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#12 in our series by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
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Title: Return to Paris, Casanova, v12
Author: Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
Release Date: December, 2001 [Etext #2962]
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MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
THE ETERNAL QUEST, Volume 3b--RETURN TO PARIS
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR
MACHEN TO WHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED
BY ARTHUR SYMONS.
THE ETERNAL QUEST
RETURN TO PARIS
CHAPTER V
My Fortune in Holland--My Return to Paris with Young Pompeati
Amongst the letters which were waiting for me was one from the
comptroller-general, which advised me that twenty millions in
Government securities had been placed in the hands of M. d'Afri, who
was not to go beyond a loss of eight per cent.; and another letter
from my good patron, M. de Bernis, telling me to do the best I could,
and to be assured that the ambassador would be instructed to consent
to whatever bargain might be made, provided the rate was not more
disadvantageous than that of the exchange at Paris. Boaz, who was
astonished at the bargain I had made with my shares, wanted to
discount the Government securities for me, and I should very likely
have agreed to his terms if he had not required me to give him three
months, and the promise that the agreement should hold even in the
case of peace being concluded in the meanwhile. It was not long
before I saw that I should do well to get back to Amsterdam, but I
did not care to break my word to Therese, whom I had promised to meet
at the Hague. I received a letter from her while I was at the play,
and the servant who brought it told me he was waiting to conduct me
to her. I sent my own servant home, and set out on my quest.
My guide made me climb to the fourth floor of a somewhat wretched
house, and there I found this strange woman in a small room, attended
by her son and daughter. The table stood in the midst of the room,
and was covered with a black cloth, and the two candles standing upon
it made it look like some sort of sepulchral altar. The Hague was a
Court town. I was richly dressed; my elaborate attire made the
saddest possible contrast with the gloom of my surroundings.
Therese, dressed in black and seated between her children at that
black table, reminded me of Medea. To see these two fair young
creatures vowed to a lot of misery and disgrace was a sad and
touching sight. I took the boy between my arms, and pressing him to
my breast called him my son. His mother told him to look upon me as
his father from henceforth. The lad recognized me; he remembered,
much to my delight, seeing me in the May of 1753, in Venice, at
Madame Manzoni's. He was slight but strong; his limbs were well
proportioned, and his features intellectual. He was thirteen years
old.
His sister sat perfectly still, apparently waiting for her turn to
come. I took her on my knee, and as I embraced her, nature herself
seemed to tell me that she was my daughter. She took my kisses in
silence, but it was easy to see that she thought herself preferred to
her brother, and was charmed with the idea. All her clothing was a
slight frock, and I was able to feel every limb and to kiss her
pretty little body all over, delighted that so sweet a being owed her
existence to me.
"Mamma, dear," said she, "is not this fine gentleman the same we saw
at Amsterdam, and who was taken for my papa because I am like him?
But that cannot be, for my papa is dead."
"So he is, sweetheart; but I may be your dear friend, mayn't I?
Would you like to have me for a friend?"
"Yes, yes!" she cried, and throwing her arms about my neck gave me a
thousand kisses, which I returned with delight.
After we had talked and laughed together we sat down at table, and
the heroine Therese gave me a delicate supper accompanied by
exquisite wines. "I have never given the margrave better fare," said
she, "at those nice little suppers we used to take together."
Wishing to probe the disposition of her son, whom I had engaged to
take away with me, I addressed several remarks to him, and soon
discovered that he was of a false and deceitful nature, always on his
guard, taking care of what he said, and consequently speaking only
from his head and not from his heart. Every word was delivered with
a quiet politeness which, no doubt, was intended to please me.
I told him that this sort of thing was all very well on occasion; but
that there were times when a man's happiness depended on his freedom
from constraint; then and only then was his amiability, if he had
any, displayed. His mother, thinking to praise him, told me that
reserve was his chief characteristic, that she had trained him to
keep his counsel at all times and places, and that she was thus used
to his being reserved with her as with everyone else.
"All I can say is," said I, "your system is an abominable one. You
may have strangled in their infancy all the finer qualities with
which nature has endowed your son, and have fairly set him on the way
to become a monster instead of an angel. I don't see how the most
devoted father can possibly have any affection for a son who keeps
all his emotions under lock and key."
This outburst, which proceeded from the tenderness I would fain have
felt for the boy, seemed to strike his mother dumb.
"Tell me, my dear, if you feel yourself capable of shewing me that
confidence which a father has a right to expect of a good son, and if
you can promise to be perfectly open and unreserved towards me?"
"I promise that I will die rather than tell you a falsehood."
"That's just like him," said the mother. "I have succeeded in
inspiring him with the utmost horror of untruthfulness."
"That's all very well, my dear madam, but you might have pursued a
still better course, and one which would have been still more
conducive to his happiness."
"What is that?"
"I will tell you. It was necessary to make him detest a lie; you
should have rather endeavoured to make him a lover of the truth by
displaying it to him in all its native beauty. This is the only way
to make him lovable, and love is the sole bestower of happiness in
this world."
"But isn't it the same thing not to lie and to tell the truth," said
the boy, with a smile which charmed his mother and displeased me.
"Certainly not; there is a great difference--for to avoid lying you
have only to hold your tongue; and do you think that comes to the
same thing as speaking the truth? You must open your mind to me, my
son, and tell me all your thoughts, even if you blush in the recital.
I will teach you how to blush, and soon you will have nothing to fear
in laying open all your thoughts and deeds. When we know each other
a little longer we shall see how we agree together. You must
understand that I cannot look upon you as my son until I see cause to
love you, and I cannot have you call me father till you treat me as
the best friend you have. You may be quite sure that I shall find a
way to discover your thoughts, however cleverly you try to hide them.
If I find you deceitful and suspicious I shall certainly entertain no
regard for you. As soon as I have finished my business at Amsterdam
we will set out for Paris. I am leaving the Hague to-morrow, and on
my return I hope to find you instructed by your mother in a system of
morality more consonant with my views, and more likely to lead to
your happiness."
On glancing at my little daughter, who had been listening to me with
the greatest attention, I saw that her eyes were swimming with tears,
which she could hardly retain.
"Why are you crying?" said the mother; "it is silly to cry." And
with that the child ran to her mother and threw her arms round her
neck.
"Would you like to come to Paris, too?" said I to her.
"Oh, yes! But mamma must come too, as she would die without me."
"What would you do if I told you to go?" said the mother.
"I would obey you, mamma, but how could I exist away from you?"
Thereupon my little daughter pretended to cry. I say pretended, as
it was quite evident that the child did not mean what she said, and I
am sure that her mother knew it as well as I.
It was really a melancholy thing to see the effects of a bad
education on this young child, to whom nature had given intelligence
and feeling. I took the mother on one side, and said that if she had
intended to make actors of her children she had succeeded to
admiration; but if she wished them to become useful members of
society her system had failed lamentably, as they were in a fair way
to become monsters of deceit. I continued making her the most
pointed remonstrances until, in spite of her efforts to control
herself, she burst into tears. However, she soon recovered her
composure, and begged me to stay at the Hague a day longer, but I
told her it was out of the question, and left the room. I came in
again a few minutes after, and Sophie came up to me and said, in a
loving little voice,
"If you are really my friend, you will give me some proof of your
friendship."
"And what proof do you want, my dear?"
"I want you to come and sup with me to-morrow."
"I can't, Sophie dear, for I have just said no to your mother, and
she would be offended if I granted you what I had refused her."
"Oh, no! she wouldn't; it was she who told me to ask you just now."
I naturally began to laugh, but on her mother calling the girl a
little fool, and the brother adding that he had never committed such
an indiscretion, the poor child began to tremble all over, and looked
abashed. I reassured her as best I could, not caring whether what I
said displeased her mother or not, and I endeavoured to instill into
her principles of a very different nature to those in which she had
been reared, while she listened with an eagerness which proved that
her heart was still ready to learn the right way. Little by little
her face cleared, and I saw that I had made an impression, and though
I could not flatter myself that any good I might do her would be
lasting in its effects as long as she remained under the bad
influence of her mother, I promised to come and sup with her next
evening, "but on the condition," I said, "that you give me a plain
meal, and one bottle of chambertin only, for you are not too well
off."
"I know that, but mamma says that you pay for everything."
This reply made me go off into a roar of laughter; and in spite of
her vexation the mother was obliged to follow my example. The poor
woman, hardened by the life she led, took the child's simplicity for
stupidity, but I saw in her a rough diamond which only wanted
polishing.
Therese told me that the wine did not cost her anything, as the son
of the Rotterdam burgomaster furnished her with it, and that he would
sup with us the next day if I would allow him to be present. I
answered smilingly that I should be delighted to see him, and I went
away after giving my daughter, of whom I felt fond, a tender embrace.
I would have done anything to be entrusted with her, but I saw it
would be no good trying to get possession of her, as the mother was
evidently keeping her as a resource for her old age. This is a
common way for adventuresses to look upon their daughters, and
Therese was an adventuress in the widest acceptation of the term. I
gave her twenty ducats to get clothes for my adopted son and Sophie,
who, with spontaneous gratitude, and her eyes filled with tears, came
and gave me a kiss. Joseph was going to kiss my hand, but I told him
that it was degrading for one man to kiss another's hand, and that
for the future he was to shew his gratitude by embracing me as a son
embraces his father.
Just as I was leaving, Therese took me to the closet where the two
children were sleeping. I knew what she was thinking of; but all
that was over long ago; I could think of no one but Esther.
The next day I found the burgomaster's son at my actress's house. He
was a fine young fellow of twenty or twenty-one, but totally devoid
of manner. He was Therese's lover, but he should have regulated his
behaviour in my presence. Therese, seeing that he was posing as
master of the field, and that his manners disgusted me, began to snub
him, much to his displeasure, and after sneering at the poorness of
the dishes, and praising the wine which he had supplied, he went out
leaving us to finish our dessert by ourselves. I left myself at
eleven, telling Therese that I should see her again before I went
away. The Princesse de Galitzin, a Cantimir by birth, had asked me
to dinner, and this made me lose another day.
