliged to leave his country for the present on account of an affair of honour. The Lambertini added that she wished to accommodate him, but had not liked to do so till she had consulted M. le Noir. “Madam,” said the worthy man, “you have sovereign power in your house, and I shall be delighted to see the count in your society.”
As M. le Noir spoke Italian very well, Tiretta left the table, and we sat down all four of us by the fire, where my fresh conquest had an opportunity of shewing her wit. M. le Noir was a man of much intelligence and great experience. He made her talk of the convent where she had been, and as soon as he knew her name he began to speak of her father, with whom he had been well acquainted. He was a councillor of the Parliament of Rouen, and had enjoyed a great reputation during his lifetime.
My sweetheart was above the ordinary height, her hair was a fine golden colour, and her regular features, despite the brilliance of her eyes, expressed candour and modesty. Her dress allowed me to follow all the lines of her figure, and the eyes dwelt pleasantly on the beauty of her form, and on the two spheres which seemed to lament their too close confinement. Although M. le Noir said nothing of all this, it was easy to see that in his own way he admired her perfections no less than I. He left us at eight o’clock, and half an hour afterwards the fat aunt went away followed by her charming niece and the pale man who had come with them. I lost no time in taking leave with Tiretta, who promised the Pope’s niece to join her on the morrow, which he did.
Three or four days later I received at my office a letter from Mdlle. de la Meure--the pretty niece. It ran as follows: “Madame, my aunt, my late mother’s sister, is a devotee, fond of gaming, rich, stingy, and unjust. She does not like me, and not having succeeded in persuading me to take the veil, she wants to marry me to a wealthy Dunkirk merchant, whom I do not know, but (mark this) whom she does not know any more than I do. The matrimonial agent has praised him very much, and very naturally, as a man must praise his own goods. This gentleman is satisfied with an income of twelve hundred francs per annum, but he promises to leave me in his will no less than a hundred and fifty thousand francs. You must know that by my mother’s will my aunt is obliged to pay me on my wedding day twenty-five thousand crowns.
“If what has taken place between us has not made me contemptible in your sight, I offer you my hand and heart with sixty-five thousand francs, and as much more on my aunt’s death.
“Don’t send me any answer, as I don’t know how or by whom to receive your letter. You can answer me in your own person next Sunday at Madame Lambertini’s. You will thus have four days whereon to consider this most important question. I do not exactly know whether I love you, but I am quite sure that I prefer you to any other man. I know that each of us has still to gain the other’s esteem, but I am sure you would make my life a happy one, and that I should be a faithful wife. If you think that the happiness I seek can add to your own, I must warn you that you will need the aid of a lawyer, as my aunt is miserly, and will stick at trifles.
“If you decide in the affirmative you must find a convent for me to take refuge in before I commit myself to anything, as otherwise I should be exposed to the harsh treatment I wish to avoid. If, on the other hand, my proposal does not meet your views, I have one favour to ask by granting which you will earn my everlasting gratitude. This is that you will endeavour to see me no more, and will take care not to be present in any company in which you think I am to be found. Thus you will help me to forget you, and this is the least you can do for me. You may guess that I shall never be happy till I have become your wife or have forgotten you. Farewell! I reckon upon seeing you on Sunday.”
This letter affected me. I felt that it was dictated by prudent, virtuous, and honourable feelings, and I found even more merit in the intellectual endowments of the girl than in her beauty. I blushed at having in a manner led her astray, and I should have thought myself worthy of punishment if I had been capable of refusing the hand offered to me with so much nobility of feeling. And a second but still a powerful consideration made me look complacently upon a fortune larger than I could reasonably expect to win. Nevertheless, the idea of the marriage state, for which I felt I had no vocation, made me tremble.
I knew myself too well not to be aware that as a married man I should be unhappy, and, consequently, with the best intentions I should fail in making the woman’s life a happy one. My uncertainty in the four days which she had wisely left me convinced me that I was not in love with her. In spite of that, so weak was I that I could not summon up courage to reject her offer--still less to tell her so frankly, which would have made her esteem me.
During these four days I was entirely absorbed in this one subject. I bitterly repented of having outraged her modesty, for I now esteemed and respected her, but yet I could not make up my mind to repair the wrong I had done her. I could not bear to incur her dislike, but the idea of tying myself down was dreadful to me; and such is the condition of a man who has to choose between two alternatives, and cannot make up his mind.
Fearing lest my evil genius should take me to the opera or elsewhere, and in spite of myself make me miss my appointment, I resolved to dine with the Lambertini without having come to any decision. The pious niece of the Pope was at mass when I reached her house. I found Tiretta engaged in playing on the flute, but as soon as he saw me he dropped the instrument, ran up to me, embraced me, and gave me back the money his suit had cost me.
“I see you are in cash, old fellow; I congratulate you.”
“It’s a grievous piece of luck to me, for the money is stolen, and I am sorry I have got it though I was an accomplice in the theft.”
“What! the money is stolen?”
“Yes, sharping is done here, and I have been taught to help. I share in their ill-gotten gains because I have not the strength of mind to refuse. My landlady and two or three women of the same sort pluck the pigeons. The business does not suit me, and I am thinking of leaving it. Sooner or later I shall kill or be killed, and either event will be the death of me, so I am thinking of leaving this cutthroat place as soon as possible.”
“I advise you--nay, I bid you do so by all means, and I should think you had better be gone to-day than to-morrow.”
“I don’t want to do anything suddenly, as M. le Noir is a gentleman and my friend, and he thinks me a cousin to this wretched woman. As he knows nothing of the infamous trade she carries on, he would suspect something, and perhaps would leave her after learning the reason of my departure. I shall find some excuse or other in the course of the next five or six days, and then I will make haste and return to you.”
