I Fall in Love with Christine, and Find a Husband Worthy of
Her--Christine's Wedding
"Those gondoliers," said the elderly priest, ad dressing me in order to
begin the conversation, "are very fortunate. They took us up at the
Rialto for thirty soldi, on condition that they would be allowed to
embark other passengers, and here is one already; they will certainly
find more."
"When I am in a gondola, reverend sir, there is no room left for any more
passengers."
So saying, I give forty more soldi to the gondoliers, who, highly pleased
with my generosity, thank me and call me excellency. The good priest,
accepting that title as truly belonging to me, entreats my pardon for not
having addressed me as such.
"I am not a Venetian nobleman, reverend sir, and I have no right to the
title of Excellenza."
"Ah!" says the young lady, "I am very glad of it."
"Why so, signora?"
"Because when I find myself near a nobleman I am afraid. But I suppose
that you are an illustrissimo."
"Not even that, signora; I am only an advocate's clerk."
"So much the better, for I like to be in the company of persons who do
not think themselves above me. My father was a farmer, brother of my
uncle here, rector of P----, where I was born and bred. As I am an only
daughter I inherited my father's property after his death, and I shall
likewise be heiress to my mother, who has been ill a long time and cannot
live much longer, which causes me a great deal of sorrow; but it is the
doctor who says it. Now, to return to my subject, I do not suppose that
there is much difference between an advocate's clerk and the daughter of
a rich farmer. I only say so for the sake of saying something, for I know
very well that, in travelling, one must accept all sorts of companions:
is it not so, uncle?"
"Yes, my dear Christine, and as a proof you see that this gentleman has
accepted our company without knowing who or what we are."
"But do you think I would have come if I had not been attracted by the
beauty of your lovely niece?"
At these words the good people burst out laughing. As I did not think
that there was anything very comic in what I had said, I judged that my
travelling companions were rather simple, and I was not sorry to find
them so.
"Why do you laugh so heartily, beautiful 'demigella'? Is it to shew me
your fine teeth? I confess that I have never seen such a splendid set in
Venice."
"Oh! it is not for that, sir, although everyone in Venice has paid me the
same compliment. I can assure you that in P---- all the 'girls have teeth
as fine as mine. Is it not a fact, uncle?"
"Yes, my dear niece."
"I was laughing, sir, at a thing which I will never tell you."
"Oh! tell me, I entreat you."
"Oh! certainly not, never."
"I will tell you myself," says the curate.
"You will not," she exclaims, knitting her beautiful eyebrows. "If you do
I will go away."
"I defy you to do it, my dear. Do you know what she said, sir, when she
saw you on the wharf? 'Here is a very handsome young man who is looking
at me, and would not be sorry to be with us.' And when she saw that the
gondoliers were putting back for you to embark she was delighted."
While the uncle was speaking to me, the indignant niece was slapping him
on the shoulder.
"Why are you angry, lovely Christine, at my hearing that you liked my
appearance, when I am so glad to let you know how truly charming I think
you?"
"You are glad for a moment. Oh! I know the Venetians thoroughly now. They
have all told me that they were charmed with me, and not one of those I
would have liked ever made a declaration to me."
"What sort of declaration did you want?"
"There's only one sort for me, sir; the declaration leading to a good
marriage in church, in the sight of all men. Yet we remained a fortnight
in Venice; did we not, uncle?"
"This girl," said the uncle, "is a good match, for she possesses three
thousand crowns. She has always said that she would marry only a
Venetian, and I have accompanied her to Venice to give her an opportunity
of being known. A worthy woman gave us hospitality for a fortnight, and
has presented my niece in several houses where she made the acquaintance
of marriageable young men, but those who pleased her would not hear of
marriage, and those who would have been glad to marry her did not take
her fancy."
"But do you imagine, reverend sir, that marriages can be made like
omelets? A fortnight in Venice, that is nothing; you ought to live there
at least six months. Now, for instance, I think your niece sweetly
pretty, and I should consider myself fortunate if the wife whom God
intends for me were like her, but, even if she offered me now a dowry of
fifty thousand crowns on condition that our wedding takes place
immediately, I would refuse her. A prudent young man wants to know the
character of a girl before he marries her, for it is neither money nor
beauty which can ensure happiness in married life."
"What do you mean by character?" asked Christine; "is it a beautiful
hand-writing?"
"No, my dear. I mean the qualities of the mind and the heart. I shall
most likely get married sometime, and I have been looking for a wife for
the last three years, but I am still looking in vain. I have known
several young girls almost as lovely as you are, and all with a good
marriage portion, but after an acquaintance of two or three months I
found out that they could not make me happy."
"In what were they deficient?"
"Well, I will tell you, because you are not acquainted with them, and
there can be no indiscretion on my part. One whom I certainly would have
married, for I loved her dearly, was extremely vain. She would have
ruined me in fashionable clothes and by her love for luxuries. Fancy! she
was in the habit of paying one sequin every month to the hair-dresser,
and as much at least for pomatum and perfumes."
"She was a giddy, foolish girl. Now, I spend only ten soldi in one year
on wax which I mix with goat's grease, and there I have an excellent
pomatum."
"Another, whom I would have married two years ago, laboured under a
disease which would have made me unhappy; as soon as I knew of it, I
ceased my visits."
"What disease was it?"
"A disease which would have prevented her from being a mother, and, if I
get married, I wish to have children."
"All that is in God's hands, but I know that my health is excellent. Is
it not, uncle?"
"Another was too devout, and that does not suit me. She was so
over-scrupulous that she was in the habit of going to her confessor twice
a week, and every time her confession lasted at least one hour. I want my
wife to be a good Christian, but not bigoted."
"She must have been a great sinner, or else she was very foolish. I
confess only once a month, and get through everything in two minutes. Is
it not true, uncle? and if you were to ask me any questions, uncle, I
should not know what more to say."
"One young lady thought herself more learned than I, although she would,
every minute, utter some absurdity. Another was always low-spirited, and
my wife must be cheerful."