Next day I heard from Madame d'Urfe, who enclosed a bill of exchange
on Boaz for twelve thousand francs. She said that she had bought her
shares for sixty thousand, that she did not wish to make anything of
them, and that she hoped I would accept the overplus as my broker's
fee. She worded her offer with too much courtesy for me to refuse
it. The remainder of the letter was devoted to the wildest fancies.
She said that her genius had revealed to her that I should bring back
to Paris a boy born of the Mystical Marriage, and she hoped I would
take pity on her. It was a strange coincidence, and seemed likely to
attach the woman still more closely to her visionary theories. I
laughed when I though how she would be impressed by Therese's son,
who was certainly not born of the Mystical Marriage.
Boaz paid me my twelve thousand francs in ducats, and I made him my
friend, as he thanked me for receiving the moneys in ducats, and he
doubtless made a profit on the transaction, gold being a commodity in
Holland, and all payments being made in silver or paper money.
At that time gold was at a low rate, and nobody would take ducats.
After having an excellent dinner with the Princesse de Galitzin, I
put on my cloak and went to the cafe. I found there the
burgomaster's son, who was just beginning a game of billiards. He
whispered to me that I might back him with advantage, and thinking he
was sure of his stroke I thanked him and followed his advice.
However, after losing three games one after the other, I took his
measure and began to lay against him without his knowledge. After
playing for three hours and losing all the time, he stopped play and
came to condole with me on my heavy loss. It is impossible to
describe his amazed expression when I shewed him a handful of ducats,
and assured him that I had spent a very profitable evening in laying
against him. Everybody in the room began to laugh at him, but he was
the sort of young man who doesn't understand a joke, and he went out
in a rage. Soon after I left the billiard-room myself, and,
according to my promise went to see Therese, as I was leaving for
Amsterdam the next day.
Therese was waiting for her young wine merchant, but on my recounting
his adventures she expected him no longer. I took my little daughter
on my knee and lavished my caresses on her, and so left them, telling
them that we should see each other again in the course of three weeks
or a month at latest.
As I was going home in the moonlight by myself, my sword under my
arm, I was encountered all of a sudden by the poor dupe of a
burgomaster's son.
"I want to know," said he, "if your sword has as sharp a point as
your tongue."
I tried to quiet him by speaking common sense, and I kept my sword
wrapped in my cloak, though his was bared and directed against me.
"You are wrong to take my jests in such bad part," said I; "however,
I apologize to you."
"No apologies; look to yourself."
"Wait till to-morrow, you will be cooler then, but if you still wish
it I will give you satisfaction in the midst of the billiard-room."
"The only satisfaction you can give me is to fight; I want to kill
you."
As evidence of his determination, and to provoke me beyond recall, he
struck me with the flat of his sword, the first and last time in my
life in which I have received such and insult. I drew my sword, but
still hoping to bring him to his senses I kept strictly on the
defensive and endeavoured to make him leave off. This conduct the
Dutchman mistook for fear, and pushed hard on me, lunging in a manner
that made me look to myself. His sword passed through my necktie; a
quarter of an inch farther in would have done my business.
I leapt to one side, and, my danger no longer admitting of my
fighting on the defensive, I lunged out and wounded him in the chest.
I thought this would have been enough for him, so I proposed we
should terminate our engagement.
"I'm not dead yet," said he; "I want to kill you."
This was his watchword; and, as he leapt on me in a paroxysm of rage,
more like a madman than a sensible being, I hit him four times. At
the fourth wound he stepped back, and, saying he had had enough,
begged me to leave him.
I went off as fast as I could, and was very glad to see from the look
of my sword that his wounds were slight. I found Boaz still up, and
on hearing what had taken place he advised me to go to Amsterdam at
once, though I assured him that the wounds were not mortal. I gave
in to his advice, and as my carriage was at the saddler's he lent me
his, and I set out, bidding my servant to come on the next day with
my luggage, and to rejoin me at the "Old Bible," in Amsterdam. I
reached Amsterdam at noon and my man arrived in the evening.
I was curious to hear if my duel had made any noise, but as my
servant had left at an early hour he had heard nothing about it.
Fortunately for me nothing whatever was known about it at Amsterdam
for a week after; otherwise, things might not have gone well with me,
as the reputation of being a duellist is not a recommendation to
financiers with whom one is about to transact business of importance.
The reader will not be surprised when I tell him that my first call
was on M. d'O, or rather on his charming daughter Esther, for she
it was on whom I waited. It will be remembered that the way in which
we parted did a good deal towards augmenting the warmth of my
affection for her. On entering the room I found Esther writing at a
table.
"What are you doing Esther, dear?"
"An arithmetical problem."
"Do you like problems?"
"I am passionately fond of anything which contains difficulties and
offers curious results."
"I will give you something which will please you."
I made her, by way of jest, two magic squares, which delighted her.
In return, she spewed me some trifles with which I was well
acquainted, but which I pretended to think very astonishing. My good
genius then inspired me with the idea of trying divination by the
cabala. I told her to ask a question in writing, and assured her
that by a certain kind of calculation a satisfactory answer would be
obtained. She smiled, and asked why I had returned to Amsterdam so
soon. I shewed her how to make the pyramid with the proper numbers
and the other ceremonies, then I made her extract the answer in
numbers, translating it into French, and greatly was she surprised to
find that the cause which had made me return to Amsterdam so soon
was--love.
Quite confounded, she said it was very wonderful, even though the
answer might not be true, and she wished to know what masters could
teach this mode of calculation.
"Those who know it cannot teach it to anyone."
"How did you learn it, then?"
"From a precious manuscript I inherited from my father."
"Sell it me."
"I have burnt it; and I am not empowered to communicate the secret to
anyone before I reach the age of fifty."
"Why fifty?"
"I don't know; but I do know that if I communicated it to anyone
before that age I should run the risk of losing it myself. The
elementary spirit who is attached to the oracle would leave it."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw it so stated in the manuscript I have spoken of."
"Then you are able to discover all secrets?"
"Yes, or I should be if the replies were not sometimes too obscure to
be understood."
"As it does not take much time, will you be kind enough to get me an
answer to another question?"
"With pleasure; you can command me in anything not forbidden by my
familiar spirit."
She asked what her destiny would be, and the oracle replied that she
had not yet taken the first step towards it. Esther was astonished
and called her governess to see the two answers, but the good woman
saw nothing wonderful in them whatever. Esther impatiently called
her a blockhead, and entreated me to let her ask another question. I
begged her to do so, and she asked,
"Who loves me most in Amsterdam?" The oracle replied that no one
loved her as well as he who had given her being: Poor Esther then
told me that I had made her miserable, and that she would die of
grief if she could not succeed in learning the method of calculation.
I gave no answer, and pretended to feel sad at heart. She began to
write down another question, putting her hand in front so as to
screen the paper. I rose as if to get out of her way, but while she
was arranging the pyramid I cast my eyes on the paper whilst walking
up and down the room, and read her question. After she had gone as
far as I had taught her, she asked me to extract the answer, saying
that I could do so without reading the question. I agreed to do so
on the condition that she would not ask a second time.
As I had seen her question, it was easy for me to answer it. She had
asked the oracle if she might shew the questions she had propounded
to her father, and the answer was that she would be happy as long as
she had no secrets from her father.
When she read these words she gave a cry of surprise, and could find
no words wherewith to express her gratitude to me. I left her for
the Exchange, where I had a long business conversation with M. Pels.
Next morning a handsome and gentlemanly man came with a letter of
introduction from Therese, who told me that he would be useful in
case I wanted any assistance in business. His name was Rigerboos.
She informed me that the burgomaster's son was only slightly wounded,
and that I had nothing to fear as the matter was not generally known,
and that if I had business at the Hague I might return there in
perfect safety. She said that my little Sophie talked of me all day,
and that I should find my son much improved on my return. I asked M.
Rigerboos to give me his address, assuring him that at the proper
time I should rely on his services.
A moment after Rigerboos had gone, I got a short note from Esther,
who begged me, in her father's name, to spend the day with her--at
least, if I had no important engagement. I answered that, excepting
a certain matter of which her father knew, I had no chiefer aim than
to convince her that I desired a place in her heart, and that she
might be quite sure that I would not refuse her invitation.
I went to M. d'O---- at dinner time. I found Esther and her father
puzzling over the method which drew reasonable answers out of a
pyramid of numbers. As soon as her father saw me, he embraced me,
saying how happy he was to possess a daughter capable of attracting
me.
"She will attract any man who has sufficient sense to appreciate
her."
"You appreciate her, then?"
"I worship her."
"Then embrace her."
Esther opened her arms, and with a cry of delight threw them round my
neck, and gave the back all my caresses, kiss for kiss.
"I have got through all my business," said M. d'O----, "and the rest
of my day is at your disposal. I have known from my childhood that
there is such a science as the one you profess, and I was acquainted
with a Jew who by its aid made an immense fortune. He, like you,
said that, under pain of losing the secret, it could only be
communicated to one person, but he put off doing so so long that at
last it was too late, for a high fever carried him off in a few days.
I hope you will not do as the Jew did; but in the meanwhile allow me
to say that if You do not draw a profit from this treasure, you do
not know what it really is."
"You call this knowledge of mine a treasure, and yet you possess one
far more excellent," looking at Esther as I spoke.
"We will discuss that again. Yes, sir, I call your science a
treasure."
"But the answers of the oracle are often very obscure."
"Obscure! The answers my daughter received are as clear as day."
"Apparently, she is fortunate in the way she frames her questions;
for on this the reply depends."
"After dinner we will try if I am so fortunate--at least, if you will
be so kind as to help me."
"I can refuse you nothing, as I consider father and daughter as one
being."