The Lambertini thanked me for coming to dinner in a friendly manner, and told me that we should have the company of Mdlle. de la Meure and her aunt. I asked her if she was still satisfied with my friend “Sixtimes,” and she told me that though the count did not always reside on his manor, she was for all that delighted with him; and said she,
“I am too good a monarch to ask too much of my vassals.”
I congratulated her, and we continued to jest till the arrival of the two other guests.
As soon as Mdlle. de la Meure saw me she could scarcely conceal her pleasure. She was in half mourning, and looked so pretty in this costume, which threw up the whiteness of her skin, that I still wonder why that instant did not determine my fate.
Tiretta, who had been making his toilette, rejoined us, and as nothing prevented me from shewing the liking I had taken for the amiable girl I paid her all possible attention. I told the aunt that I found her niece so pretty that I would renounce my bachelorhood if I could find such a mate.
“My niece is a virtuous and sweet-tempered girl, sir, but she is utterly devoid either of intelligence or piety.”
“Never mind the intelligence,” said the niece, “but I was never found wanting in piety at the convent.”
“I dare say the nuns are of the jesuitical party.”
“What has that got to do with it, aunt?”
“Very much, child; the Jesuits and their adherents are well known to have no vital religion. But let us talk of something else. All that I want you to do is to know how to please your future husband.”
“Is mademoiselle about to marry, then?”
“Her intended will probably arrive at the beginning of next month.”
“Is he a lawyer?”
“No, sir; he is a well-to-do merchant.”
“M. le Noir told me that your niece was the daughter of a councillor, and I did not imagine that you would sanction her marrying beneath her.”
“There will be no question of such a thing in this instance, sir; and, after all, what is marrying beneath one? My niece’s intended is an honest, and therefore a noble, man, and I am sure it will be her fault if she does not lead a life of perfect happiness with him.”
“Quite so, supposing she loves him.”
“Oh! love and all that kind of thing will come in good time, you know.”
As these remarks could only give pain to the young lady, who listened in silence, I changed the conversation to the enormous crowd which would be present at the execution of Damien, and finding them extremely desirous of witnessing this horrible sight I offered them a large window with an excellent view. The ladies accepted with great pleasure, and I promised to escort them in good time.
I had no such thing as a window, but I knew that in Paris, as everywhere, money will procure anything. After dinner I went out on the plea of business, and, taking the first coach I came across, in a quarter of an hour I succeeded in renting a first floor window in excellent position for three louis. I paid in advance, taking care to have a receipt.
My business over, I hastened to rejoin the company, and found them engaged in piquet. Mdlle. de la Meure, who knew nothing about it, was tired of looking on. I came up to her, and having something to say we went to the other end of the room.
“Your letter, dearest, has made me the happiest of men. You have displayed in it such intelligence and such admirable characteristics as would win you the fervent adoration of every man of good sense.”
“I only want one man’s love. I will be content with the esteem of the rest.”
“My angel, I will make you my wife, and I shall bless till my latest breath the lucky audacity to which I owe my being chosen before other men who would not have refused your hand, even without the fifty thousand crowns, which are nothing in comparison with your beauty and your wit.”
“I am very glad you like me so much.”
“Could I do otherwise? And now that you know my heart, do nothing hastily, but trust in me.”
“You will not forget how I am placed.”
“I will bear it in mind. Let me have time to take a house, to furnish it and to put myself in a position in which I shall be worthy of your hand. You must remember that I am only in furnished apartments; that you are well connected, and that I should not like to be regarded as a fortune-hunter.”
“You know that my intended husband will soon arrive?”
“Yes, I will take care of that.”
“When he does come, you know, matters will be pushed on rapidly.”
“Not too rapidly for me to be able to set you free in twenty-four hours, and without letting your aunt know that the blow comes from me. You may rest assured, dearest, that the minister for foreign affairs, on being assured that you wish to marry me, and me only, will get you an inviolable asylum in the best convent in Paris. He will also retain counsel on your behalf, and if your mother’s will is properly drawn out your aunt will soon be obliged to hand over your dowry, and to give security for the rest of the property. Do not trouble yourself about the matter, but let the Dunkirk merchant come when he likes. At all hazards, you may reckon upon me, and you may be sure you will not be in your aunt’s house on the day fixed for the wedding.”
“I confide in you entirely, but for goodness’ sake say no more on a circumstance which wounds my sense of modesty. You said that I offered you marriage because you took liberties with me?”
“Was I wrong?”
“Yes, partly, at all events; and you ought to know that if I had not good reasons I should have done a very foolish thing in offering to marry you, but I may as well tell you that, liberties or no liberties, I should always have liked you better than anyone.”
I was beside myself with joy, and seizing her hand I covered it with tender and respectful kisses; and I feel certain that if a notary and priest had been then and there available, I should have married her without the smallest hesitation.
Full of each other, like all lovers, we paid no attention to the horrible racket that was going on at the other end of the room. At last I thought it my duty to see what was happening, and leaving my intended I rejoined the company to quiet Tiretta.
I saw on the table a casket, its lid open, and full of all sorts of jewels; close by were two men who were disputing with Tiretta, who held a book in one hand. I saw at once that they were talking about a lottery, but why were they disputing? Tiretta told me they were a pair of knaves who had won thirty or forty louis of him by means of the book, which he handed to me.