"Hark to that, uncle! You and my mother are always chiding me for my
cheerfulness."
"Another, whom I did not court long, was always afraid of being alone
with me, and if I gave her a kiss she would run and tell her mother."
"How silly she must have been! I have never yet listened to a lover, for
we have only rude peasants in P----, but I know very well that there are
some things which I would not tell my mother."
"One had a rank breath; another painted her face, and, indeed, almost
every young girl is guilty of that fault. I am afraid marriage is out of
the question for me, because I want, for instance, my wife to have black
eyes, and in our days almost every woman colours them by art; but I
cannot be deceived, for I am a good judge."
"Are mine black?"
"You are laughing?"
"I laugh because your eyes certainly appear to be black, but they are not
so in reality. Never mind, you are very charming in spite of that."
"Now, that is amusing. You pretend to be a good judge, yet you say that
my eyes are dyed black. My eyes, sir, whether beautiful or ugly, are now
the same as God made them. Is it not so, uncle?"
"I never had any doubt of it, my dear niece."
"And you do not believe me, sir?"
"No, they are too beautiful for me to believe them natural."
"Oh, dear me! I cannot bear it."
"Excuse me, my lovely damigella, I am afraid I have been too sincere."
After that quarrel we remained silent. The good curate smiled now and
then, but his niece found it very hard to keep down her sorrow.
At intervals I stole a look at her face, and could see that she was very
near crying. I felt sorry, for she was a charming girl. In her hair,
dressed in the fashion of wealthy countrywomen, she had more than one
hundred sequins' worth of gold pins and arrows which fastened the plaits
of her long locks as dark as ebony. Heavy gold ear-rings, and a long
chain, which was wound twenty times round her snowy neck, made a fine
contrast to her complexion, on which the lilies and the roses were
admirably blended. It was the first time that I had seen a country beauty
in such splendid apparel. Six years before, Lucie at Pasean had
captivated me, but in a different manner.
Christine did not utter a single word, she was in despair, for her eyes
were truly of the greatest beauty, and I was cruel enough to attack them.
She evidently hated me, and her anger alone kept back her tears. Yet I
would not undeceive her, for I wanted her to bring matters to a climax.
When the gondola had entered the long canal of Marghera, I asked the
clergyman whether he had a carriage to go to Treviso, through which place
he had to pass to reach P----.
"I intended to walk," said the worthy man, "for my parish is poor and I
am the same, but I will try to obtain a place for Christine in some
carriage travelling that way."
"You would confer a real kindness on me if you would both accept a seat
in my chaise; it holds four persons, and there is plenty of room."
"It is a good fortune which we were far from expecting"
"Not at all, uncle; I will not go with this gentleman."
"Why not, my dear niece?"
"Because I will not."
"Such is the way," I remarked, without looking at her, "that sincerity is
generally rewarded."
"Sincerity, sir! nothing of the sort," she exclaimed, angrily, "it is
sheer wickedness. There can be no true black eyes now for you in the
world, but, as you like them, I am very glad of it."
"You are mistaken, lovely Christine, for I have the means of ascertaining
the truth."
"What means?"
"Only to wash the eyes with a little lukewarm rose-water; or if the lady
cries, the artificial colour is certain to be washed off."
At those words, the scene changed as if by the wand of a conjuror. The
face of the charming girl, which had expressed nothing but indignation,
spite and disdain, took an air of contentment and of placidity delightful
to witness. She smiled at her uncle who was much pleased with the change
in her countenance, for the offer of the carriage had gone to his heart.
"Now you had better cry a little, my dear niece, and 'il signore' will
render full justice to your eyes."
Christine cried in reality, but it was immoderate laughter that made her
tears flow.
That species of natural originality pleased me greatly, and as we were
going up the steps at the landing-place, I offered her my full apologies;
she accepted the carriage. I ordered breakfast, and told a 'vetturino' to
get a very handsome chaise ready while we had our meal, but the curate
said that he must first of all go and say his mass.
"Very well, reverend sir, we will hear it, and you must say it for my
intention."
I put a silver ducat in his hand.
"It is what I am in the habit of giving," I observed.
My generosity surprised him so much that he wanted to kiss my hand. We
proceeded towards the church, and I offered my arm to the niece who, not
knowing whether she ought to accept it or not, said to me,
"Do you suppose that I cannot walk alone?"
"I have no such idea, but if I do not give you my arm, people will think
me wanting in politeness."
"Well, I will take it. But now that I have your arm, what will people
think?"
"Perhaps that we love each other and that we make a very nice couple."
"And if anyone should inform your mistress that we are in love with each
other, or even that you have given your arm to a young girl?"
"I have no mistress, and I shall have none in future, because I could not
find a girl as pretty as you in all Venice."
"I am very sorry for you, for we cannot go again to Venice; and even if
we could, how could we remain there six months? You said that six months
were necessary to know a girl well."
"I would willingly defray all your expenses."
"Indeed? Then say so to my uncle, and he will think it over, for I could
not go alone."
"In six months you would know me likewise."
"Oh! I know-you very well already."
"Could you accept a man like me?"
"Why not?"
"And will you love me?"
"Yes, very much, when you are my husband."
I looked at the young girl with astonishment. She seemed to me a princess
in the disguise of a peasant girl. Her dress, made of 'gros de Tours' and
all embroidered in gold, was very handsome, and cost certainly twice as
much as the finest dress of a Venetian lady. Her bracelets, matching the
neckchain, completed her rich toilet. She had the figure of a nymph, and
the new fashion of wearing a mantle not having yet reached her village, I
could see the most magnificent bosom, although her dress was fastened up
to the neck. The end of the richly-embroidered skirt did not go lower
than the ankles, which allowed me to admire the neatest little foot and
the lower part of an exquisitely moulded leg. Her firm and easy walk, the
natural freedom of all her movements, a charming look which seemed to
say, "I am very glad that you think me pretty," everything, in short,
caused the ardent fire of amorous desires to circulate through my veins.
