"I wanted to keep my ready money, which I still have by me, so as to be able to go back to Lisbon by land when I can do so in safety, for I could not face the horrors of a sea voyage a second time.
"I told my case to my worthy landlady who still befriends me, and she helped me to get another lodging, but I had to procure a servant to fetch me my food; I could not summon up courage to have my meals in a coffee-house. However, all my servants turned out ill; they robbed me continually, and levied a tax on all their purchases.
"The temperance I observed—for I almost lived on bread and water—made me get thinner every day, still I saw no way of mending my existence till chance made me see your singular announcement. I laughed at it; and then drawn by some irresistible power, or perhaps by the curiosity that falls to the lot of most of us women, I could not resist going in and speaking to you. Instinct thus pointed out the way to improve my lot without increasing my expenditure.
"When I got back I found a copy of the Advertiser on my landlady's table; it contained some editorial fun on the notice I had just read. The writer said that the master of the house was an Italian, and had therefore nothing to fear from feminine violence. On my side I determined to hazard everything, but I feel I have been too hasty, and that there are certain attacks which it is pleasant not to resist. I was brought up by an Italian, a clever and good man, and I have always had a great respect for your fellow-countrymen."
My fair Portuguese had finished her story, and I observed,—
"Really, your history has amused me very much; it has all the air of a romance."
"Quite so," said she; "but it is a strictly historical romance. But the most amusing thing to me is that you have listened to it without weariness."
"That is your modesty, madam; not only, has your tale interested me, but now that I know you are a Portuguese I am at peace with the nation."
"Were you at war with us, then?"
"I have never forgiven you for letting your Portuguese Virgil die miserably two hundred years ago."
"You mean Camoens. But the Greeks treated Homer in the same way."
"Yes, but the faults of others are no excuse for our own."
"You are right; but how can you like Camoens so much if you do not know Portuguese?"
"I have read a translation in Latin hexameters so well done that I fancied I was reading Virgil."
"Is that truly so?"
"I would never lie to you."
"Then I make a vow to learn Latin."
"That is worthy of you, but it is of me that you must learn the language. I will go to Portugal and live and die there, if you will give me your heart.'
"My heart! I have only one, and that is given already. Since I have known you I have despised myself, for I am afraid I have an inconstant nature."
"It will be enough for me if you will love me as your father, provided I may sometimes take my daughter to my arms. But go on with your story, the chief part is yet untold. What became of your lover, and what did your relations do when they found out your flight?"
"Three days after I arrived in this vast city I wrote to the abbess, my aunt, and told her the whole story, begging her to protect my lover, and to confirm me in my resolution never to return to Lisbon till I could do so in security, and have no obstacles placed in the way of my marriage. I also begged her to write and inform me of all that happened, addressing her letters to 'Miss Pauline,' under cover of my landlady.
"I sent my letter by Paris and Madrid, and I had to wait three months before I got an answer. My aunt told me that the frigate had only returned a short time, and that the captain immediately on his arrival wrote to the minister informing him that the only lady who was in his ship when he sailed was still on board, for he had brought her back with him, despite the opposition of Count Al——, who declared she was his wife. The captain ended by asking his excellency for further orders with respect to the lady aforesaid.
"Oeiras, feeling sure that the lady was myself, told the captain to take her to the convent of which my aunt was abbess, with a letter he had written. In this letter he told my aunt that he sent her her niece, and begged her to keep the girl securely till further orders. My aunt was extremely surprised, but she would have been still more surprised if she had not got my letter a few days before. She thanked the captain for his care, and took the false niece to a room and locked her up. She then wrote to Oeiras, telling him that she had received into her convent a person supposed to be his niece, but as this person was really a man in woman's dress she begged his excellency to remove him as soon as possible.
"When the abbess had written this curious letter she paid a visit to the count, who fell on his knees before her. My good aunt raised him, and shewed him my letter. She said that she had been obliged to write to the minister, and that she had no doubt he would be removed from the convent in the course of a few hours. The count burst into tears, and begging the abbess to protect us both gave her my jewel-casket, which the worthy woman received with great pleasure. She left him, promising to write to me of all that happened.
"The minister was at one of his country estates, and did not receive the abbess's letter till the next day, but hastened to reply in person. My aunt easily convinced his excellency of the need for keeping the matter secret, for a man had been sent into the convent, which would be to her dishonour. She shewed the proud minister the letter she had had from me, and told him how the honest young man had given her my jewel-casket. He thanked her for her open dealing, and begged her pardon with a smile for sending a fine young man to her nunnery.
"'The secret,' said he, 'is of the greatest importance; we must see that it goes no farther. I will relieve you of your false niece, and take her away in my carriage.'
"My aunt took him at his word and brought out the young recluse, who drove away with the minister. The abbess tells me that from that day she has heard nothing about him, but that all Lisbon is talking over the affair, but in a wholly distorted manner. They say that the minister first of all put me under the care of my aunt, but soon after took me away, and has kept me in some secret place ever since. Count Al—— is supposed to be in London, and I in the minister's power, and probably we are supposed to have entered into a tender relationship. No doubt his excellency is perfectly well informed of my doings here, for he knows my address and has spies everywhere.