“Sir,” said one of the gamesters, “this book treats of a lottery in which all the calculations are made in the fairest manner possible. It contains twelve hundred leaves, two hundred being winning leaves, while the rest are blanks. Anyone who wants to play has only to pay a crown, and then to put a pin’s point at random between two leaves of the closed book. The book is then opened at the place where the pin is, and if the leaf is blank the player loses; but if, on the other hand, the leaf bears a number, he is given the corresponding ticket, and an article of the value indicated on the ticket is then handed to him. Please to observe, sir, that the lowest prize is twelve francs, and there are some numbers worth as much as six hundred francs, and even one to the value of twelve hundred. We have been playing for an hour, and have lost several costly articles, and madam,” pointing to my sweetheart’s aunt, “has won a ring worth six louis, but as she preferred cash, she continued playing and lost the money she had gained.”
“Yes,” said the aunt, “and these gentlemen have won everybody’s money with their accursed game; which proves it is all a mere cheat.”
“It proves they are rogues,” said Tiretta.
“But gentlemen,” answered one of them, “in that case the receivers of the Government lottery are rogues too”; whereon Tiretta gave him a box on the ear. I threw myself between the two combatants, and told them not to speak a word.
“All lotteries,” said I, “are advantageous to the holders, but the king is at the head of the Government lottery, and I am the principal receiver, in which character I shall proceed to confiscate this casket, and give you the choice of the following alternatives: You can, if you like, return to the persons present the money you have unlawfully won from them, whereupon I will let you go with your box. If you refuse to do so, I shall send for a policeman, who will take you to prison, and to-morrow you will be tried by M. Berier, to whom I shall take this book in the morning. We shall soon see whether we are rogues as well as they.”
Seeing that they had to do with a man of determination, and that resistance would only result in their losing all, they resolved with as good a grace as they could muster to return all their winnings, and for all I know double the sum, for they were forced to return forty louis, though they swore they had only won twenty. The company was too select for me to venture to decide between them. In point of fact I was rather inclined to believe the rascals, but I was angry with them, and I wanted them to pay a good price for having made a comparison, quite right in the main, but odious to me in the extreme. The same reason, doubtless, prevented me from giving them back their book, which I had no earthly right to keep, and which they asked me in vain to return to them. My firmness and my threats, and perhaps also the fear of the police, made them think themselves lucky to get off with their jewel-box. As soon as they were gone the ladies, like the kindly creatures they were, began to pity them. “You might have given them back their book,” they said to me.
“And you, ladies, might have let them keep their money.”
“But they cheated us of it.”
“Did they? Well, their cheating was done with the book, and I have done them a kindness by taking it from them.”
They felt the force of my remarks, and the conversation took another turn.
Early next morning the two gamesters paid me a visit bringing with them as a bribe a beautiful casket containing twenty-four lovely pieces of Dresden china. I found this argument irresistible, and I felt obliged to return them the book, threatening them at the same time with imprisonment if they dared to carry on their business in Paris for the future. They promised me to abstain from doing so--no doubt with a mental reservation, but I cared nothing about that.
I resolved to offer this beautiful gift to Mdlle. de la Meure, and I took it to her the same day. I had a hearty welcome, and the aunt loaded me with thanks.
On March the 28th, the day of Damien’s martyrdom, I went to fetch the ladies in good time; and as the carriage would scarcely hold us all, no objection was made to my taking my sweetheart on my knee, and in this order we reached the Place de Greve. The three ladies packing themselves together as tightly as possible took up their positions at the window, leaning forward on their elbows, so as to prevent us seeing from behind. The window had two steps to it, and they stood on the second; and in order to see we had to stand on the same step, for if we had stood on the first we should not have been able to see over their heads. I have my reasons for giving these minutiae, as otherwise the reader would have some difficulty in guessing at the details which I am obliged to pass over in silence.
We had the courage to watch the dreadful sight for four hours. The circumstances of Damien’s execution are too well known to render it necessary for me to speak of them; indeed, the account would be too long a one, and in my opinion such horrors are an offence to our common humanity.
Damien was a fanatic, who, with the idea of doing a good work and obtaining a heavenly reward, had tried to assassinate Louis XV.; and though the attempt was a failure, and he only gave the king a slight wound, he was torn to pieces as if his crime had been consummated.
While this victim of the Jesuits was being executed, I was several times obliged to turn away my face and to stop my ears as I heard his piercing shrieks, half of his body having been torn from him, but the Lambertini and the fat aunt did not budge an inch. Was it because their hearts were hardened? They told me, and I pretended to believe them, that their horror at the wretch’s wickedness prevented them feeling that compassion which his unheard-of torments should have excited. The fact was that Tiretta kept the pious aunt curiously engaged during the whole time of the execution, and this, perhaps, was what prevented the virtuous lady from moving or even turning her head round.
Finding himself behind her, he had taken the precaution to lift up her dress to avoid treading on it. That, no doubt, was according to the rule; but soon after, on giving an involuntary glance in their direction, I found that Tiretta had carried his precautions rather far, and, not wishing to interrupt my friend or to make the lady feel awkward, I turned my head and stood in such a way that my sweetheart could see nothing of what was going on; this put the good lady at her ease. For two hours after I heard a continuous rustling, and relishing the joke I kept quiet the whole time. I admired Tiretta’s hearty appetite still more than his courage, but what pleased me most was the touching resignation with which the pious aunt bore it all.
At the end of this long session I saw Madame turn round, and doing the same I fixed my gaze on Tiretta, and found him looking as fresh and cool as if nothing had happened, but the aunt seemed to me to have a rather pensive appearance. She had been under the fatal necessity of keeping quiet and letting Tiretta do what he liked for fear of the Lambertini’s jests, and lest her niece might be scandalized by the revelation of mysteries of which she was supposed to know nothing.