At table we discussed other subjects, as the chief clerks were
present--notably the manager, a vulgar-looking fellow, who had very
evident aspirations in the direction of my fair Esther. After dinner
we went into M. d'O 's private closet, and thereupon he drew two long
questions out of his pocket. In the first he desired to know how to
obtain a favourable decision from the States-General in an important
matter, the details of which he explained. I replied in terms, the
obscurity of which would have done credit to a professed Pythoness,
and I left Esther to translate the answer into common sense, and find
a meaning in it.
With regard to the second answer I acted in a different manner; I was
impelled to answer clearly, and did so. M. d'O asked what had
become of a vessel belonging to the India Company of which nothing
had been heard. It was known to have started on the return voyage,
and should have arrived two months ago, and this delay gave rise to
the supposition that it had gone down. M. d'O---- wished to know if
it were still above water, or whether it were lost, etc. As no
tidings of it had come to hand, the company were on the look-out for
someone to insure it, and offered ten per cent., but nobody cared to
run so great a risk, especially as a letter had been received from an
English sea captain who said he had seen her sink.
I may confess to my readers, though I did not do so to M. d'O----.
that with inexplicable folly I composed an answer that left no doubt
as to the safety of the vessel, pronouncing it safe and sound, and
that we should hear of it in a few days. No doubt I felt the need of
exalting my oracle, but this method was likely to destroy its credit
for ever. In truth, if I had guessed M. d'O----'s design, I would
have curbed my vanity, for I had no wish to make him lose a large sum
without profiting myself.
The answer made him turn pale, and tremble with joy. He told us that
secrecy in the matter was of the last importance, as he had
determined to insure the vessel and drive a good bargain. At this,
dreading the consequences, I hastened to tell him that for all I knew
there might not be a word of truth in the oracle's reply, and that I
should die of grief if I were the involuntary cause of his losing an
enormous sum of money through relying on an oracle, the hidden sense
of which might be completely opposed to the literal translation.
"Have you ever been deceived by it?"
"Often."
Seeing my distress, Esther begged her father to take no further steps
in the matter. For some moments nobody spoke.
M. d'O---- looked thoughtful and full of the project which his fancy
had painted in such gay colours. He said a good deal about it,
dwelling on the mystic virtues of numbers, and told his daughter to
read out all the questions she had addressed to the oracle with the
answers she had received. There were six or seven of them, all
briefly worded, some direct and some equivocal. Esther, who had
constructed the pyramids, had shone, with my potent assistance, in
extracting the answers, which I had really invented, and her father,
in the joy of his heart, seeing her so clever, imagined that she
would become an adept in the science by the force of intelligence.
The lovely Esther, who was much taken with the trifle; was quite
ready to be of the same opinion.
After passing several hours in the discussion of the answers, which
my host thought divine, we had supper, and at parting M. d'O---- said
that as Sunday was a day for pleasure and not business he hoped I
would honour them by passing the day at their pretty house on the
Amstel, and they were delighted at my accepting their invitation.
I could not help pondering over the mysteries of the commercial mind,
which narrows itself down to considerations of profit and loss.
M. d'O---- was decidedly an honest man; but although he was rich, he
was by no means devoid of the greed incident to his profession. I
asked myself the question, how a man, who would consider it
dishonourable to steal a ducat, or to pick one up in the street and
keep it, knowing to whom it belonged, could reconcile it with his
conscience to make an enormous profit by insuring a vessel of the
safety of which he was perfectly certain, as he believed the oracle
infallible. Such a transaction was certainly fraudulent, as it is
dishonest to play when one is certain of winning.
As I was going home I passed a tea-garden, and seeing a good many
people going in and coming out I went in curious to know how these
places were managed in Holland. Great heavens! I found myself the
witness of an orgy, the scene a sort of cellar, a perfect cesspool of
vice and debauchery. The discordant noise of the two or three
instruments which formed the orchestra struck gloom to the soul and
added to the horrors of the cavern. The air was dense with the fumes
of bad tobacco, and vapours reeking of beer and garlic issued from
every mouth. The company consisted of sailors, men of the lowest-
class, and a number of vile women. The sailors and the dregs of the
people thought this den a garden of delight, and considered its
pleasures compensation for the toils of the sea and the miseries of
daily labour. There was not a single woman there whose aspect had
anything redeeming about it. I was looking at the repulsive sight in
silence, when a great hulking fellow, whose appearance suggested the
blacksmith, and his voice the blackguard, came up to me and asked me
in bad Italian if I would like to dance. I answered in the negative,
but before leaving me he pointed out a Venetian woman who, he said,
would oblige me if I gave her some drink.
Wishing to discover if she was anyone I knew I looked at her
attentively, and seemed to recollect her features, although I could
not decide who she could be. Feeling rather curious on the subject I
sat down next to her, and asked if she came from Venice, and if she
had left that country some time ago.
"Nearly eighteen years," she replied.
I ordered a bottle of wine, and asked if she would take any; she said
yes, and added, if I liked, she would oblige me.
"I haven't time," I said; and I gave the poor wretch the change I
received from the waiter. She was full of gratitude, and would have
embraced me if I had allowed her.
"Do you like being at Amsterdam better than Venice?" I asked.
"Alas, no! for if I were in my own country I should not be following
this dreadful trade."
"How old were you when you left Venice."
"I was only fourteen and lived happily with my father and mother, who
now may have died of grief."
"Who seduced you?"
"A rascally footman."
"In what part of Venice did you live?"
"I did not live in Venice, but at Friuli, not far off."
Friuli . . . eighteen years ago . . . a footman . . . I felt
moved, and looking at the wretched woman more closely I soon
recognized in her Lucie of Pasean. I cannot describe my sorrow,
which I concealed as best I could, and tried hard to keep up my
indifferent air. A life of debauchery rather than the flight of time
had tarnished her beauty, and ruined the once exquisite outlines of
her form. Lucie, that innocent and pretty maiden, grown ugly, vile,
a common prostitute! It was a dreadful thought. She drank like a
sailor, without looking at me, and without caring who I was. I took
a few ducats from my purse, and slipped them into her hand, and
without waiting for her to find out how much I had given her I left
that horrible den.
I went to bed full of saddening thoughts. Not even under the Leads
did I pass so wretched a day. I thought I must have risen under some
unhappy star! I loathed myself. With regard to Lucie I felt the
sting of remorse, but at the thought of M. d'O---- I hated myself.
I considered that I should cause him a loss of three or four hundred
thousand florins; and the thought was a bitter drop in the cup of my
affection for Esther. I fancied, she, as well as her father, would
become my implacable foe; and love that is not returned is no love at
all.
I spent a dreadful night. Lucie, Esther, her father, their hatred of
me, and my hatred of myself, were the groundwork of my dreams. I saw
Esther and her father, if not ruined, at all events impoverished by
my fault, and Lucie only thirty-two years old, and already deep in
the abyss of vice, with an infinite prospect of misery and shame
before her. The dawn was welcome indeed, for with its appearance a
calm came to my spirit; it is, the darkness which is terrible to a
heart full of remorse.
I got up and dressed myself in my best, and went in a coach to do my
suit to the Princesse de Galitzin, who, was staying at the "Etoile
d'Orient." I found her out; she had gone to the Admiralty. I went
there, and found her accompanied by M. de Reissak and the Count de
Tot, who had just received news of my friend Pesselier, at whose
house I made his acquaintance, and who was dangerously ill when I
left Paris.
I sent away my coach and began to walk towards M. d'O----'s house on
the Amsel. The extreme elegance of my costume was displeasing in the
eyes of the Dutch populace, and they hissed and hooted me, after the
manner of the mob all the world over, Esther saw me coming from the
window, drew the rope, and opened the door. I ran in, shut the door
behind me, and as I was going up the wooden staircase, on the fourth
or fifth step my foot struck against some yielding substance. I
looked down and saw a green pocket-book. I stooped down to pick it
up, but was awkward enough to send it through an opening in the
stairs, which had been doubtless made for the purpose of giving light
to a stair below. I did not stop, but went up the steps and was
received with the usual hospitality, and on their expressing some
wonder as to the unusual brilliance of my attire I explained the
circumstances of the case. Esther smiled and said I looked quite
another person, but I saw that both father and daughter were sad at
heart. Esther's governess came in and said something to her in
Dutch, at which, in evident distress, she ran and embraced her
father.
"I see, my friends, that something has happened to you. If my
presence is a restraint, treat me without ceremony, and bid me go."
"It's not so great an ill-hap after all; I have enough money left to
bear the loss patiently"
"If I may ask the question, what is the nature of your loss?"
"I have lost a green pocket-book containing a good deal of money,
which if I had been wise I would have left behind, as I did not
require it till to-morrow."
"And you don't know where you lost it?"
"It must have been in the street, but I can't imagine how it can have
happened. It contained bills of exchange for large amounts, and of
course they don't matter, as I can stop payment of them, but there
were also notes of the Bank of England for heavy sums, and they are
gone, as they are payable to the bearer. Let us give thanks to God,
my dear child, that it is no worse, and pray to Him to preserve to us
what remains, and above all to keep us in good health. I have had
much heavier losses than this, and I have been enabled not only to
bear the misfortune but to make up the loss. Let us say no more
about the matter."
While he was speaking my heart was full of joy, but I kept up the
sadness befitting the scene. I had not the slightest doubt that the
pocket-book in question was the one I had unluckily sent through the
staircase, but which could not be lost irretrievably. My first point
was how to make capital of my grand discovery in the interests of my
cabalistic science. It was too fine an opportunity to be lost,
especially as I still felt the sting of having been the cause of an
enormous loss to the worthy man. I would give them a grand proof of
the infallibility of my oracle: how many miracles are done in the
same way! The thought put me into a good humour. I began to crack
jokes, and my jests drew peals of laughter from Esther.
We had an excellent dinner and choice wine. After we had taken
coffee I said that if they liked we would have a game of cards, but
Esther said that this would be a waste of time, as she would much
prefer making the oracular pyramids. This was exactly what I wanted.
"With all my heart," I said.
"We will do as you suggest."
"Shall I ask where my father lost his pocket-book?"
"Why not? It's a plain question: write it down."