I could not conceive how such a lovely girl could have spent a fortnight
in Venice without finding a man to marry or to deceive her. I was
particularly delighted with her simple, artless way of talking, which in
the city might have been taken for silliness.
Absorbed in my thoughts, and having resolved in my own mind on rendering
brilliant homage to her charms, I waited impatiently for the end of the
mass.
After breakfast I had great difficulty in convincing the curate that my
seat in the carriage was the last one, but I found it easier to persuade
him on our arrival in Treviso to remain for dinner and for supper at a
small, unfrequented inn, as I took all the expense upon myself. He
accepted very willingly when I added that immediately after supper a
carriage would be in readiness to convey him to P----, where he would
arrive in an hour after a peasant journey by moonlight. He had nothing to
hurry him on, except his wish to say mass in his own church the next
morning.
I ordered a fire and a good dinner, and the idea struck me that the
curate himself might pledge the ring for me, and thus give me the
opportunity of a short interview with his niece. I proposed it to him,
saying that I could not very well go myself, as I did not wish to be
known. He undertook the commission at once, expressing his pleasure at
doing something to oblige me.
He left us, and I remained alone with Christine. I spent an hour with her
without trying to give her even a kiss, although I was dying to do so,
but I prepared her heart to burn with the same desires which were already
burning in me by those words which so easily inflame the imagination of a
young 'girl.
The curate came back and returned me the ring, saying that it could not
be pledged until the day after the morrow, in consequence of the Festival
of the Holy Virgin. He had spoken to the cashier, who had stated that if
I liked the bank would lend double the sum I had asked.
"My dear sir," I said, "you would greatly oblige me if you would come
back here from P---- to pledge the ring yourself. Now that it has been
offered once by you, it might look very strange if it were brought by
another person. Of course I will pay all your expenses."
"I promise you to come back."
I hoped he would bring his niece with him.
I was seated opposite to Christine during the dinner, and discovered
fresh charms in her every minute, but, fearing I might lose her
confidence if I tried to obtain some slight favour, I made up my mind not
to go to work too quickly, and to contrive that the curate should take
her again to Venice. I thought that there only I could manage to bring
love into play and to give it the food it requires.
"Reverend sir," I said, "let me advise you to take your niece again to
Venice. I undertake to defray all expenses, and to find an honest woman
with whom your Christine will be as safe as with her own mother. I want
to know her well in order to make her my wife, and if she comes to Venice
our marriage is certain."
"Sir, I will bring my niece myself to Venice as soon as you inform me
that you have found a worthy woman with whom I can leave her in safety."
While we were talking I kept looking at Christine, and I could see her
smile with contentment.
"My dear Christine," I said, "within a week I shall have arranged the
affair. In the meantime, I will write to you. I hope that you have no
objection to correspond with me."
"My uncle will write for me, for I have never been taught writing."
"What, my dear child! you wish to become the wife of a Venetian, and you
cannot write."
"Is it then necessary to know how to write in order to become a wife? I
can read well."
"That is not enough, and although a girl can be a wife and a mother
without knowing how to trace one letter, it is generally admitted that a
young girl ought to be able to write. I wonder you never learned."
"There is no wonder in that, for not one girl in our village can do it.
Ask my uncle."
"It is perfectly true, but there is not one who thinks of getting married
in Venice, and as you wish for a Venetian husband you must learn."
"Certainly," I said, "and before you come to Venice, for everybody would
laugh at you, if you could not write. I see that it makes you sad, my
dear, but it cannot be helped."
"I am sad, because I cannot learn writing in a week."
"I undertake," said her uncle, "to teach you in a fortnight, if you will
only practice diligently. You will then know enough to be able to improve
by your own exertions."
"It is a great undertaking, but I accept it; I promise you to work night
and day, and to begin to-morrow."
After dinner, I advised the priest not to leave that evening, to rest
during the night, and I observed that, by going away before day-break, he
would reach P---- in good time, and feel all the better for it. I made the
same proposal to him in the evening, and when he saw that his niece was
sleepy, he was easily persuaded to remain. I called for the innkeeper,
ordered a carriage for the clergyman, and desired that a fire might be
lit for me in the next room where I would sleep, but the good priest said
that it was unnecessary, because there were two large beds in our room,
that one would be for me and the other for him and his niece.
"We need not undress," he added, "as we mean to leave very early, but you
can take off your clothes, sir, because you are not going with us, and
you will like to remain in bed to-morrow morning."
"Oh!" remarked Christine, "I must undress myself, otherwise I could not
sleep, but I only want a few minutes to get ready in the morning."
I said nothing, but I was amazed. Christine then, lovely and charming
enough to wreck the chastity of a Xenocrates, would sleep naked with her
uncle! True, he was old, devout, and without any of the ideas which might
render such a position dangerous, yet the priest was a man, he had
evidently felt like all men, and he ought to have known the danger he was
exposing himself to. My carnal-mindedness could not realize such a state
of innocence. But it was truly innocent, so much so that he did it
openly, and did not suppose that anyone could see anything wrong in it. I
saw it all plainly, but I was not accustomed to such things, and felt
lost in wonderment. As I advanced in age and in experience, I have seen
the same custom established in many countries amongst honest people whose
good morals were in no way debased by it, but it was amongst good people,
and I do not pretend to belong to that worthy class.
We had had no meat for dinner, and my delicate palate was not
over-satisfied. I went down to the kitchen myself, and I told the
landlady that I wanted the best that could be procured in Treviso for
supper, particularly in wines.
"If you do not mind the expense, sir, trust to me, and I undertake to
please you. I will give you some Gatta wine."
"All right, but let us have supper early."
When I returned to our room, I found Christine caressing the cheeks of
her old uncle, who was laughing; the good man was seventy-five years old.