We set out, and having dropped the Pope’s niece at her door, I begged her to lend me Tiretta for a few hours, and I then took Madame to her house in the Rue St. Andre-des-Arts. She asked me to come and see her the following day as she had something to tell me, and I remarked that she took no notice of my friend as she left us. We went to the “Hotel de Russie,” where they gave you an excellent dinner for six francs a head, and I thought my mad friend stood in need of recruiting his strength.
“What were you doing behind Madame--?” said I.
“I am sure you saw nothing, or anybody else either.”
“No, because when I saw the beginning of your manoeuvres, and guessed what was coming, I stood in such a way that neither the Lambertini or the pretty niece could see you. I can guess what your goal was, and I must say I admire your hearty appetite. But your wretched victim appears to be rather angry.”
“Oh! my dear fellow, that’s all the affectation of an old maid. She may pretend to be put out, but as she kept quiet the whole time I am certain she would be glad to begin all over again.”
“I think so, too, in her heart of hearts; but her pride might suggest that you had been lacking in respect, and the suggestion would be by no means groundless.”
“Respect, you say; but must one not always be lacking in respect to women when one wants to come to the point?”
“Quite so, but there’s a distinction between what lovers may do when they are together, and what is proper in the presence of a mixed company.”
“Yes, but I snatched four distinct favours from her, without the least opposition; had I not therefore good reasons for taking her consent for granted?”
“You reason well, but you see she is out of humour with you. She wants to speak to me to-morrow, and I have no doubt that you will be the subject of our conversation.”
“Possibly, but still I should think she would not speak to you of the comic piece of business; it would be very silly of her.”
“Why so? You don’t know these pious women. They are brought up by Jesuits, who often give them some good lessons on the subject, and they are delighted to confess to a third party; and these confessions with a seasoning of tears gives them in their own eyes quite a halo of saintliness.”
“Well, let her tell you if she likes. We shall see what comes of it.”
“Possibly she may demand satisfaction; in which case I shall be glad to do my best for her.”
“You make me laugh! I can’t imagine what sort of satisfaction she could claim, unless she wants to punish me by the ‘Lex talionis’, which would be hardly practicable without a repetition of the original offence. If she had not liked the game, all she had to do was to give me a push which would have sent me backwards.”
“Yes, but that would have let us know what you had been trying to do.”
“Well, if it comes to that, the slightest movement would have rendered the whole process null and void; but as it was she stood in the proper position as quiet as a lamb; nothing could be easier.”
“It’s an amusing business altogether. But did you notice that the Lambertini was angry with you, too? She, perhaps, saw what you were doing, and felt hurt.”
“Oh! she has got another cause of complaint against me. We have fallen out, and I am leaving her this evening.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I will tell you all about it. Yesterday evening, a young fellow in the Inland Revenue who had been seduced to sup with us by a hussy of Genoa, after losing forty louis, threw, the cards in the face of my landlady and called her a thief. On the impulse of the moment I took a candle and put it out on his face. I might have destroyed one of his eyes, but I fortunately hit him on the cheek. He immediately ran for his sword, mine was ready, and if the Genoese had not thrown herself between us murder might have been committed. When the poor wretch saw his cheek in the glass, he became so furious that nothing short of the return of all his money would appease him. They gave it him back, in spite of my advice, for in doing so they admitted, tacitly at all events, that it had been won by cheating. This caused a sharp dispute between the Lambertini and myself after he had gone. She said we should have kept the forty louis, and nothing would have happened except for my interference, that it was her and not me whom the young man had insulted. The Genoese added that if we had kept cool we should have had the plucking of him, but that God alone knew what he would do now with the mark of the burn on his face. Tired of the talk of these infamous women, I was about to leave them, but my landlady began to ride the high horse, and went so far as to call me a beggar.
“If M. le Noir had not come in just then, she would have had a bad time of it, as my stick was already in my hand. As soon as they saw him they told me to hold my tongue, but my blood was up; and turning towards the worthy man I told him that his mistress had called me a beggar, that she was a common prostitute, that I was not her cousin, nor in any way related to her, and that I should leave her that very day. As soon as I had come to the end of this short and swift discourse, I went out and shut myself up in my room. In the course of the next two hours I shall go and fetch my linen, and I hope to breakfast with you to-morrow.”
Tiretta did well. His heart was in the right place, and he was wise not to allow the foolish impulses of youth to plunge him in the sink of corruption. As long as a man has not committed a dishonourable action, as long as his heart is sound, though his head may go astray, the path of duty is still open to him. I should say the same of women if prejudice were not so strong in their case, and if they were not much more under the influence of the heart than the head.
After a good dinner washed down by some delicious Sillery we parted, and I spent the evening in writing. Next morning I did some business, and at noon went to see the distressed devotee, whom I found at home with her charming niece. We talked a few minutes about the weather, and she then told my sweetheart to leave us as she wanted to speak to me. I was prepared for what was coming and I waited for her to break the silence which all women of her position observe. “You will be surprised, sir, at what I am going to tell you, for I have determined to bring before you a complaint of an unheard-of character. The case is really of the most delicate nature, and I am impelled to make a confidant of you by the impression you made on me when I first saw you. I consider you to be a man of discretion, of honour, and above all a moral man; in short, I believe you have experienced religion, and if I am making a mistake it will be a pity, for though I have been insulted I don’t lack means of avenging myself, and as you are his friend you will be sorry for him.”
“Is Tiretta the guilty party, madam?”
“The same.”
“And what is his crime?”
“He is a villain; he has insulted me in the most monstrous manner.”
“I should not have thought him capable of doing so.”
“I daresay not, but then you are a moral man.”