She made the pyramid, and the reply was that the pocket-book had not
been found by anyone. She leapt up from her seat, danced for joy,
and threw her arms round her father's neck, saying,
"We shall find it, we shall find it, papa!"
"I hope so, too, my dear, that answer is really very consoling."
Wherewith Esther gave her father one kiss after another.
"Yes," said I, "there is certainly ground for hope, but the oracle
will be dumb to all questions."
"Dumb! Why?"
"I was going to say it will be dumb if you do not give me as many
kisses as you have given your father."
"Oh, then I will soon make it speak!" said she, laughing; and
throwing her arms about my neck she began to kiss me, and I to give
her kisses in return.
Ah! what happy days they seem when I recall them; and still I like
dwelling on these days despite my sad old age, the foe of love. When
I recall these events I grow young again and feel once more the
delights of youth, despite the long years which separate me from that
happy time.
At last Esther sat down again, and asked, "Where is the pocket-book?"
And the pyramid told her that the pocket-book had fallen through the
opening in the fifth step of the staircase.
M. d'O---- said to his daughter,
"Come, my dear Esther, let us go and test the truth of the oracle."
And full of joy and hope they went to the staircase, I following
them, and M. d'O shewed her the hole through which the pocket-book
must have fallen. He lighted a candle and we went down to the
cellar, and before long he picked up the book, which had fallen into
some water. We went up again in high spirits, and there we talked
for over an hour as seriously as you please on the divine powers of
the oracle, which, according to them, should render its possessor the
happiest of mortals.
He opened the pocket-book and shewed us the four thousand pound
notes. He gave two to his daughter, and made me take the two
remaining; but I took them with one hand and with the other gave them
to Esther begging her to keep them for me; but before she would agree
to do so I had to threaten her with the stoppage of the famous
cabalistic oracle. I told M. d'O that all I asked was his
friendship, and thereon he embraced me, and swore to be my friend to
the death.
By making the fair Esther the depositary of my two thousand pounds, I
was sure of winning her affection by an appeal, not to her interest,
but to her truthfulness. This charming girl had about her so
powerful an attraction that I felt as if my life was wound up with
hers.
I told M. d'O that my chief object was to negotiate the twenty
millions at a small loss.
"I hope to be of service to you in the matter," he said, "but as I.
shall often want to speak to you, you must come and live in our
house, which you must look upon as your own."
"My presence will be a restraint on you. I shall be a trouble."
"Ask Esther."
Esther joined her entreaties to her father's and I gave in, taking
good care not to let them see how pleased I was. I contented myself
with expressing my gratitude, to which they answered that it was I
who conferred a favour.
M. d'O went into his closet, and as soon as I found myself alone with
Esther I kissed her tenderly, saying that I should not be happy till
I had won her heart.
"Do you love me?"
"Dearly, and I will do all in my power to shew how well I love you,
if you will love me in return."
She gave me her hand, which I covered with kisses, and she went on to
say, "As soon as you come and live with us, you must look out for a
good opportunity for asking my hand of my father. You need not be
afraid he will refuse you, but the first thing for you to do is to
move into our house."
"My dear little wife! I will come to-morrow."
We said many sweet things to one another, talked about the future,
and told each other our inmost thoughts; and I was undoubtedly truly
in love, for not a single improper fancy rose in my mind in the
presence of my dear who loved me so well.
The first thing that M. d'O said on his return was, that there would
be a piece of news on the Exchange the next day.
"What is that, papa dear?"
"I have decided to take the whole risk--amounting to three hundred
thousand florins-of the ship which is thought to have gone down.
They will call me mad, but they themselves will be the madmen; which
is what I should be if, after the proof we have had, I doubted the
oracle any more."
"My dear sir, you make me frightened. I have told you that I have
been often deceived by the oracle."
"That must have been, my dear fellow, when the reply was obscure, and
you did not get at the real sense of it; but in the present case
there is no room, for doubt. I shall make three million florins, or,
if the worst comes to the worse, my loss won't ruin me."
Esther, whom the finding of the pocket-book had made enthusiastic,
told her father to lose no time. As for me, I could not recall what
I had done, but I was again overwhelmed with sadness. M. d'O---- saw
it, and taking my hand said, "If the oracle does lie this time, I
shall be none the less your friend."
"I am glad to hear it," I answered; "but as this is a matter of the
utmost importance, let me consult the oracle a second time before you
risk your three hundred thousand florins." This proposition pleased
the father and daughter highly; they could not express their
gratitude to me for being so careful of their interests.
What followed was truly surprising--enough to make one believe in
fatality. My readers probably will not believe it; but as these
Memoirs will not be published till I have left this world, it would
be of no use for me to disguise the truth in any way, especially as
the writing of them is only the amusement of my leisure hours. Well,
let him who will believe it; this is absolutely what happened. I
wrote down the question myself, erected the pyramid, and carried out
all the magical ceremonies without letting Esther have a hand in it.
I was delighted to be able to check an act of extreme imprudence, and
I was determined to do so. A double meaning, which I knew how to
get, would abate M. d'O----'s courage and annihilate his plans. I
had thought over what I wanted to say, and I thought I had expressed
it properly in the numbers. With that idea, as Esther knew the
alphabet perfectly well, I let her extract the answer, and transfer
it into letters. What was my surprise when I heard her read these
words:
"In a matter of this kind neither fear nor hesitate. Your repentance
would be too hard for you to bear."
That was enough. Father and daughter ran to embrace me, and M. d'O-
said that when the vessel was sighted a tithe of the profits should
be mine. My surprise prevented me giving any answer; I had intended
to write trust and hazard, and I had written fear and hesitate. But
thanks to his prejudice, M. d'O---- only saw in my silence
confirmation of the infallibility of the oracle. In short, I could
do nothing more, and I took my leave leaving everything to the care
of chance, who sometimes is kind to us in spite of ourselves.
The next morning I took up my abode in a splendid suite of rooms in
Esther's house, and the day after I took her to a concert, where she
joked with me on the grief I should endure on account of the absence
of Madame Trend and my daughter. Esther was the only mistress of my
soul. I lived but to adore her, and I should have satisfied my love
had not Esther been a girl of good principles. I could not gain
possession of her, and was full of longing and desire.
Four or five days after my installation in my new quarters, M. d'O---
communicated to me the result of a conference which he had had with
M. Pels and six other bankers on the twenty millions. They offered
ten millions in hard cash and seven millions in paper money, bearing
interest at five or six per cent. with a deduction of one per cent.
brokerage. Furthermore, they would forgive a sum of twelve hundred
thousand florins owed by the French India Company to the Dutch
Company.
With such conditions I could not venture to decide on my own
responsibility, although, personally, I thought them reasonable
enough, the impoverished state of the French treasury being taken
into consideration. I sent copies of the proposal to M. de Boulogne
and M. d'Afri, begging from them an immediate reply. At the end of a
week I received an answer in the writing of M. de Courteil, acting
for M. de Boulogne, instructing me to refuse absolutely any such
proposal, and to report myself at Paris if I saw no chance of making
a better bargain. I was again informed that peace was imminent,
though the Dutch were quite of another opinion.
In all probability I should have immediately left for Paris, but for
a circumstance which astonished nobody but myself in the family of
which I had become a member. The confidence of M. d'O---- increased
every day, and as if chance was determined to make me a prophet in
spite of myself, news was received of the ship which was believed to
be lost, and which, on the faith of my oracle, M. d'O had bought for
three hundred thousand florins. The vessel was at Madeira. The joy
of Esther, and still more my own, may be imagined when we saw the
worthy man enter the house triumphantly with confirmation of the good
news.
"I have insured the vessel from Madeira to the mouth of the Texel for
a trifle," said he, "and so," turning to me, "you may count from this
moment on the tenth part of the profit, which I owe entirely to you."
The reader may imagine my delight; but there is one thing he will not
imagine, unless he knows my character better than I do myself, the
confusion into which I was thrown by the following remarks:
"You are now rich enough," said M. d'O----, "to set up for yourself
amongst us, and you are positively certain to make an enormous
fortune in a short time merely by making use of your cabala. I will
be your agent; let us live together, and if you like my daughter as
she likes you, you can call yourself my son as soon as you please."
In Esther's face shone forth joy and happiness, and in mine, though I
adored her, there was to be seen, alas! nothing but surprise. I was
stupid with happiness and the constraint in which I held myself. I
did not analyze my feelings, but, though I knew it not, there can be
no doubt that my insuperable objection to the marriage tie was
working within my soul. A long silence followed; and last,
recovering my powers of speech, I succeeded, with an effort, in
speaking to them of my gratitude, my happiness, my love, and I ended
by saying that, in spite of my affection for Esther, I must, before
settling in Holland, return to Paris, and discharge the confidential
and responsible duty which the Government had placed in my hands. I
would then return to Amsterdam perfectly independent.
This long peroration won their approval. Esther was quite pleased,
and we spent the rest of the day in good spirits. Next day M. d'O---
gave a splendid dinner to several of his friends, who congratulated
him on his good fortune, being persuaded that his courageous action
was to be explained by his having had secret information of the
safety of the vessel, though none of them could see from what source
he, and he only, had obtained it.
A week after this lucky event he gave me an ultimatum on the matter
of the twenty millions, in which he guaranteed that France should not
lose more than nine per cent. in the transaction.
I immediately sent a copy of his proposal to M. d'Afri, begging him
to be as prompt as possible, and another copy to the comptroller-
general, with a letter in which I warned him that the thing would
certainly fall through if he delayed a single day in sending full
powers to M. d'Afri to give me the necessary authority to act.
I wrote to the same effect to M. de Courteil and the Duc de Choiseul,
telling them that I was to receive no brokerage; but that I should
all the same accept a proposal which I thought a profitable one, and
saying that I had no doubt of obtaining my expenses from the French
Government.
As it was a time of rejoicing with us, M. d'O---- thought it would be
a good plan to give a ball. All the most distinguished people in
Amsterdam were invited to it. The ball and supper were of the most
splendid description, and Esther, who was a blaze of diamonds, danced
all the quadrilles with me, and charmed every beholder by her grace
and beauty.