"Do you know what is the matter?" he said to me; "my niece is caressing
me because she wants me to leave her here until my return. She tells me
that you were like brother and sister during the hour you have spent
alone together this morning, and I believe it, but she does not consider
that she would be a great trouble to you."
"Not at all, quite the reverse, she will afford me great pleasure, for I
think her very charming. As to our mutual behaviour, I believe you can
trust us both to do our duty."
"I have no doubt of it. Well, I will leave her under your care until the
day after to-morrow. I will come back early in the morning so as to
attend to your business."
This extraordinary and unexpected arrangement caused the blood to rush to
my head with such violence that my nose bled profusely for a quarter of
an hour. It did not frighten me, because I was used to such accidents,
but the good priest was in a great fright, thinking that it was a serious
haemorrhage.
When I had allayed his anxiety, he left us on some business of his own,
saying that he would return at night-fall. I remained alone with the
charming, artless Christine, and lost no time in thanking her for the
confidence she placed in me.
"I can assure you," she said, "that I wish you to have a thorough
knowledge of me; you will see that I have none of the faults which have
displeased you so much in the young ladies you have known in Venice, and
I promise to learn writing immediately."
"You are charming and true; but you must be discreet in P----, and
confide to no one that we have entered into an agreement with each other.
You must act according to your uncle's instructions, for it is to him
that I intend to write to make all arrangements."
"You may rely upon my discretion. I will not say anything even to my
mother, until you give me permission to do so."
I passed the afternoon, in denying myself even the slightest liberties
with my lovely companion, but falling every minute deeper in love with
her. I told her a few love stories which I veiled sufficiently not to
shock her modesty. She felt interested, and I could see that, although
she did not always understand, she pretended to do so, in order not to
appear ignorant.
When her uncle returned, I had arranged everything in my mind to make her
my wife, and I resolved on placing her, during her stay in Venice, in the
house of the same honest widow with whom I had found a lodging for my
beautiful Countess A---- S----.
We had a delicious supper. I had to teach Christine how to eat oysters
and truffles, which she then saw for the first time. Gatta wine is like
champagne, it causes merriment without intoxicating, but it cannot be
kept for more than one year. We went to bed before midnight, and it was
broad daylight when I awoke. The curate had left the room so quietly that
I had not heard him.
I looked towards the other bed, Christine was asleep. I wished her good
morning, she opened her eyes, and leaning on her elbow, she smiled
sweetly.
"My uncle has gone. I did not hear him."
"Dearest Christine, you are as lovely as one of God's angels. I have a
great longing to give you a kiss."
"If you long for a kiss, my dear friend, come and give me one."
I jump out of my bed, decency makes her hide her face. It was cold, and I
was in love. I find myself in her arms by one of those spontaneous
movements which sentiment alone can cause, and we belong to each other
without having thought of it, she happy and rather confused, I delighted,
yet unable to realize the truth of a victory won without any contest.
An hour passed in the midst of happiness, during which we forgot the
whole world. Calm followed the stormy gusts of passionate love, and we
gazed at each other without speaking.
Christine was the first to break the silence
"What have we done?" she said, softly and lovingly.
"We have become husband and wife."
"What will my uncle say to-morrow?"
"He need not know anything about it until he gives us the nuptial
benediction in his own church."
"And when will he do so?"
"As soon as we have completed all the arrangements necessary for a
public marriage."
"How long will that be?"
"About a month."
"We cannot be married during Lent."
"I will obtain permission."
"You are not deceiving me?"
"No, for I adore you."
"Then, you no longer want to know me better?"
"No; I know you thoroughly now, and I feel certain that you will make me
happy."
"And will you make me happy, too?"
"I hope so."
"Let us get up and go to church. Who could have believed that, to get a
husband, it was necessary not to go to Venice, but to come back from that
city!"
We got up, and, after partaking of some breakfast, we went to hear mass.
The morning passed off quickly, but towards dinner-time I thought that
Christine looked different to what she did the day before, and I asked
her the reason of that change.
"It must be," she said, "the same reason which causes you to be
thoughtful."
"An air of thoughtfulness, my dear, is proper to love when it finds
itself in consultation with honour. This affair has become serious, and
love is now compelled to think and consider. We want to be married in the
church, and we cannot do it before Lent, now that we are in the last days
of carnival; yet we cannot wait until Easter, it would be too long. We
must therefore obtain a dispensation in order to be married. Have I not
reason to be thoughtful?"
Her only answer was to come and kiss me tenderly. I had spoken the truth,
yet I had not told her all my reasons for being so pensive. I found
myself drawn into an engagement which was not disagreeable to me, but I
wished it had not been so very pressing. I could not conceal from myself
that repentance was beginning to creep into my amorous and well-disposed
mind, and I was grieved at it. I felt certain, however, that the charming
girl would never have any cause to reproach me for her misery.
We had the whole evening before us, and as she had told me that she had
never gone to a theatre, I resolved on affording her that pleasure. I
sent for a Jew from whom I procured everything necessary to disguise her,
and we went to the theatre. A man in love enjoys no pleasure but that
which he gives to the woman he loves. After the performance was over, I
took her to the Casino, and her astonishment made me laugh when she saw
for the first time a faro bank. I had not money enough to play myself,
but I had more than enough to amuse her and to let her play a reasonable
game. I gave her ten sequins, and explained what she had to do. She did
not even know the cards, yet in less than an hour she had won one hundred
sequins. I made her leave off playing, and we returned to the inn. When
we were in our room, I told her to see how much money she had, and when I
assured her that all that gold belonged to her, she thought it was a
dream.
"Oh! what will my uncle say?" she exclaimed.
We had a light supper, and spent a delightful night, taking good care to
part by day-break, so as not to be caught in the same bed by the worthy
ecclesiastic. He arrived early and found us sleeping soundly in our
respective beds. He woke me, and I gave him the ring which he went to
pledge immediately. When he returned two hours later, he saw us dressed
and talking quietly near the fire. As soon as he came in, Christine
rushed to embrace him, and she shewed him all the gold she had in her
possession. What a pleasant surprise for the good old priest! He did not
know how to express his wonder! He thanked God for what he called a
miracle, and he concluded by saying that we were made to insure each
other's happiness.