“But what was the nature of his offence? You may confide in my secrecy.”
“I really couldn’t tell you, it’s quite out of the question; but I trust you will be able to guess it. Yesterday, during the execution of the wretched Damien, he strongly abused the position in which he found himself behind me.”
“I see; I understand what you mean; you need say no more. You have cause for anger, and he is to blame for acting in such a manner. But allow me to say that the case is not unexampled or even uncommon, and I think you might make some allowance for the strength of love, the close quarters, and above all for the youth and passion of the sinner. Moreover, the offence is one which may be expiated in a number of ways, provided the parties come to an agreement. Tiretta is young and a perfect gentleman, he is handsome and at bottom a good fellow; could not a marriage be arranged?”
I waited for a reply, but perceiving that the injured party kept silence (a circumstance which seemed to me a good omen) I went on.
“If marriage should not meet your views, we might try a lasting friendship, in which he could shew his repentance and prove himself deserving of pardon. Remember, madam, that Tiretta is only a man, and therefore subject to all the weaknesses of our poor human nature; and even you have your share of the blame.”
“I, sir?”
“Involuntarily, madam, involuntarily; not you but your charms led him astray. Nevertheless, without this incentive the circumstance would never have taken place, and I think you should consider your beauty as a mitigation of the offence.”
“You plead your cause well, sir, but I will do you justice and confess that all your remarks have been characterized by much Christian feeling. However, you are reasoning on false premises; you are ignorant of his real crime, yet how should you guess it?”
With this she burst into tears, leading me completely off the scent, and not knowing what to think.
“He can’t have stolen her purse,” said I to myself, “as I don’t think him capable of such an action; and if I did I’d blow his brains out.”
The afflicted lady soon dried her tears, and went on as follows:
“You are thinking of a deed which one might possibly succeed in reconciling with reason, and in making amends for; but the crime of which that brute has been guilty I dare scarcely imagine, as it is almost enough to drive me mad.”
“Good heavens! you can’t mean it? This is dreadful; do I hear you aright?”
“Yes. You are moved, I see, but such are the circumstances of the case. Pardon my tears, which flow from anger and the shame with which I am covered.”
“Yes, and from outraged religion, too.”
“Certainly, certainly. That is the chief source of my grief, and I should have mentioned it if I had not feared you were not so strongly attached to religion as myself.”
“Nobody, God be praised! could be more strongly attached to religion than I, and nothing can ever unloose the ties which bind me to it.”
“You will be grieved, then, to hear that I am destined to suffer eternal punishment, for I must and will be avenged.”
“Not so, madam, perish the thought, as I could not become your accomplice in such a design, and if you will not abandon it at least say nothing to me on the subject. I will promise you to tell him nothing, although as he lives with me the sacred laws of hospitality oblige me to give him due warning.”
“I thought he lived with the Lambertini”
“He left her yesterday. The connection between them was a criminal one, and I have drawn him back from the brink of the precipice.”
“You don’t mean to say so!”
“Yes, upon my word of honour.”
“You astonish one. This is very edifying. I don’t wish the young man’s death, but you must confess he owes me some reparation.”
“He does indeed. A charming Frenchwoman is not to be handled in the Italian manner without signal amends, but I can think of nothing at all commensurate with the offence. There is only one plan, which I will endeavour to carry out if you will agree to it.”
“What is that?”
“I will put the guilty party in your power without his knowing what is to happen, and I will leave you alone, so that you can wreak all your wrath upon him, provided you will allow me to be, unknown to him, in the next room, as I shall regard myself as responsible for his safety.”
“I consent. You will stay in this room, and he must be left in the other where I shall receive you, but take care he has no suspicion of your presence.”
“He shan’t dream of it. He will not even know where I am taking him, for he must not think that I have been informed of his misdoings. As soon as we be there, and the conversation becomes general, I shall leave the room, pretending to be going away.”
“When will you bring him? I long to cover him with confusion. I will make him tremble. I am curious to hear how he will justify himself for such an offence.”
“I can’t say, but I think and hope that your presence will make him eloquent, as I should like to see your differences adjusted.”
At one o’clock the Abbé des Forges arrived, and she made me sit down to dinner with them. This abbé was a pupil of the famous Bishop of Auxerre, who was still living. I talked so well on the subject of grace, and made so many quotations from St. Augustine, that the abbé and the devotee took me for a zealous Jansenista character with which my dress and appearance did not at all correspond. My sweetheart did not give me a single glance while the meal was going on, and thinking she had some motives I abstained from speaking to her.
After dinner, which, by the way, was a very good one, I promised the offended lady to bring her the culprit bound hand and foot next day, after the play was over. To put her at her ease I said I should walk, as I was certain that he would not recognize the house in the dark.
As soon as I saw Tiretta, I began with a seriocomic air to reproach him for the dreadful crime he had committed on the body of a lady in every way virtuous and respectable, but the mad fellow began to laugh, and it would have been waste of time for me to try to stop him.
“What!” said he, “she has had the courage to tell you all?”
“You don’t deny the fact, then?”
“If she says it is so, I don’t think I can give her the lie, but I am ready to swear that I don’t know how the land lay. In the position I was in it was impossible for me to say where I took up my dwelling. However, I will quiet her indignation, as I shall come to the point quickly, and not let her wait.”