I spent all my time with Esther, and every day we grew more and more
in love, and more unhappy, for we were tormented by abstinence, which
irritated while it increased our desires.
Esther was an affectionate mistress, but discreet rather by training
than disposition the favours she accorded me were of the most
insignificant description. She was lavish of nothing but her kisses,
but kisses are rather irritating than soothing. I used to be nearly
wild with love. She told me, like other virtuous women, that if she
agreed to make me happy she was sure I would not marry her, and that
as soon as I made her my wife she would be mine and mine only. She
did not think I was married, for I had given her too many assurances
to the contrary, but she thought I had a strong attachment to someone
in Paris. I confessed that she was right, and said that I was going
there to put an end to it that I might be bound to her alone. Alas!
I lied when I said so, for Esther was inseparable from her father, a
man of forty, and I could not make up my mind to pass the remainder
of my days in Holland.
Ten or twelve days after sending the ultimatum, I received a letter
from M. de Boulogne informing me that M. d'Afri had all necessary
instructions for effecting the exchange of the twenty millions, and
another letter from the ambassador was to the same effect. He warned
me to take care that everything was right, as he should not part with
the securities before receiving 18,200,000 francs in current money.
The sad time of parting at last drew near, amid many regrets and
tears from all of us. Esther gave me the two thousand pounds I had
won so easily, and her father at my request gave me bills of exchange
to the amount of a hundred thousand florins, with a note of two
hundred thousand florins authorizing me to draw upon him till the
whole sum was exhausted. Just as I was going, Esther gave me fifty
shirts and fifty handkerchiefs of the finest quality.
It was not my love for Manon Baletti, but a foolish vanity and a
desire to cut a figure in the luxurious city of Paris, which made me
leave Holland. But such was the disposition that Mother Nature had
given me that fifteen months under The Leads had not been enough to
cure this mental malady of mine. But when I reflect upon after
events of my life I am not astonished that The Leads proved
ineffectual, for the numberless vicissitudes which I have gone
through since have not cured me--my disorder, indeed, being of the
incurable kind. There is no such thing as destiny. We ourselves
shape our lives, notwithstanding that saying of the Stoics, 'Volentem
ducit, nolentem trahit'.
After promising Esther to return before the end of the year, I set
out with a clerk of the company who had brought the French
securities, and I reached the Hague, where Boaz received me with a
mingled air of wonder and admiration. He told me that I had worked a
miracle; "but," he added, "to succeed thus you must have persuaded
them that peace was on the point of being concluded."
"By no means," I answered; "so far from my persuading them, they are
of the opposite opinion; but all the same I may tell you that peace
is really imminent."
"If you like to give me that assurance in writing," said he, "I will
make you a present of fifty thousand florins' worth of diamonds."
"Well," I answered, "the French ambassador is of the same opinion as
myself; but I don't think the certainty is sufficiently great as yet
for you to risk your diamonds upon it."
Next day I finished my business with the ambassador, and the clerk
returned to Amsterdam.
I went to supper at Therese's, and found her children very well
dressed. I told her to go on to Rotterdam the next day and wait for
me there with her son, as I had no wish to give scandal at the Hague.
At Rotterdam, Therese told me that she knew I had won half a million
at Amsterdam, and that her fortune would be made if she could leave
Holland for London. She had instructed Sophie to tell me that my
good luck was the effect of the prayers she had addressed to Heaven
on my behalf. I saw where the land lay, and I enjoyed a good laugh
at the mother's craft and the child's piety, and gave her a hundred
ducats, telling her that she should have another hundred when she
wrote to me from London. It was very evident that she thought the
sum a very moderate one, but I would not give her any more. She
waited for the moment when I was getting into my carriage to beg me
to give her another hundred ducats, and I said, in a low tone, that
she should have a thousand if she would give me her daughter. She
thought it over for a minute, and then said that she could not part
with her.
"I know very well why," I answered; and drawing a watch from my fob I
gave it to Sophie, embraced her, and went on my way. I arrived at
Paris on February 10th, and took sumptuous apartments near the Rue
Montorgueil.
CHAPTER VI
I Meet With a Flattering Reception From My Patron--Madame D'Urfe's
Infatuation--Madame X. C. V. And Her Family--Madame du Rumain
During my journey from the Hague to Paris, short as it was, I had
plenty of opportunities for seeing that the mental qualities of my
adopted son were by no means equal to his physical ones.
As I had said, the chief point which his mother had impressed on him
was reserve, which she had instilled into him out of regard for her
own interests. My readers will understand what I mean, but the
child, in following his mother's instructions, had gone beyond the
bounds of moderation; he possessed reserve, it is true, but he was
also full of dissimulation, suspicion, and hypocrisy--a fine trio of
deceit in one who was still a boy. He not only concealed what he
knew, but he pretended to know that which he did not. His idea of
the one quality necessary to success in life was an impenetrable
reserve, and to obtain this he had accustomed himself to silence the
dictates of his heart, and to say no word that had not been carefully
weighed. Giving other people wrong impressions passed with him for
discretion, and his soul being incapable of a generous thought, he
seemed likely to pass through life without knowing what friendship
meant.
Knowing that Madame d'Urfe counted on the boy for the accomplishment
of her absurd hypostasis, and that the more mystery I made of his
birth the more extravagant would be her fancies about it, I told the
lad that if I introduced him to a lady who questioned him by himself
about his birth, he was to be perfectly open with her.
On my arrival at Paris my first visit was to my patron, whom I found
in grand company amongst whom I recognized the Venetian ambassador,
who pretended not to know me.
"How long have you been in Paris?" said the minister, taking me by
the hand.
"I have only just stepped out of my chaise."
"Then go to Versailles. You will find the Duc de Choiseul and the
comptroller-general there. You have been wonderfully successful, go
and get your meed of praise and come and see me afterwards. Tell the
duke that Voltaire's appointment to be a gentleman-in-ordinary to the
king is ready."
I was not going to start for Versailles at midday, but ministers in
Paris are always talking in this style, as if Versailles were at the
end of the street. Instead of going there, I went to see Madame
d'Urfe.
She received me with the words that her genius had informed her that
I should come to-day, and that she was delighted with the fulfilment
of the prophecy.
"Corneman tells me that you have been doing wonders in Holland; but I
see more in the matter than he does, as I am quite certain that you
have taken over the twenty millions yourself. The funds have risen,
and a hundred millions at least will be in circulation in the course
of the next week. You must not be offended at my shabby present,
for, of course, twelve thousand francs are nothing to you. You must
look upon them as a little token of friendship."
"I am going to tell my servants to close all the doors, for I am too
glad to see you not to want to have you all to myself."
A profound bow was the only reply I made to this flattering speech,
and I saw her tremble with joy when I told her that I had brought a
lad of twelve with me, whom I intended to place in the best school I
could find that he might have a good education.
"I will send him myself to Viar, where my nephews are. What is his
name? Where is he? I know well what this boy is, I long to see
him. Why did you not alight from your journey at my house?"
Her questions and replies followed one another in rapid succession.
I should have found it impossible to get in a word edgeways, even if
I had wanted to, but I was very glad to let her expend her
enthusiasm, and took good care not to interrupt her. On the first
opportunity, I told her that I should have the pleasure of presenting
the young gentleman to her the day after tomorrow, as on the morrow I
had an engagement at Versailles.
"Does the dear lad speak French? While I am arranging for his going
to school you must really let him come and live with me."
"We will discuss that question on the day after tomorrow, madam."
"Oh, how I wish the day after to-morrow was here!"
On leaving Madame d'Urfe I went to my lottery office and found
everything in perfect order. I then went to the Italian play, and
found Silvia and her daughter in their dressing-room.
"My dear friend," said she when she saw me, "I know that you have
achieved a wonderful success in Holland, and I congratulate you."
I gave her an agreeable surprise by saying that I had been working
for her daughter, and Marion herself blushed, and lowered her eyes in
a very suggestive manner. "I will be with you at supper," I added,
"and then we can talk at our ease." On leaving them I went to the
amphitheatre, and what was my surprise to see in one of the first
boxes Madame X---- C---- V----, with all her family. My readers will
be glad to hear their history.
Madame X---- C---- V----, by birth a Greek, was the widow of an
Englishman, by whom she had six children, four of whom were girls.
On his death-bed he became a Catholic out of deference to the tears
of his wife; but as his children could not inherit his forty thousand
pounds invested in England, without conforming to the Church of
England, the family returned to London, where the widow complied with
all the obligations of the law of England. What will people not do
when their interests are at stake! though in a case like this there
is no need to blame a person for yielding, to prejudices which had
the sanction of the law.
It was now the beginning of the year 1758, and five years before,
when I was at Padua, I fell in love with the eldest daughter, but a
few months after, when we were at Venice, Madame X. C. V. thought
good to exclude me from her family circle. The insult which the
mother put upon me was softened by the daughter, who wrote me a
charming letter, which I love to read even now. I may as well
confess that my grief was the easier to bear as my time was taken up
by my fair nun, M---- M----, and my dear C---- C-----. Nevertheless,
Mdlle. X. C. V., though only fifteen, was of a perfect beauty, and
was all the more charming in that to her physical advantages she
joined those of a cultured mind.
Count Algarotti, the King of Prussia's chamberlain, gave her lessons,
and several young nobles were among her suitors, her preference
apparently being given to the heir of the family of Memmo de St.
Marcuola. He died a year afterwards, while he was procurator.
My surprise at seeing this family at such a time and place may be
imagined. Mdlle. X. C. V. saw me directly, and pointed me out to her
mother, who made a sign to me with her fan to come to their box.
She received me in the friendliest manner possible, telling me that
we were not at Venice now, and that she hoped I would often come and
see them at the "Hotel de Bretagne," in the Rue St. Andre des Arts.
I told them that I did not wish to recall any events which might have
happened at Venice, and her daughter having joined her entreaties to
those of her mother, I promised to accept their invitation.