The time to part had come. I promised to pay them a visit in the first
days of Lent, but on condition that on my arrival in P---- I would not
find anyone informed of my name or of my concerns. The curate gave me the
certificate of birth of his niece and the account of her possessions. As
soon as they had gone I took my departure for Venice, full of love for
the charming girl, and determined on keeping my engagement with her. I
knew how easy it would be for me to convince my three friends that my
marriage had been irrevocably written in the great book of fate.
My return caused the greatest joy to the three excellent men, because,
not being accustomed to see me three days absent, M. Dandolo and M.
Barbaro were afraid of some accident having befallen me; but M. de
Bragadin's faith was stronger, and he allayed their fears, saying to them
that, with Paralis watching over me, I could not be in any danger.
The very next day I resolved on insuring Christine's happiness without
making her my wife. I had thought of marrying her when I loved her better
than myself, but after obtaining possession the balance was so much on my
side that my self-love proved stronger than my love for Christine. I
could not make up my mind to renounce the advantages, the hopes which I
thought were attached to my happy independence. Yet I was the slave of
sentiment. To abandon the artless, innocent girl seemed to me an awful
crime of which I could not be guilty, and the mere idea of it made me
shudder. I was aware that she was, perhaps, bearing in her womb a living
token of our mutual love, and I shivered at the bare possibility that her
confidence in me might be repaid by shame and everlasting misery.
I bethought myself of finding her a husband in every way better than
myself; a husband so good that she would not only forgive me for the
insult I should thus be guilty of towards her, but also thank me at the
end, and like me all the better for my deceit.
To find such a husband could not be very difficult, for Christine was not
only blessed with wonderful beauty, and with a well-established
reputation for virtue, but she was also the possessor of a fortune
amounting to four thousand Venetian ducats.
Shut up in a room with the three worshippers of my oracle, I consulted
Paralis upon the affair which I had so much at heart. The answer was:
"Serenus must attend to it."
Serenus was the cabalistic name of M. de Bragadin, and the excellent man
immediately expressed himself ready to execute all the orders of Paralis.
It was my duty to inform him of those orders.
"You must," I said to him, "obtain from the Holy Father a dispensation
for a worthy and virtuous girl, so as to give her the privilege of
marrying during Lent in the church of her village; she is a young country
girl. Here is her certificate of birth. The husband is not yet known; but
it does not matter, Paralis undertakes to find one."
"Trust to me," said my father, "I will write at once to our ambassador in
Rome, and I will contrive to have my letter sent by special express. You
need not be anxious, leave it all to me, I will make it a business of
state, and I must obey Paralis all the more readily that I foresee that
the intended husband is one of us four. Indeed, we must prepare ourselves
to obey."
I had some trouble in keeping my laughter down, for it was in my power to
metamorphose Christine into a grand Venetian lady, the wife of a senator;
but that was not my intention. I again consulted the oracle in order to
ascertain who would be the husband of the young girl, and the answer was
that M. Dandolo was entrusted with the care of finding one, young,
handsome, virtuous, and able to serve the Republic, either at home or
abroad. M. Dandolo was to consult me before concluding any arrangements.
I gave him courage for his task by informing him that the girl had a
dowry of four thousand ducats, but I added that his choice was to be made
within a fortnight. M. de Bragadin, delighted at not being entrusted with
the commission, laughed heartily.
Those arrangements made me feel at peace with myself. I was certain that
the husband I wanted would be found, and I only thought of finishing the
carnival gaily, and of contriving to find my purse ready for a case of
emergency.
Fortune soon rendered me possessor of a thousand sequins. I paid my
debts, and the licence for the marriage having arrived from Rome ten days
after M. de Bragadin had applied for it, I gave him one hundred ducats,
that being the sum it had cost. The dispensation gave Christine the right
of being married in any church in Christendom, she would only have to
obtain the seal of the episcopal court of the diocese in which the
marriage was to take place, and no publication of banns was required. We
wanted, therefore, but one thing--a trifling one, namely, the husband. M.
Dandolo had already proposed three or four to me, but I had refused them
for excellent reasons. At last he offered one who suited me exactly.
I had to take the diamond ring out of pledge, and not wishing to do it
myself, I wrote to the priest making an appointment in Treviso. I was
not, of course, surprised when I found that he was accompanied by his
lovely niece, who, thinking that I had come to complete all arrangements
for our marriage, embraced me without ceremony, and I did the same. If
the uncle had not been present, I am afraid that those kisses would have
caused all my heroism to vanish. I gave the curate the dispensation, and
the handsome features of Christine shone with joy. She certainly could
not imagine that I had been working so actively for others, and, as I was
not yet certain of anything, I did not undeceive her then. I promised to
be in P---- within eight or ten days, when we would complete all necessary
arrangements. After dinner, I gave the curate the ticket for the ring and
the money to take it out of pledge, and we retired to rest. This time,
very fortunately, there was but one bed in the room, and I had to take
another chamber for myself.
The next morning, I went into Christine's room, and found her in bed. Her
uncle had gone out for my diamond ring, and alone with that lovely girl,
I found that I had, when necessary, complete control over my passions.
Thinking that she was not to be my wife, and that she would belong to
another, I considered it my duty to silence my desires. I kissed her, but
nothing more.
I spent one hour with her, fighting like Saint Anthony against the carnal
desires of my nature. I could see the charming girl full of love and of
wonder at my reserve, and I admired her virtue in the natural modesty
which prevented her from making the first advances. She got out of bed
and dressed herself without shewing any disappointment. She would, of
course, have felt mortified if she had had the slightest idea that I
despised her, or that I did not value her charms.
Her uncle returned, gave me the ring, and we had dinner, after which he
treated me to a wonderful exhibition. Christine had learned how to write,
and, to give me a proof of her talent, she wrote very fluently and very
prettily in my presence.