“You will ruin the business if you don’t take care; be as long as you can; she will like that best, and it will be to your interest. Don’t hurry yourself, and never mind me, as I am sure to get on all right while you are changing anger into a softer passion. Remember not to know that I am in the house, and if you only stay with her a short time (which I don’t think will be the case) take a coach and be off. You know the least a pious woman like her can do will be to provide me with fire and company. Don’t forget that she is well-born like yourself. These women of quality are, no doubt, as immoral as any other women, since they are constructed of the same material, but they like to have their pride flattered by certain attentions. She is rich, a devote, and, what is more, inclined to pleasure; strive to gain her friendship ‘faciem ad faciem’, as the King of Prussia says. You may, perhaps, make your fortune.”
“If she asks you why you have left the Pope’s niece, take care not to tell her the reason. She will be pleased with your discretion. In short, do your best to expiate the enormity of your offence.”
“I have only to speak the truth. I went in in the dark.”
“That’s an odd reason, but it may seem convincing to a Frenchwoman.”
I need not tell the reader that I gave Tiretta a full account of my conversation with the lady. If any complain of this breach of honour, I must tell them that I had made a mental reservation not to keep my promise, and those who are acquainted with the morality of the children of Ignatius will understand that I was completely at my ease.
Next day we went to the opera, and afterwards, our plans made out, we walked to the house of the insulted and virtuous lady. She received us with great dignity, but yet there was an agreeable undercurrent in her voice and manner which I thought very promising.
“I never take supper,” she said, “but if you had forewarned me of your visit I should have got something for you.”
After telling her all the news I had heard in the theatre, I pretended to be obliged to go, and begged her to let me leave the count with her for a few minutes.
“If I am more than a quarter of an hour,” said I to the count, “don’t wait. Take a coach home and we shall see each other to-morrow.”
Instead of going downstairs I went into the next room, and two minutes after who should enter but my sweetheart, who looked charmed and yet puzzled at my appearance.
“I think I must be dreaming,” said she, “but my aunt has charged me not to leave you alone, and to tell her woman not to come upstairs unless she rings the bell. Your friend is with her, and she told me to speak low as he is not to know that you are here. What does it all mean?”
“You are curious, are you?”
“I confess I am in this instance, for all this mystery seems designed to excite curiosity.”
“Dearest, you shall know all; but how cold it is.”
“My aunt has told me to make a good fire, she has become liberal or rather lavish all of a sudden; look at the wax candles.”
“That’s a new thing, is it?”
“Oh, quite new.”
As soon as we were seated in front of the fire I began to tell her the story, to which she listened with all the attention a young girl can give to such a matter; but as I had thought it well to pass over some of the details, she could not properly understand what crime it was that Tiretta had committed. I was not sorry to be obliged to tell her the story in plain language, and to give more expression I employed the language of gesture, which made her blush and laugh at the same time. I then told her that, having taken up the question of the reparation that was due to her aunt, I had so arranged matters that I was certain of being alone with her all the time my friend was engaged. Thereupon I began to cover her pretty face with kisses, and as I allowed myself no other liberties she received my caresses as a proof of the greatness of my love and the purity of my feelings.
“Dearest,” she said, “what you say puzzles me; there are two things which I can’t understand. How could Tiretta succeed in committing this crime with my aunt, which I think would only be possible with the consent of the party attacked, but quite impossible without it; and this makes me believe that if the thing was done it was done with her hearty good will.”
“Very true, for if she did not like it she had only to change her position.”
“Not so much as that; she need only have kept the door shut.”
“There, sweetheart, you are wrong, for a properly-made man only asks you to keep still and he will overcome all obstacles. Moreover, I don’t expect that your aunt’s door is so well shut as yours.”
“I believe that I could defy all the Tirettas in the world.
“There’s another thing I don’t understand, and that is how my blessed aunt came to tell you all about it; for if she had any sense she might have known that it would only make you laugh. And what satisfaction does she expect to get from a brute like that, who possibly thinks the affair a matter of no consequence. I should think he would do the same to any woman who occupied the same position as my aunt.”
“You are right, for he told me he went in like a blind man, not knowing where he was going.”
“Your friend is a queer fellow, and if other men are like him I am sure I should have no feeling but contempt for them.”
“She has told me nothing about the satisfaction she is thinking of, and which she possibly feels quite sure of attaining; but I think I can guess what it will be namely, a formal declaration of love; and I suppose he will expiate his crime by becoming her lover, and doubtless this will be their wedding night.”
“The affair is getting amusing. I can’t believe it. My dear aunt is too anxious about her salvation; and how do you imagine the young man can ever fall in love with her, or play the part with such a face as hers before his eyes. Have you ever seen a countenance as disgusting as my aunt’s? Her skin is covered with pimples, her eyes distil humours, and her teeth and breath are enough to discourage any man. She’s hideous.”
“All that is nothing to a young spark of twenty-five; one is always ready for an assault at that age; not like me who only feel myself a man in presence of charms like yours, of which I long to be the lawful possessor.”
“You will find me the most affectionate of wives, and I feel quite sure that I shall have your heart in such good keeping that I shall never be afraid of losing it.”
We had talked thus pleasantly for an hour, and Tiretta was still with the aunt. I thought things pointed towards a reconciliation, and judged the matter was getting serious. I told my sweetheart my opinion, and asked her to give me something to eat.
“I can only give you,” said she, “some bread and cheese, a slice of ham, and some wine which my aunt pronounces excellent.”
“Bring them quick, then; I am fainting with hunger.”
She soon laid the table for two, and put on it all the food she had. The cheese was Roquefort, and the ham had been covered with jelly. About ten persons with reasonable appetites should have been able to sup on what there was; but (how I know not) the whole disappeared, and also two bottles of Chambertin, which I seem to taste now. My sweetheart’s eyes gleamed with pleasure: truly Chambertin and Roquefort are excellent things to restore an old love and to ripen a young one.
“Don’t you want to know what your aunt has been doing the last two hours with M. Sixtimes?”