"On the advice of my aunt I wrote to Oeiras a couple of months ago, telling him that I am ready to return to Lisbon, if I may marry Count Al—— and live in perfect liberty. Otherwise, I declared, I would stay in London, where the laws guaranteed my freedom. I am waiting for his answer every day, and I expect it will be a favourable one, for no one can deprive me of my estates, and Oeiras will probably be only too glad to protect me to lessen the odium which attaches to his name as the murderer of my father."
Pauline made no mystery of the names of the characters, but she may be still alive, and I respect her too well to run the risk of wounding her, though these Memoirs will not see the light of day during my lifetime. It is sufficient to say that the story is known to all the inhabitants of Lisbon, and that the persons who figure in it are public characters in Portugal.
I lived with dear Pauline in perfect harmony, feeling my love for her increase daily, and daily inspiring her with tenderer feelings towards myself. But as my love increased in strength, I grew thin and feeble; I could not sleep nor eat. I should have languished away if I had not succeeded in gratifying my passion. On the other hand, Pauline grew plumper and prettier every day.
"If my sufferings serve to increase your charms," said I, "you ought not to let me die, for a dead man has no suffering."
"Do you think that your sufferings are due to your love for me?"
"Certainly."
"There may be something in it, but, believe me, the tender passion does not destroy the appetite nor take away the power of sleep. Your indisposition is undoubtedly due to the sedentary life you have been leading of late. If you love me, give me a proof of
it; go out for a ride."
"I cannot refuse you anything, dearest Pauline, but what then?"
"Then you shall find me grateful to you, you will have a good appetite, and will sleep well."
"A horse, a horse! Quick! My boots!" I kissed her hand—for I had not got any farther than that—and began to ride towards Kingston. I did not care for the motion of trotting, so I put my horse at a gallop, when all of a sudden he stumbled, and in an instant I was lying on the ground in front of the Duke of Kingston's house. Miss Chudleigh happened to be at the window, and seeing me thrown to the ground uttered a shriek. I raised my head and she recognized me, and hastened to send some of her people to help me. As soon as I was on my feet I wanted to go and thank her, but I could not stir, and a valet who knew something of surgery examined me, and declared that I had put out my collar-bone and would require a week's rest.
The young lady told me that if I liked to stay in her house the greatest care should be taken of me. I thanked her warmly, but begged her to have me taken home, as I should not like to give her so much trouble. She immediately gave the necessary orders, and I was driven home in a comfortable carriage. The servants in charge would not accept any money, and I saw in the incident a proof of that hospitality for which the English are famed, although they are at the same time profoundly egotistic.
When I got home I went to bed, and sent for a surgeon, who laughed when I told him that I had put out a bone.
"I'll wager it is nothing more than a sprain. I only wish it was put out that I might have some chance of shewing my skill."
"I am delighted," I said, "not to be in a position to call for that amount of talent, but I shall have a high opinion of you if you set me up in a short time."
I did not see Pauline, much to my astonishment. I was told she had gone out in a sedan-chair, and I almost felt jealous. In two hours she came in looking quite frightened, the old house-keeper having told her that I had broken my leg, and that the doctor had been with me already.
"Unhappy wretch that I am!" she exclaimed as she came to my bedside, "'tis I that have brought you to this."
With these words she turned pale and almost fell in a swoon beside me.
"Divine being!" I cried, as I pressed her to my breast, "it is nothing; only a sprain."
"What pain that foolish old woman has given me!
"God be praised that it is no worse! Feel my heart."
"Oh, yes! I felt it with delight. It was a happy fall for me."
Fastening my lips on hers, I felt with delight that our transports were mutual, and I blessed the sprain that had brought me such bliss.
After these ecstasies I felt that Pauline was laughing.
"What are you laughing at, sweetheart?"
"At the craft of love, which always triumphs at last."
"Where have you been?"
"I went to my old jeweler's to redeem my ring, that you might have a souvenir of me; here it is."
"Pauline! Pauline! a little love would have been much more precious to me than this beautiful ring."
"You shall have both. Till the time of my departure, which will come only too soon, we will live together like man and wife; and to-night shall be our wedding night, and the bed the table for the feast."
"What sweet news you give me, Pauline! I cannot believe it till my happiness is actually accomplished."
"You may doubt, if you like; but let it be a slight doubt, or else you will do me wrong. I am tired of living with you as a lover and only making you wretched, and the moment I saw you on horseback I determined to belong to you. Consequently I went to redeem the ring directly you left, and I do not intend to leave you until I receive the fatal message from Lisbon. I have dreaded its arrival every day for the last week."
"May the messenger that brings it be robbed on the way."
"No such luck, I am afraid."
As Pauline was standing, I asked her to come to my arms, for I longed to give her some palpable signs of my love.
"No, dearest, one can love and yet be wise; the door is open."