We parted, after my promising to come back again within ten days, and I
returned to Venice.
On the second Sunday in Lent, M. Dandolo told me with an air of triumph
that the fortunate husband had been found, and that there was no doubt of
my approval of the new candidate. He named Charles---- whom I knew by
sight--very handsome young man, of irreproachable conduct, and about
twenty-two years of age. He was clerk to M. Ragionato and god-son of
Count Algarotti, a sister of whom had married M. Dandolo's brother.
"Charles," said M. Dandolo to me, "has lost his father and his mother,
and I feel satisfied that his godfather will guarantee the dowry brought
by his wife. I have spoken to him, and I believe him disposed to marry an
honest girl whose dowry would enable him to purchase M. Ragionato's
office."
"It seems to promise very well, but I cannot decide until I have seen
him."
"I have invited him to dine with us to-morrow."
The young man came, and I found him worthy of all M. Dandolo's praise. We
became friends at once; he had some taste for poetry, I read some of my
productions to him, and having paid him a visit the following day, he
shewed me several pieces of his own composition which were well written.
He introduced me to his aunt, in whose house he lived with his sister,
and I was much pleased with their friendly welcome. Being alone with him
in his room, I asked him what he thought of love.
"I do not care for love," he answered: "but I should like to get married
in order to have a house of my own."
When I returned to the palace, I told M. Dandolo that he might open the
affair with Count Algarotti, and the count mentioned it to Charles, who
said that he could not give any answer, either one way or the other,
until he should have seen the young girl, talked with her, and enquired
about her reputation. As for Count Algarotti, he was ready to be
answerable for his god-son, that is to guarantee four thousand ducats to
the wife, provided her dowry was worth that amount. Those were only the
preliminaries; the rest belonged to my province.
Dandolo having informed Charles that the matter was entirely in my hands,
he called on me and enquired when I would be kind enough to introduce him
to the young person. I named the day, adding that it was necessary to
devote a whole day to the visit, as she resided at a distance of twenty
miles from Venice, that we would dine with her and return the same
evening. He promised to be ready for me by day-break. I immediately sent
an express to the curate to inform him of the day on which I would call
with a friend of mine whom I wished to introduce to his niece.
On the appointed day, Charles was punctual. I took care to let him know
along the road that I had made the acquaintance of the young girl and of
her uncle as travelling companions from Venice to Mestra about one month
before, and that I would have offered myself as a husband, if I had been
in a position to guarantee the dowry of four thousand ducats. I did not
think it necessary to go any further in my confidences.
We arrived at the good priest's house two hours before mid-day, and soon
after our arrival, Christine came in with an air of great ease,
expressing all her pleasure at seeing me. She only bowed to Charles,
enquiring from me whether he was likewise a clerk.
Charles answered that he was clerk at Ragionato.
She pretended to understand, in order not to appear ignorant.
"I want you to look at my writing," she said to me, "and afterwards we
will go and see my mother."
Delighted at the praise bestowed upon her writing by Charles, when he
heard that she had learned only one month, she invited us to follow her.
Charles asked her why she had waited until the age of nineteen to study
writing.
"Well, sir, what does it matter to you? Besides, I must tell you that I
am seventeen, and not nineteen years of age."
Charles entreated her to excuse him, smiling at the quickness of her
answer.
She was dressed like a simple country girl, yet very neatly, and she wore
her handsome gold chains round her neck and on her arms. I told her to
take my arm and that of Charles, which she did, casting towards me a look
of loving obedience. We went to her mother's house; the good woman was
compelled to keep her bed owing to sciatica. As we entered the room, a
respectable-looking man, who was seated near the patient, rose at the
sight of Charles, and embraced him affectionately. I heard that he was
the family physician, and the circumstance pleased me much.
After we had paid our compliments to the good woman, the doctor enquired
after Charles's aunt and sister; and alluding to the sister who was
suffering from a secret disease, Charles desired to say a few words to
him in private; they left the room together. Being alone with the mother
and Christine, I praised Charles, his excellent conduct, his high
character, his business abilities, and extolled the happiness of the
woman who would be his wife. They both confirmed my praises by saying
that everything I said of him could be read on his features. I had no
time to lose, so I told Christine to be on her guard during dinner, as
Charles might possibly be the husband whom God had intended for her.
"For me?"
"Yes, for you. Charles is one of a thousand; you would be much happier
with him than you could be with me; the doctor knows him, and you could
ascertain from him everything which I cannot find time to tell you now
about my friend."
The reader can imagine all I suffered in making this declaration, and my
surprise when I saw the young girl calm and perfectly composed! Her
composure dried the tears already gathering in my eyes. After a short
silence, she asked me whether I was certain that such a handsome young
man would have her. That question gave me an insight into Christine's
heart and feelings, and quieted all my sorrow, for I saw that I had not
known her well. I answered that, beautiful as she was, there was no doubt
of her being loved by everybody.
"It will be at dinner, my dear Christine, that my friend will examine and
study you; do not fail to shew all the charms and qualities with which
God has endowed you, but do not let him suspect our intimacy."
"It is all very strange. Is my uncle informed of this wonderful change?"
"No."
"If your friend should feel pleased with me, when would he marry me?"
"Within ten days. I will take care of everything, and you will see me
again in the course of the week:"
Charles came back with the doctor, and Christine, leaving her mother's
bedside, took a chair opposite to us. She answered very sensibly all the
questions addressed to her by Charles, often exciting his mirth by her
artlessness, but not shewing any silliness.
Oh! charming simplicity! offspring of wit and of ignorance! thy charm is
delightful, and thou alone hast the privilege of saying anything without
ever giving offence! But how unpleasant thou art when thou art not
natural! and thou art the masterpiece of art when thou art imitated with
perfection!