“They are playing, perhaps; but there is a small hole in the wall, and I will look and see. I can only see the two candles, and the wicks are an inch long.”
“Didn’t I say so? Give me a coverlet and I will sleep on the sofa here, and do you go to bed. But let me look at it first.”
She made me come into her little room, where I saw a pretty bed, a prayer desk, and a large crucifix.
“Your bed is too small for you, dear heart.”
“Oh, not at all! I am very comfortable”; and so saying she laid down at full length.
“What a beautiful wife I shall have! Nay, don’t move, let me look at you so.” My hand began to press the bosom of her dress, where were imprisoned two spheres which seemed to lament their captivity. I went farther, I began to untie strings . . . for where does desire stop short?
“Sweetheart, I cannot resist, but you will not love me afterwards.”
“I will always love you.”
Soon her beautiful breasts were exposed to my burning kisses. The flame of my love lit another in her heart, and forgetting her former self she opened her arms to me, making me promise not to despise her, and what would one not promise! The modesty inherent in the sex, the fear of results, perhaps a kind of instinct which reveals to them the natural faithlessness of men make women ask for such promises, but what mistress, if really amorous, would even think of asking her lover to respect her in the moment of delirious ecstacy, when all one’s being is centred on the fulfilment of desire?
After we had passed an hour in these amorous toyings, which set my sweetheart on fire, her charms having never before been exposed to the burning lips or the free caresses of a man, I said to her,
“I grieve to leave you without having rendered to your beauty the greatest homage which it deserves so well.”
A sigh was her only answer.
It was cold, the fire was out, and I had to spend the night on the sofa.
“Give me a coverlet, dearest, that I may go away from you, for I should die here between love and cold if you made me abstain.”
“Lie where I have been, sweetheart. I will get up and rekindle the fire.”
She got up in all her naked charms, and as she put a stick to the fire the flame leapt up; I rose, I found her standing so as to display all her beauties, and I could refrain no longer. I pressed her to my heart, she returned my caresses, and till day-break we gave ourselves up to an ecstacy of pleasure.
We had spent four or five delicious hours on the sofa. She then left me, and after making a good fire she went to her room, and I remained on the sofa and slept till noon. I was awakened by Madame, who wore a graceful undress.
“Still asleep, M. Casanova?”
“Ah! good morning, madam, good morning. And what has become of my friend?”
“He has become mine, I have forgiven him.”
“What has he done to be worthy of so generous a pardon?”
“He proved to me that he made a mistake.”
“I am delighted to hear it; where is he?”
“He has gone home, where you will find him; but don’t say anything about your spending the night here, or he will think it was spent with my niece. I am very much obliged to you for what you have done, and I have only to ask you to be discreet.”
“You can count on me entirely, for I am grateful to you for having forgiven my friend.”
“Who would not do so? The dear young man is something more than mortal. If you knew how he loved me! I am grateful to him, and I have taken him to board for a year; he will be well lodged, well fed, and so on.”
“What a delightful plan! You have arranged the terms, I suppose.”
“All that will be settled in a friendly way, and we shall not need to have recourse to arbitration. We shall set out to-day for Villette, where I have a nice little house; for you know that it is necessary, at first, to act in such a way as to give no opportunity to slanderers. My lover will have all he wants, and whenever you, sir, honour us with your presence you will find a pretty room and a good bed at your disposal. All I am sorry for is that you will find it tedious; my poor niece is so dull.”
“Madam, your niece is delightful; she gave me yesterday evening an excellent supper and kept me company till three o’clock this morning.”
“Really? I can’t make it out how she gave you anything, as there was nothing in the house.”
“At any rate, madam, she gave me an excellent supper, of which there are no remains, and after keeping me company she went to bed, and I have had a good night on this comfortable sofa.”
“I am glad that you, like myself, were pleased with everything, but I did not think my niece so clever.”
“She is very clever, madam--in my eyes, at all events.”
“Oh, sir! you are a judge of wit, let us go and see her. She has locked her door. Come open the door, why have you shut yourself up, you little prude? what are you afraid of. My Casanova is incapable of hurting you.”
The niece opened her door and apologized for the disorder of her dress, but what costume could have suited her better? Her costume was dazzling.”
“There she is,” said the aunt, “and she is not so bad looking after all, but it is a pity she is so stupid. You were very right to give this gentleman a supper. I am much obliged to you for doing so. I have been playing all night, and when one is playing one only thinks of the game. I have determined on taking young Tiretta to board with us. He is an excellent and clever young man, and I am sure he will learn to speak French before long. Get dressed, my dear, as we must begin to pack. We shall set out this afternoon for Villette, and shall spend there the whole of the spring. There is no need, you know, to say anything about this to my sister.”
“I, aunt? Certainly not. Did I ever tell her anything on the other occasions?”
“Other occasions! You see what a silly girl it is. Do you mean by ‘other occasions,’ that I have been circumstanced like this before?”
“No, aunt. I only meant to say that I had never told her anything of what you did.”
“That’s right, my dear, but you must learn to express yourself properly. We dine at two, and I hope to have the pleasure of M. Casanova’s company at dinner; we will start immediately after the meal. Tiretta promised to bring his small portmanteau with him, and it will go with our luggage.”
After promising to dine with them, I bade the ladies good-bye; and I went home as fast as I could walk, for I was as curious as a woman to know what arrangements had been made.
“Well,” said I to Tiretta, “I find you have got a place. Tell me all about it.”
“My dear fellow, I have sold myself for a year. My pay is to be twenty-five louis a month, a good table, good lodging, etc., etc.”
“I congratulate you.”