Mdlle. X. C. V. struck me as prettier than ever; and my love, after
sleeping for five years, awoke to fresh strength and vigour. They
told me that they were going to pass six months at Paris before
returning to Venice. In return I informed them that I intended
making Paris my home, that I had just left Holland, that I was going
to Versailles the next day, so that I could not pay my respects to
them till the day after. I also begged them to accept my services,
in a manner which let them know I was a person of some importance.
Mdlle. X. C. V. said that she was aware that the results of my Dutch
mission should render me dear to France, that she had always lived in
hopes of seeing me once more, that my famous flight from The Leads
had delighted them; "for," she added, "we have always been fond of
you."
"I fancy your mother has kept her fondness for me very much to
herself," I whispered to her.
"We won't say anything about that," said she in the same tone. "We
learnt all the circumstances of your wonderful flight from a letter
of sixteen pages you wrote to M. Memmo. We trembled with joy and
shuddered with fear as we read it."
"How did you know I have been in Holland?"
"M. de la Popeliniere told us about it yesterday."
M. de la Popeliniere, the fermier-general, whom I had known seven
years ago at Passi, came into the box just as his name was spoken.
After complimenting me he said that if I could carry through the same
operation for the India Company my fortune would be made.
"My advice to you is," he said, "to get yourself naturalized before
it becomes generally known that you have made half a million of
money."
"Half a million! I only wish I had!"
"You must have made that at the lowest calculation."
"On the contrary, I give you my assurance, that if my claim for
brokerage is not allowed, the transaction will prove absolutely
ruinous to me."
"Ah! no doubt you are right to take that tone. Meanwhile, everyone
wants to make your acquaintance, for France is deeply indebted to
you. You have caused the funds to recover in a very marked degree."
After the play was over I went to Silvia's, where I was received as
if I had been the favourite child of the family; but on the other
hand I gave them certain proofs that I wished to be regarded in that
light. I was impressed with the idea that to their unshaken
friendship I owed all my good luck, and I made the father, mother,
the daughter, and the two sons, receive the presents I had got for
them. The best was for the mother, who handed it on to her daughter.
It was a pair of diamond ear-rings of great beauty, for which I had
given fifteen thousand francs. Three days after I sent her a box
containing fine linen from Holland, and choice Mechlin and Alencon
lace. Mario, who liked smoking, got a gold pipe; the father a choice
gold and enamelled snuff-box, and I gave a repeater to the younger
son, of whom I was very fond. I shall have occasion later on to
speak of this lad, whose natural qualities were far superior to his
position in life. But, you will ask, was I rich enough to make such
presents? No, I was not, and I knew it perfectly well; but I gave
these presents because I was afraid of not being able to do so if I
waited.
I set out for Versailles at day-break, and M. de Choiseul received me
as before, his hair was being dressed, but for a moment he laid down
his pen, which shewed that I had become a person of greater
importance in his eyes. After a slight but grateful compliment, he
told me that if I thought myself capable of negotiating a loan of a
hundred millions to bear interest at four per cent., he would do all
in his power to help me. My answer was that I would think it over
when I heard how much I was to have for what I had done already.
"But everybody says that you have made two hundred thousand florins
by it."
"That would not be so bad; half a million of francs would be a fair
foundation on which to build a fortune; but I can assure your
excellence that there is not a word of truth in the report. I defy
anyone to prove it; and till some substantial proof is offered, I
think I can lay claim to brokerage."
"True, true. Go to the comptroller-general and state your views to
him."
M. de Boulogne stopped the occupation on which he was engaged to give
me a most friendly greeting, but when I said that he owed me a
hundred thousand florins he smiled sardonically.
"I happen to know," he said, "that you have bills of exchange to the
amount of a hundred thousand crowns payable to yourself."
"Certainly, but that money has no connection with my mission, as I
can prove to you by referring you to M. d'Afri. I have in my head an
infallible project for increasing the revenue by twenty millions, in
a manner which will cause no irritation."
"You don't say so! Communicate your plan, and I promise to get you a
pension of a hundred thousand francs, and letters of nobility as
well, if you like to become a Frenchman."
"I will think it over."
On leaving M. de Boulogne I went to the Palace, where a ballet was
going on before the Marquise de Pompadour.
She bowed to me as soon as she saw me, and on my approaching her she
told me that I was an able financier, and that the "gentlemen below"
could not appreciate my merits. She had not forgotten what I had
said to her eight years before in the theatre at Fontainebleau. I
replied that all good gifts were from above, whither, with her help,
I hoped to attain.
On my return to Paris I went to the "Hotel Bourbon" to inform my
patron of the result of my journey. His advice to me was to continue
to serve the Government well, as its good fortune would come to be
mine. On my telling him of my meeting with the X. C. V.'s, he said
that M. de la Popeliniere was going to marry the elder daughter.
When I got to my house my son was nowhere to be found. My landlady
told me that a great lady had come to call on my lord, and that she
had taken him away with her. Guessing that this was Madame d'Urfe, I
went to bed without troubling myself any further. Early next morning
my clerk brought me a letter. It came from the old attorney, uncle
to Gaetan's wife, whom I had helped to escape from the jealous fury
of her brutal husband. The attorney begged me to come and speak to
him at the courts, or to make an appointment at some place where he
could see me. I went to the courts and found him there.
"My niece," he began, "found herself obliged to go into a convent;
and from this vantage ground she is pleading against her husband,
with the aid of a barrister, who will be responsible for the costs.
However, to win our case, we require the evidence of yourself, Count
Tiretta, and other servants who witnessed the scene at the inn."
I did all I could, and four months afterwards Gaetan simplified
matters by a fraudulent bankruptcy, which obliged him to leave
France: in due time and place, I shall have something more to say
about him. As for his wife, who was young and pretty, she paid her
counsel in love's money, and was very happy with him, and may be
happy still for all I know, but I have entirely lost sight of her.
After my interview with the old attorney I went to Madame---- to see
Tiretta, who was out. Madame was still in love with him, and he
continued to make a virtue of necessity. I left my address, and went
to the "Hotel de Bretagne" to pay my first call on Madame X. C. V.
The lady, though she was not over fond of me, received me with great
politeness. I possibly cut a better figure in her eyes when rich,
and at Paris, then when we were in Venice. We all know that diamonds
have the strange power of fascination, and that they form an
excellent substitute for virtue!
Madame X. C. V. had with her an old Greek named Zandiri, brother to
M. de Bragadin's major-domo, who was just dead. I uttered some
expressions of sympathy, and the boor did not take the trouble to
answer me, but I was avenged for his foolish stiffness by the
enthusiasm with which I was welcomed by everyone else. The eldest
girl, her sisters, and the two sons, almost overwhelmed me with
friendliness. The eldest son was only fourteen, and was a young
fellow of charming manners, but evidently extremely independent, and
sighed for the time when he would be able to devote himself to a
career of profligacy for which he was well fitted. Mdlle. X. C. V.
was both beautiful and charming in her manner, and had received an
excellent education of which, however, she made no parade. One could
not stay in her presence without loving her, but she was no flirt,
and I soon saw that she held out no vain hopes to those who had the
misfortune not to please her. Without being rude she knew how to be
cold, and it was all the worse for those whom her coldness did not
shew that their quest was useless.
The first hour I passed in her company chained me a captive to her
triumphant car. I told her as much, and she replied that she was
glad to have such a captive. She took the place in my heart where
Esther had reigned a week before, but I freely confess that Esther
yielded only because she was away. As to my attachment to Sylvia's
daughter, it was of such a nature as not to hinder me falling in love
with any other woman who chanced to take my fancy. In the
libertine's heart love cannot exist without substantial food, and
women who have had some experience of the world are well aware of
this fact. The youthful Baletti was a beginner, and so knew nothing
of these things.
M. Farsetti, a Venetian of noble birth, a knight of Malta, a great
student of the occult sciences, and a good Latin versifier, came in
at one o'clock. Dinner was just ready and Madame X. C. V. begged him
to stay. She asked me also to dine with them, but wishing to dine
with Madame d'Urfe I refused the invitation for the nonce.
M. Farsetti, who had known me very well at Venice, only noticed me by
a side-glance, and without shewing any vexation I paid him back in
the same coin. He smiled at Mdlle. X. C. V.'s praise of my courage.
She noticed his expression, and as if to punish him for it went on to
say that I had now the admiration of every Venetian, and that the
French were anxious to have the honour of calling me a fellow-
citizen. M. Farsetti asked me if my post at the lottery paid well. I
replied, coolly,
"Oh, yes, well enough for me to pay my clerks' salaries."
He understood the drift of my reply, and Mdlle. X. C. V. smiled.
I found my supposed son with Madame d'Urfe, or rather in that amiable
visionary's arms. She hastened to apologize for carrying him off,
and I turned it off with a jest, having no other course to take.
"I made him sleep with me," she said, "but I shall be obliged to
deprive myself of this privilege for the future, unless he promises
to be more discreet."
I thought the idea a grand one, and the little fellow, in spite of
his blushes, begged her to say how he had offended.
"We shall have the Comte de St. Germain," said Madame d'Urfe, "to
dinner. I know he amuses you, and I like you to enjoy yourself in my
house."
"For that, madam, your presence is all I need; nevertheless, I thank
you for considering me."
In due course St. Germain arrived, and in his usual manner sat
himself down, not to eat but to talk. With a face of imperturbable
gravity he told the most incredible stories, which one had to pretend
to believe, as he was always either the hero of the tale or an eye
witness of the event. All the same, I could not help bursting into
laughter when he told us of something that happened as he was dining
with the Fathers of the Council of Trent.
Madame d'Urfe wore on her neck a large magnet. She said that it
would one day happen that this magnet would attract the lightning,
and that she would consequently soar into the sun. I longed to tell
her that when, she got there she could be no higher up than on the
earth, but I restrained myself; and the great charlatan hastened to
say that there could be no doubt about it, and that he, and he only,
could increase the force of the magnet a thousand times. I said,
dryly, that I would wager twenty thousand crowns he would not so much
as double its force, but Madame d'Urfe would not let us bet, and
after dinner she told me in private that I should have lost, as St.