We dined rather late, and I took care not to speak to Christine, not even
to look at her, so as not to engross her attention, which she devoted
entirely to Charles, and I was delighted to see with what ease and
interest she kept up the conversation. After dinner, and as we were
taking leave, I heard the following words uttered by Charles, which went
to my very heart:
"You are made, lovely Christine, to minister to the happiness of a
prince."
And Christine? This was her answer:
"I should esteem myself fortunate, sir, if you should judge me worthy of
ministering to yours."
These words excited Charles so much that he embraced me!
Christine was simple, but her artlessness did not come from her mind,
only from her heart. The simplicity of mind is nothing but silliness,
that of the heart is only ignorance and innocence; it is a quality which
subsists even when the cause has ceased to be. This young girl, almost a
child of nature, was simple in her manners, but graceful in a thousand
trifling ways which cannot be described. She was sincere, because she did
not know that to conceal some of our impressions is one of the precepts
of propriety, and as her intentions were pure, she was a stranger to that
false shame and mock modesty which cause pretended innocence to blush at
a word, or at a movement said or made very often without any wicked
purpose.
During our journey back to Venice Charles spoke of nothing but of his
happiness. He had decidedly fallen in love.
"I will call to-morrow morning upon Count Algarotti," he said to me, "and
you may write to the priest to come with all the necessary documents to
make the contract of marriage which I long to sign."
His delight and his surprise were intense when I told him that my wedding
present to Christine was a dispensation from the Pope for her to be
married in Lent.
"Then," he exclaimed, "we must go full speed ahead!"
In the conference which was held the next day between my young
substitute, his god-father, and M. Dandolo, it was decided that the
parson should be invited to come with his niece. I undertook to carry the
message, and leaving Venice two hours before morning I reached
P---- early. The priest said he would be ready to start immediately after
mass. I then called on Christine, and I treated her to a fatherly and
sentimental sermon, every word of which was intended to point out to her
the true road to happiness in the new condition which she was on the
point of adopting. I told her how she ought to behave towards her
husband, towards his aunt and his sister, in order to captivate their
esteem and their love. The last part of my discourse was pathetic and
rather disparaging to myself, for, as I enforced upon her the necessity
of being faithful to her husband, I was necessarily led to entreat her
pardon for having seduced her. "When you promised to marry me, after we
had both been weak enough to give way to our love, did you intend to
deceive me?"
"Certainly not."
"Then you have not deceived me. On the contrary, I owe you some gratitude
for having thought that, if our union should prove unhappy, it was better
to find another husband for me, and I thank God that you have succeeded
so well. Tell me, now, what I can answer to your friend in case he should
ask me, during the first night, why I am so different to what a virgin
ought to be?"
"It is not likely that Charles, who is full of reserve and propriety,
would ask you such a thing, but if he should, tell him positively that
you never had a lover, and that you do not suppose yourself to be
different to any other girl."
"Will he believe me?"
"He would deserve your contempt, and entail punishment on himself if he
did not. But dismiss all anxiety; that will not occur. A sensible man, my
dear Christine, when he has been rightly brought up, never ventures upon
such a question, because he is not only certain to displease, but also
sure that he will never know the truth, for if the truth is likely to
injure a woman in the opinion of her husband, she would be very foolish,
indeed, to confess it."
"I understand your meaning perfectly, my dear friend; let us, then,
embrace each other for the last time."
"No, for we are alone and I am very weak. I adore thee as much as ever."
"Do not cry, dear friend, for, truly speaking, I have no wish for it."
That simple and candid answer changed my disposition suddenly, and,
instead of crying, I began to laugh. Christine dressed herself
splendidly, and after breakfast we left P----. We reached Venice in four
hours. I lodged them at a good inn, and going to the palace, I told M.
Dandolo that our people had arrived, that it would be his province to
bring them and Charles together on the following day, and to attend to
the matter altogether, because the honour of the future husband and wife,
the respect due to their parents and to propriety, forbade any further
interference on my part.
He understood my reasons, and acted accordingly. He brought Charles to
me, I presented both of them to the curate and his niece, and then left
them to complete their business.
I heard afterwards from M. Dandolo that they all called upon Count
Algarotti, and at the office of a notary, where the contract of marriage
was signed, and that, after fixing a day for the wedding, Charles had
escorted his intended back to P----.
On his return, Charles paid me a visit. He told me that Christine had won
by her beauty and pleasing manners the affection of his aunt, of his
sister, and of his god-father, and that they had taken upon themselves
all the expense of the wedding.
"We intend to be married," he added, "on such a day at P----, and I trust
that you will crown your work of kindness by being present at the
ceremony."
I tried to excuse myself, but he insisted with such a feeling of
gratitude, and with so much earnestness, that I was compelled to accept.
I listened with real pleasure to the account he gave me of the impression
produced upon all his family and upon Count Algarotti by the beauty, the
artlessness, the rich toilet, and especially by the simple talk of the
lovely country girl.
"I am deeply in love with her," Charles said to me, "and I feel that it
is to you that I shall be indebted for the happiness I am sure to enjoy
with my charming wife. She will soon get rid of her country way of
talking in Venice, because here envy and slander will but too easily shew
her the absurdity of it."
His enthusiasm and happiness delighted me, and I congratulated myself
upon my own work. Yet I felt inwardly some jealousy, and I could not help
envying a lot which I might have kept for myself.
M. Daridolo and M. Barbaro having been also invited by Charles, I went
with them to P----. We found the dinner-table laid out in the rector's
house by the servants of Count Algarotti, who was acting as Charles's
father, and having taken upon himself all the expense of the wedding, had
sent his cook and his major-domo to P----.
When I saw Christine, the tears filled my eyes, and I had to leave the
room. She was dressed as a country girl, but looked as lovely as a nymph.
Her husband, her uncle, and Count Algarotti had vainly tried to make her
adopt the Venetian costume, but she had very wisely refused.
"As soon as I am your wife," she had said to Charles, "I will dress as
you please, but here I will not appear before my young companions in any
other costume than the one in which they have always seen me. I shall
thus avoid being laughed at, and accused of pride, by the girls among
whom I have been brought up."