“Do you think it is worth the trouble?”
“There’s no rose without a thorn. She told me you were something more than mortal.”
“I worked hard all night to prove it to her; but I am quite sure your time was better employed than mine.”
“I slept like a king. Dress yourself, as I am coming to dinner, and I want to see you set out for Villette. I shall come and see you there now and then, as your sweetheart has told me that a room shall be set apart for my convenience.”
We arrived at two o’clock. Madame dressed in a girlish style presented a singular appearance, but Mdlle. de la Meure’s beauty shone like a star. Love and pleasure had given her a new life, a new being. We had a capital dinner, as the good lady had made the repast dainty like herself; but in the dishes there was nothing absurd, while her whole appearance was comic in the highest degree. At four they all set out, and I spent my evening at the Italian comedy.
I was in love with Mdlle. de la Meure, but Silvia’s daughter, whose company at supper was all I had of her, weakened a love which now left nothing more to desire.
We complain of women who, though loving us and sure of our love, refuse us their favours; but we are wrong in doing so, for if they love they have good reason to fear lest they lose us in the moment of satisfying our desires. Naturally they should do all in their power to retain our hearts, and the best way to do so is to cherish our desire of possessing them; but desire is only kept alive by being denied: enjoyment kills it, since one cannot desire what one has got. I am, therefore, of opinion that women are quite right to refuse us. But if it be granted that the passions of the two sexes are of equal strength, how comes it that a man never refuses to gratify a woman who loves him and entreats him to be kind?
We cannot receive the argument founded on the fear of results, as that is a particular and not a general consideration. Our conclusion, then, will be that the reason lies in the fact that a man thinks more of the pleasure he imparts than that which he receives, and is therefore eager to impart his bliss to another. We know, also, that, as a general rule, women, when once enjoyed, double their love and affection. On the other hand, women think more of the pleasure they receive than of that which they impart, and therefore put off enjoyment as long as possible, since they fear that in giving themselves up they lose their chief good--their own pleasure. This feeling is peculiar to the sex, and is the only cause of coquetry, pardonable in a woman, detestable in a man.
Silvia’s daughter loved me, and she knew I loved her, although I had never said so, but women’s wit is keen. At the same time she endeavoured not to let me know her feelings, as she was afraid of encouraging me to ask favours of her, and she did not feel sure of her strength to refuse them; and she knew my inconstant nature. Her relations intended her for Clement, who had been teaching her the clavichord for the last three years. She knew of the arrangement and had no objection, for though she did not love him she liked him very well. Most girls are wedded without love, and they are not sorry for it afterwards. They know that by marriage they become of some consequence in the world, and they marry to have a house of their own and a good position in society. They seem to know that a husband and a lover need not be synonymous terms. At Paris men are actuated by the same views, and most marriages are matters of convenience. The French are jealous of their mistresses, but never of their wives.
There could be no doubt that M. Clement was very much in love, and Mdlle. Baletti was delighted that I noticed it, as she thought this would bring me to a declaration, and she was quite right. The departure of Mdlle. de la Meure had a good deal to do with my determination to declare myself; and I was very sorry to have done so afterwards, for after I had told her I loved her Clement was dismissed, and my position was worse than before. The man who declares his love for a woman in words wants to be sent to school again.
Three days after the departure of Tiretta, I took him what small belongings he had, and Madame seemed very glad to see me. The Abbé des Forges arrived just as we were sitting down to dinner, and though he had been very friendly to me at Paris he did not so much as look at me all through the meal, and treated Tiretta in the same way. I, for my part, took no notice of him, but Tiretta, not so patient as I, at last lost his temper and got up, begging Madame to tell him when she was going to have that fellow to dine with her. We rose from table without saying a word, and the silent abbé went with madam into another room.
Tiretta took me to see his room, which was handsomely furnished, and, as was right, adjoined his sweetheart’s. Whilst he was putting his things in order, Mdlle. de la Meure made me come and see my apartment. It was a very nice room on the ground floor, and facing hers. I took care to point out to her how easily I could pay her a visit after everyone was in bed, but she said we should not be comfortable in her room, and that she would consequently save me the trouble of getting out of bed. It will be guessed that I had no objections to make to this arrangement.
She then told me of her aunt’s folly about Tiretta.
“She believes,” said she, “that we do not know he sleeps with her.”
“Believes, or pretends to believe.”
“Possibly. She rang for me at eleven o’clock this morning and told me to go and ask him what kind of night he had passed. I did so, but seeing his bed had not been slept in I asked him if he had not been to sleep.
“‘No,’ said he, ‘I have been writing all night, but please don’t say anything about it to your aunt: I promised with all my heart to be as silent as the grave.’”
“Does he make sheep’s eyes at you?”
“No, but if he did it would be all the same. Though he is not over sharp he knows, I think, what I think of him.”
“Why have you such a poor opinion of him?”
“Why? My aunt pays him. I think selling one’s self is a dreadful idea.”
“But you pay me.”
“Yes, but in the same coin as you give me.”
The old aunt was always calling her niece stupid, but on the contrary I thought her very clever, and as virtuous as clever. I should never have seduced her if she had not been brought up in a convent.
I went back to Tiretta, and had some pleasant conversation with him. I asked him how he liked his place.
“I don’t like it much, but as it costs me nothing I am not absolutely wretched.”
“But her face!”
“I don’t look at it, and there’s one thing I like about her--she is so clean.”
“Does she take good care of you?”
“O yes, she is full of feeling for me. This morning she refused the greeting I offered her. ‘I am sure,’ said she, ‘that my refusal will pain you, but your health is so dear to me that I feel bound to look after it.’”