She got down Ariosto and began to read to me the adventure of Ricciardetto with Fiordespina, an episode which gives its beauty to the twenty-ninth canto of that beautiful poem which I knew by heart. She imagined that she was the princess, and I Ricciardetto. She liked to fancy,
'Che il ciel L'abbia concesso,
Bradamante cangiata in miglior sesso.'
When she came to the lines;
'Le belle braccia al collo indi mi getta,
E dolcemente stringe, a baccia in bocca:
Tu puoi pensar se allora la saetta
Dirizza Amor, se in mezzo al cor mi tocca.'
She wanted some explanations on the expression 'baccia in bocca', and on the love which made Ricciardetto's arrow so stiff, and I, only too ready to comment on the text, made her touch an arrow as stiff as Ricciardetto's. Of course, she was angry at that, but her wrath did not last long. She burst out laughing when she came to the lines,
'Io il veggo, io il sento, e a pena vero parmi:
Sento in maschio in femina matarsi.'
And then,
'Cosi le dissi, e feci ch'ella stessa
Trovo con man la veritade expressa.
She expressed her, wonder that this poem abounding in obscenities had not been put on the "Index" at Rome.
"What you call obscenity is mere license, and there is plenty of that at Rome."
"That's a joke which should bring the censures of the Church upon you. But what do you call obscenities, if Ariosto is not obscene?"
"Obscenity disgusts, and never gives pleasure."
"Your logic is all your own, but situated as I am I cannot reargue your proposition. I am amused at Ariosto's choosing a Spanish woman above all others to conceive that strange passion for Bradamante."
"The heat of the Spanish climate made him conclude that the Spanish temperament was also ardent, and consequently whimsical in its tastes."
"Poets are a kind of madmen who allow themselves to give utterance to all their fancies."
The reading was continued, and I thought my time had come when she read the verses:
Io senza scale in su la rooca salto,
E to stendardo piantovi di botto,
E la nemica mia mi caccio sotto**
**I scaled the rock without a ladder, I planted my standard suddenly, and held my enemy beneath me.
I wanted to give her a practical illustration of the lines, but with that sensibility so natural to women, and which they can use so well as a goad to passion, she said,—
"Dearest, you might make yourself worse; let us wait till your sprain is cured."
"Are we to wait till I am cured for the consummation of our marriage?"
"I suppose so, for if I am not mistaken the thing can't be done without a certain movement."
"You are wrong, dear Pauline, but it would make no difference to me even if it were so. You may be sure I would not put it off till to-morrow, even if it cost me my leg. Besides, you shall see that there are ways and means of satisfying our passions without doing me any harm. Is that enough for you?"
"Well, well, as it is written that a wife should obey her husband, you will find me docile."
"When?"
"After supper."
"Then we will have no supper. We shall dine with all the better appetite to-morrow. Let us begin now."
"No, for the suspicions of the servants might be aroused. Love has its rules of decency like everything else."
"You talk as wisely as Cato, and I am obliged to confess that you are right in all you say."
Supper was served as usual; it was delicate enough, but the thought of approaching bliss had taken away our appetites, and we ate only for form's sake. At ten o'clock we were at liberty, and could indulge our passion without any fear of being disturbed.
But this delightful woman, who had so plainly told me a few hours before that when I was cured we would live together as man and wife, was now ashamed to undress bef
ore me. She could not make up her mind, and told me so, laughing at herself. From this circumstance I gathered that the decency of the body is more tenacious in its grasp than the purity of the soul.
"But, sweetheart," said I, "you dressed and undressed for a fortnight before your betrothed."
"Yes, but he was always lying in his hammock with his back towards me at night, and in the morning he never turned round and wished me good day till he knew I was dressed."
"What, he never turned?"
"I never let him take any liberties."
"Such virtue is incomprehensible to me."
"You see the count was to be my husband, and I was to be his wife, and in such cases a young woman is careful. Besides, I believe that if one will but refrain from taking the first step, continence is easy. Then the count was naturally timid, and would never have taken any liberties without my encouraging him, which I took care not to do. For this once, you will allow me to sleep with you in my clothes."
"Certainly, if you wish me to be dressed also, otherwise it would be unbearable for both of us."
"You are very cruel."
"But, dearest, are you not ashamed of these foolish scruples?"
"Well, well, put out the candles, and in a minute I will be beside you."
"Very good; though the want of light will deprive me of a great pleasure. Quick, out with them!"
My charming Portuguese did not reflect that the moon shone full into the room, and that the muslin curtains would not prevent my seeing her exquisite figure, which shewed to greater advantage in the position she happened to take. If Pauline had been a coquette I should have considered her scruples as mere artifice calculated to increase my ardour; but she had no need to use such stratagems. At last she was within my arms, and we clasped each other closely and in silence that was only broken by the murmur of our kisses. Soon our union became closer, and her sighs and the ardour of her surrender shewed me that her passion was more in need of relief than mine. I was sufficiently master of myself to remember that I must have a care for her honour, greatly to her astonishment, for she confessed she had never thought of such a thing, and had given herself up freely, resolved to brave the consequences which she believed to be inevitable. I explained the mystery and made her happy.
The Complete Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt Page 265