There was in these words something so noble, so just, and so generous,
that Charles thought his sweetheart a supernatural being. He told me that
he had enquired, from the woman with whom Christine had spent a
fortnight, about the offers of marriage she had refused at that time, and
that he had been much surprised, for two of those offers were excellent
ones.
"Christine," he added, "was evidently destined by Heaven for my
happiness, and to you I am indebted for the precious possession of that
treasure."
His gratitude pleased me, and I must render myself the justice of saying
that I entertained no thought of abusing it. I felt happy in the
happiness I had thus given.
We repaired to the church towards eleven o'clock, and were very much
astonished at the difficulty we experienced in getting in. A large number
of the nobility of Treviso, curious to ascertain whether it was true that
the marriage ceremony of a country girl would be publicly performed
during Lent when, by waiting only one month, a dispensation would have
been useless, had come to P----. Everyone wondered at the permission
having been obtained from the Pope, everyone imagined that there was some
extraordinary reason for it, and was in despair because it was impossible
to guess that reason. In spite of all feelings of envy, every face beamed
with pleasure and satisfaction when the young couple made their
appearance, and no one could deny that they deserved that extraordinary
distinction, that exception to all established rules.
A certain Countess of Tos,... from Treviso, Christine's god-mother, went
up to her after the ceremony, and embraced her most tenderly, complaining
that the happy event had not been communicated to her in Treviso.
Christine, in her artless way, answered with as much modesty as
sweetness, that the countess ought to forgive her if she had failed in
her duty towards her, on account of the marriage having been decided on
so hastily. She presented her husband, and begged Count Algarotti to
atone for her error towards her god-mother by inviting her to join the
wedding repast, an invitation which the countess accepted with great
pleasure. That behaviour, which is usually the result of a good education
and a long experience of society, was in the lovely peasant-girl due only
to a candid and well-balanced mind which shone all the more because it
was all nature and not art.
As they returned from the church, Charles and Christine knelt down before
the young wife's mother, who gave them her blessing with tears of joy.
Dinner was served, and, of course, Christine and her happy spouse took
the seats of honour. Mine was the last, and I was very glad of it, but
although everything was delicious, I ate very little, and scarcely opened
my lips.
Christine was constantly busy, saying pretty things to every one of her
guests, and looking at her husband to make sure that he was pleased with
her.
Once or twice she addressed his aunt and sister in such a gracious manner
that they could not help leaving their places and kissing her tenderly,
congratulating Charles upon his good fortune. I was seated not very far
from Count Algarotti, and I heard him say several times to Christine's
god-mother that he had never felt so delighted in his life.
When four o'clock struck, Charles whispered a few words to his lovely
wife, she bowed to her god-mother, and everybody rose from the table.
After the usual compliments--and in this case they bore the stamp of
sincerity--the bride distributed among all the girls of the village, who
were in the adjoining room, packets full of sugar-plums which had been
prepared before hand, and she took leave of them, kissing them all
without any pride. Count Algarotti invited all the guests to sleep at a
house he had in Treviso, and to partake there of the dinner usually given
the day after the wedding. The uncle alone excused himself, and the
mother could not come, owing to her disease which prevented her from
moving. The good woman died three months after Christine's marriage.
Christine therefore left her village to follow her husband, and for the
remainder of their lives they lived together in mutual happiness.
Count Algarotti, Christine's god-mother and my two noble friends, went
away together. The bride and bridegroom had, of course, a carriage to
themselves, and I kept the aunt and the sister of Charles company in
another. I could not help envying the happy man somewhat, although in my
inmost heart I felt pleased with his happiness.
The sister was not without merit. She was a young widow of twenty-five,
and still deserved the homage of men, but I gave the preference to the
aunt, who told me that her new niece was a treasure, a jewel which was
worthy of everybody's admiration, but that she would not let her go into
society until she could speak the Venetian dialect well.
"Her cheerful spirits," she added, "her artless simplicity, her natural
wit, are like her beauty, they must be dressed in the Venetian fashion.
We are highly pleased with my nephew's choice, and he has incurred
everlasting obligations towards you. I hope that for the future you will
consider our house as your own."
The invitation was polite, perhaps it was sincere, yet I did not avail
myself of it, and they were glad of it. At the end of one year Christine
presented her husband with a living token of their mutual love, and that
circumstance increased their conjugal felicity.
We all found comfortable quarters in the count's house in Treviso, where,
after partaking of some refreshments, the guests retired to rest.
The next morning I was with Count Algarotti and my two friends when
Charles came in, handsome, bright, and radiant. While he was answering
with much wit some jokes of the count, I kept looking at him with some
anxiety, but he came up to me and embraced me warmly. I confess that a
kiss never made me happier.
People wonder at the devout scoundrels who call upon their saint when
they think themselves in need of heavenly assistance, or who thank him
when they imagine that they have obtained some favour from him, but
people are wrong, for it is a good and right feeling, which preaches
against Atheism.
At the invitation of Charles, his aunt and his sister had gone to pay a
morning visit to the young wife, and they returned with her. Happiness
never shone on a more lovely face!
M. Algarotti, going towards her, enquired from her affectionately whether
she had had a good night. Her only answer was to rush to her husband's
arms. It was the most artless, and at the same time the most eloquent,
answer she could possible give. Then turning her beautiful eyes towards
me, and offering me her hand, she said,
"M. Casanova, I am happy, and I love to be indebted to you for my
happiness."
The tears which were flowing from my eyes, as I kissed her hand, told her
better than words how truly happy I was myself.
The dinner passed off delightfully. We then left for Mestra and Venice.
We escorted the married couple to their house, and returned home to amuse
M. Bragadin with the relation of our expedition. This worthy and
particularly learned man said a thousand things about the marriage, some
of great profundity and others of great absurdity.
I laughed inwardly. I was the only one who had the key to the mystery,
and could realize the secret of the comedy.