Germain was a magician. Of course I agreed with her.
A few days later, the magician set out for Chambord, where the king
had given him a suite of rooms and a hundred thousand francs, that he
might be at liberty to work on the dyes which were to assure the
superiority of French materials over those of any other country. St.
Germain had got over the king by arranging a laboratory where he
occasionally tried to amuse himself, though he knew little about
chemistry, but the king was the victim of an almost universal
weariness. To enjoy a harem recruited from amongst the most
ravishing beauties, and often from the ranks of neophytes, with whom
pleasure had its difficulties, one would have needed to be a god, and
Louis XV. was only a man after all.
It was the famous marquise who had introduced the adept to the king
in the hope of his distracting the monarch's weariness, by giving him
a taste for chemistry. Indeed Madame de Pompadour was under the
impression that St. Germain had given her the water of perpetual
youth, and therefore felt obliged to make the chemist a good return.
This wondrous water, taken according to the charlatan's directions,
could not indeed make old age retire and give way to youth, but
according to the marquise it would preserve one in statu quo for
several centuries.
As a matter of fact, the water, or the giver of it, had worked
wonders, if not on her body, at least on her mind; she assured the
king that she was not getting older. The king was as much deluded by
this grand impostor as she was, for one day he shewed the Duc des
Deux-Ponts a diamond of the first water, weighing twelve carats,
which he fancied he had made himself. "I melted down," said Louis
XV., "small diamonds weighing twenty-four carats, and obtained this
one large one weighing twelve." Thus it came to pass that the
infatuated monarch gave the impostor the suite formerly occupied by
Marshal Saxe. The Duc des Deux-Ponts told me this story with his own
lips, one evening, when I was supping with him and a Swede, the Comte
de Levenhoop, at Metz.
Before I left Madame d'Urfe, I told her that the lad might be he who
should make her to be born again, but that she would spoil all if she
did not wait for him to attain the age of puberty. After what she
had said about his misbehavior, the reader will guess what made me
say this. She sent him to board with Viar, gave him masters on
everything, and disguised him under the name of the Comte d'Aranda,
although he was born at Bayreuth, and though his mother never had
anything to do with a Spaniard of that name. It was three or four
months before I went to see him, as I was afraid of being insulted on
account of the name which the visionary Madame d'Urfe had given him.
One day Tiretta came to see me in a fine coach. He told me that his
elderly mistress wanted to become his wife, but that he would not
hear of it, though she offered to endow him with all her worldly
goods. I told him that if he gave in he might pay his debts, return
to Trevisa, and live pleasantly there; but his destiny would not
allow him to take my advice.
I had resolved on taking a country house, and fixed on one called
"Little Poland," which pleased me better than all the others I had
seen. It was well furnished, and was a hundred paces distant from
the Madeleine Gate. It was situated on slightly elevated ground near
the royal park, behind the Duc de Grammont's garden, and its owner
had given it the name of "Pleasant Warsaw." It had two gardens, one
of which was on a level with the first floor, three reception rooms,
large stables, coach houses, baths, a good cellar, and a splendid
kitchen. The master was called "The Butter King," and always wrote
himself down so; the name had been given to him by Louis XV. on the
monarch's stopping at the house and liking the butter. The "Butter
King" let me his house for a hundred Louis per annum, and he gave me
an excellent cook called "The Pearl," a true blue-ribbon of the order
of cooks, and to her he gave charge of all his furniture and the
plate I should want for a dinner of six persons, engaging to get me
as much plate as I wanted at the hire of a sous an ounce. He also
promised to let me have what wine I wanted, and said all he had was
of the best, and, moreover, cheaper than I could get it at Paris, as
he had no gate-money to pay on it.
Matters having been arranged on these terms, in the course of a week
I got a good coachman, two fine carriages, five horses, a groom, and
two footmen. Madame d'Urfe, who was my first guest, was delighted
with my new abode, and as she imagined that I had done it all for
her, I left her in that flattering opinion. I never could believe in
the morality of snatching from poor mortal man the delusions which
make them happy. I also let her retain the notion that young
d'Aranda, the count of her own making, was a scion of the nobility,
that he was born for a mysterious operation unknown to the rest of
mankind, that I was only his caretaker (here I spoke the truth), and
that he must die and yet not cease to live. All these whimsical
ideas were the products of her brain, which was only occupied with
the impossible, and I thought the best thing I could do was to agree
with everything. If I had tried to undeceive her, she would have
accused me of want of trust in her, for she was convinced that all
her knowledge was revealed to her by her genius, who spoke to her
only by night. After she had dined with me I took her back to her
house, full of happiness.
Camille sent me a lottery ticket, which she had invested in at my
office, and which proved to be a winning one, I think, for a thousand
crowns or thereabouts. She asked me to come and sup with her, and
bring the money with me. I accepted her invitation, and found her
surrounded by all the girls she knew and their lovers. After supper
I was asked to go to the opera with them, but we had scarcely got
there when I lost my party in the crowd. I had no mask on, and I
soon found myself attacked by a black domino, whom I knew to be a
woman, and as she told me a hundred truths about myself in a falsetto
voice, I was interested, and determined on finding out who she was.
At last I succeeded in persuading her to come with me into a box, and
as soon as we were in and I had taken off her mask I was astonished
to find she was Mdlle. X. C. V.
"I have come to the ball," said she, "with one of my sisters, my
elder brother, and M. Farsetti. I left them to go into a box and
change my domino:
"They must feel very uneasy."
"I dare say they do, but I am not going to take pity on them till the
end of the ball."
Finding myself alone with her, and certain of having her in my
company for the rest of the night, I began to talk of our old love-
making; and I took care to say that I was more in love with her than
ever. She listened to me kindly, did not oppose my embraces, and by
the few obstacles she placed in my way I judged that the happy moment
was not far off. Nevertheless I felt that I must practice restraint
that evening, and she let me see that she was obliged to me.
"I heard at Versailles, my dear mademoiselle, that you are going to
marry M. de la Popeliniere."
"So they say. My mother wishes me to do so, and the old financier
fancies he has got me in his talons already; but he makes a mistake,
as I will never consent to such a thing."
"He is old, but he is very rich."
"He is very rich and very generous, for he promises me a dowry of a
million if I become a widow without children; and if I had a son he
would leave me all his property."
"You wouldn't have much difficulty in complying with the second
alternative."
"I shall never have anything to do with his money, for I should never
make my life miserable by a marriage with a man whom I do not love,
while I do love another."
"Another! Who is the fortunate mortal to whom you have given your
heart's treasure?"
"I do not know if my loved one is fortunate. My lover is a Venetian,
and my mother knows of it; but she says that I should not be happy,
that he is not worthy of me."
"Your mother is a strange woman, always crossing your affections."
"I cannot be angry with her. She may possibly be wrong, but she
certainly loves me. She would rather that I should marry M.
Farsetti, who would be very glad to have me, but I detest him."
"Has he made a declaration in terms?"
"He has, and all the marks of contempt I have given him seem to have
no effect."
"He clings hard to hope; but the truth is you have fascinated him."
"Possibly, but I do not think him susceptible of any tender or
generous feeling. He is a visionary; surly, jealous, and envious in
his disposition. When he heard me expressing myself about you in the
manner you deserve, he had the impudence to say to my mother before
my face that she ought not to receive you."
"He deserves that I should give him a lesson in manners, but there
are other ways in which he may be punished. I shall be delighted to
serve you in any way I can."
"Alas! if I could only count on your friendship I should be happy."
The sigh with which she uttered these words sent fire through my
veins, and I told her that I was her devoted slave; that I had fifty
thousand crowns which were at her service, and that I would risk my
life to win her favours. She replied that she was truly grateful to
me, and as she threw her arms about my neck our lips met, but I saw
that she was weeping, so I took care that the fire which her kisses
raised should be kept within bounds. She begged me to come and see
her often, promising that as often as she could manage it we should
be alone. I could ask no more, and after I had promised to come and
dine with them on the morrow, we parted.
I passed an hour in walking behind her, enjoying my new position of
intimate friend, and I then returned to my Little Poland. It was a
short distance, for though I lived in the country I could get to any
part of Paris in a quarter of an hour. I had a clever coachman, and
capital horses not used to being spared. I got them from the royal
stables, and as soon as I lost one I got another from the same place,
having to pay two hundred francs. This happened to me several times,
for, to my mind, going fast is one of the greatest pleasures which
Paris offers.
Having accepted an invitation to dinner at the X. C. V.'s, I did not
give myself much time for sleep, and I went out on foot with a cloak
on. The snow was falling in large flakes, and when I got to madame's
I was as white as a sheet from head to foot. She gave me a hearty
welcome, laughing, and saying that her daughter had been telling her
how she had puzzled me, and that she was delighted to see me come to
dinner without ceremony. "But," added she, "it's Friday today, and
you will have to fast, though, after all, the fish is very good.
Dinner is not ready yet. You had better go and see my daughter, who
is still a-bed."
As may be imagined, this invitation had not to be repeated, for a
pretty woman looks better in bed than anywhere else. I found Mdlle.
X. C. V. sitting up in bed writing, but she stopped as soon as she
saw me.
"How is this, sweet lie-a-bed, not up yet?"
"Yes, I am staying in bed partly because I feel lazy, and partly
because I am freer here."
"I was afraid you were not quite well."
"Nor am I. However, we will say no more about that now. I am just
going to take some soup, as those who foolishly establish the
institution of fasting were not polite enough to ask my opinion on
the subject. It does not agree with my health, and I don't like it,
so I am not going to get up even to sit at table, though I shall thus
deprive myself of your society."
I naturally told her that in her absence dinner would have no savour;
and I spoke the truth.
As the presence of her sister did not disturb us, she took out of her
pocket-book an epistle in verse which I had addressed to her when her
mother had forbidden me the house. "This fatal letter," said she,
"which you called 'The Phoenix,' has shaped my life and may prove the
cause of my death."
I had called it the Phoenix because, after bewailing my unhappy lot,
I proceeded to predict how she would afterwards give her heart to a
mortal whose qualities would make him deserve the name of Phoenix. A
hundred lines were taken up in the description of these imaginary
mental and moral characteristics, and certainly the being who should
have them all would be right worthy of worship, for he would be
rather a god than a man.
"Alas!" said Mdlle. X. C. V., "I fell in love with this imaginary
being, and feeling certain that such an one must exist I set myself
to look for him. After six months I thought I had found him. I gave
him my heart, I received his, we loved each other fondly. But for
the last four months we have been separated, and during the whole
time I have only had one letter from him. Yet I must not blame him,
for I know he cannot help it. Such, is my sorry fate: I can neither
hear from him nor write to him:"
This story was a confirmation of a theory of mine namely, that the
most important events in our lives proceed often from the most
trifling causes. My epistle was nothing better than a number of
lines of poetry more or less well written, and the being I had
delineated was certainly not to be found, as he surpassed by far all
human perfections, but a woman's heart travels so quickly and so far!
Mdlle. X. C. V. took the thing literally, and fell in love with a
chimera of goodness, and then was fain to turn this into a real
lover, not thinking of the vast difference between the ideal and the
real. For all that, when she thought that she had found the original
of my fancy portrait, she had no difficulty in endowing him with all
the good qualities I had pictured. Of course Mdlle. X. C. V. would
have fallen in love if I had never written her a letter in verse, but
she would have done so in a different manner, and probably with
different results.
As soon as dinner was served we were summoned to do justice to the
choice fish which M. de la Popeliniere had provided. Madame X. C. V.
a narrowminded Greek, was naturally bigoted and superstitious. In
the mind of a silly woman the idea of an alliance between the most
opposite of beings, God and the Devil, seems quite natural. A priest
had told her that, since she had converted her husband, her salvation
was secure, for the Scriptures solemnly promised a soul for a soul to
every one who would lead a heretic or a heathen within the fold of
the church. And as Madame X. C. V. had converted her husband, she
felt no anxiety about the life of the world to come, as she had done
all that was necessary. However, she ate fish on the days appointed;
the reason being that she preferred it to flesh.
Dinner over, I returned to the lady's bedside, and there stayed till
nearly nine o'clock, keeping my passions well under control all the
time. I was foppish enough to think that her feelings were as lively
as mine, and I did not care to shew myself less self-restrained than
she, though I knew then, as I know now, that this was a false line of
argument. It is the same with opportunity as with fortune; one must
seize them when they come to us, or else they go by, often to return
no more.
Not seeing Farsetti at the table, I suspected there had been a
quarrel, and I asked my sweetheart about it; but she told me I was
mistaken in supposing they had quarreled with him, and that the
reason of his absence was that he would never leave his house on a
Friday. The deluded man had had his horoscope drawn, and learning by
it that he would be assassinated on a Friday he resolved always to
shut himself up on that day. He was laughed at, but persisted in the
same course till he died four years ago at the age of seventy. He
thought to prove by the success of his precautions that a man's
destiny depends on his discretion, and on the precautions he takes to
avoid the misfortunes of which he has had warning. The line of
argument holds good in all cases except when the misfortunes are
predicted in a horoscope; for either the ills predicted are
avoidable, in which case the horoscope is a useless piece of folly,
or else the horoscope is the interpreter of destiny, in which case
all the precautions in the world are of no avail. The Chevalier
Farsetti was therefore a fool to imagine he had proved anything at
all. He would have proved a good deal for many people if he had gone
out on a Friday, and had chanced to have been assassinated. Picas de
la Mirandola, who believed in astrology, says, "I have no doubt
truly, 'Astra influunt, non cogunt'. "But would it have been a real
proof of the truth of astrology, if Farsetti had been assassinated on
a Friday? In my opinion, certainly not.
The Comte d'Eigreville had introduced me to his sister, the Comtesse
du Remain, who had been wanting to make my acquaintance ever since
she had heard of my oracle. It was not long before I made friends
with her husband and her two daughters, the elder of whom, nicknamed
"Cotenfau," married M. de Polignac later on. Madame du Remain was
handsome rather than pretty, but she won the love of all by her
kindness, her frank courtesy, and her eagerness to be of service to
her friends. She had a magnificent figure, and would have awed the
whole bench of judges if she had pleaded before them.
At her house I got to know Mesdames de Valbelle and de Rancerolles,
the Princess de Chimai, and many others who were then in the best
society of Paris. Although Madame du Remain was not a proficient in
the occult sciences, she had nevertheless consulted my oracle more
frequently than Madame d'Urfe. She was of the utmost service to me
in connection with an unhappy circumstance of which I shall speak
presently.
The day after my long conversation with Mdlle. X. C. V., my servant
told me that there was a young man waiting who wanted to give me a
letter with his own hands. I had him in, and on my asking him from
whom the letter came, he replied that I should find all particulars
in the letter, and that he had orders to wait for an answer. The
epistle ran as follows:
"I am writing this at two o'clock in the morning. I am weary and in
need of rest, but a burden on my soul deprives me of sleep. The
secret I am about to tell you will no longer be so grievous when I
have confided in you; I shall feel eased by placing it in your
breast. I am with child, and my situation drives me to despair. I
was obliged to write to you because I felt I could not say it. Give
me a word in reply."
My feelings on reading the above may be guessed. I was petrified
with astonishment and could only write, "I will be with you at eleven
o'clock."
No one should say that he has passed through great misfortunes unless
they have proved too great for his mind to bear. The confidence of
Mdlle. X. C. V. shewed me that she was in need of support. I
congratulated myself on having the preference, and I vowed to do my
best for her did it cost me my life. These were the thoughts of a
lover, but for all that I could not conceal from myself the
imprudence of the step she had taken. In such cases as these there
is always the choice between speaking or writing, and the only
feeling which can give the preference to writing is false shame, at
bottom mere cowardice. If I had not been in love with her, I should
have found it easier to have refused my aid in writing than if she
had spoken to me, but I loved her to distraction.
"Yes," said I to myself, "she can count on me. Her mishap makes her
all the dearer to me."
And below this there was another voice, a voice which whispered to me
that if I succeeded in saving her my reward was sure. I am well
aware that more than one grave moralist will fling stones at me for
this avowal, but my answer is that such men cannot be in love as I
was.
I was punctual to my appointment, and found the fair unfortunate at
the door of the hotel.
"You are going out, are you? Where are you going?"
"I am going to mass at the Church of the Augustinians."
"Is this a saint's day?"
"No; but my mother makes me go every day."
"I will come with you."
"Yes do, give me your arm; we will go into the cloisters and talk
there."
Mdlle. X. C. V. was accompanied by her maid, but she knew better
than to be in the way, so we left her in the cloisters. As soon as
we were alone she said to me,
"Have you read my letter?"
"Yes, of course; here it is, burn it yourself."
"No, keep it, and do so with your own hands."
"I see you trust in me, and I assure you I will not abuse your
trust."
"I am sure you will not. I am four months with child; I can doubt it
no longer, and the thought maddens me!"
"Comfort yourself, we will find some way to get over it."
"Yes; I leave all to you. You must procure an abortion."
"Never, dearest! that is a crime!"
"Alas! I know that well; but it is not a greater crime than suicide,
and there lies my choice: either to destroy the wretched witness of
my shame, or to poison myself. For the latter alternative I have
everything ready. You are my only friend, and it is for you to
decide which it shall be. Speak to me! Are you angry that I have
not gone to the Chevalier Farsetti before you?"
She saw my astonishment, and stopped short, and tried to wipe away
the tears which escaped from her eyes. My heart bled for her.
"Laying the question of crime on one side," said I, "abortion is out
of our power. If the means employed are not violent they are
uncertain, and if they are violent they are dangerous to the mother.
I will never risk becoming your executioner; but reckon on me, I will
not forsake you. Your honour is as dear to me as your life. Becalm,
and henceforth think that the peril is mine, not yours. Make up your
mind that I shall find some way of escape, and that there will be no
need to cut short that life, to preserve which I would gladly die.
And allow me to say that when I read your note I felt glad, I could
not help it, that at such an emergency you chose me before all others
to be your helper. You will find that your trust was not given in
vain, for no one loves you as well as I, and no one is so fain to
help you. Later you shall begin to take the remedies I will get for
you, but I warn you to be on your guard, for this is a serious
matter--one of life and death. Possibly you have already told
somebody about it--your maid or one of your sisters?"
"I have not told anybody but you, not even the author of my shame.
I tremble when I think what my mother would do and say if she found
out my situation. I am afraid she will draw her conclusions from my
shape."
"So far there is nothing to be observed in that direction, the beauty
of the outline still remains intact."
"But every day increases its size, and for that reason we must be
quick in what we do. You must find a surgeon who does not know my
name and take me to him to be bled."
"I will not run the risk, it might lead to the discovery of the whole
affair. I will bleed you myself; it is a simple operation."
"How grateful I am to you! I feel as if you had already brought me
from death to life. What I should like you to do would be to take me
to a midwife's. We can easily go without attracting any notice at
the first ball at the opera."
"Yes, sweetheart, but that step is not necessary, and it might lead
to our betrayal."
"No, no, in this great town there are midwives in every quarter, and
we should never be known; we might keep our masks on all the time.
Do me this kindness. A midwife's opinion is certainly worth having."
I could not refuse her request, but I made her agree to wait till the
last ball, as the crowd was always greater, and we had a better
chance of going out free from observation. I promised to be there in
a black domino with a white mask in the Venetian fashion, and a rose
painted beside the left eye. As soon as she saw me go out she was to
follow me into a carriage. All this was carried out, but more of it
anon.
I returned with her, and dined with them without taking any notice of
Farsetti, who was also at the table, and had seen me come back from
mass with her. We did not speak a word to one another; he did not
like me and I despised him.
I must here relate a grievous mistake of which I was guilty, and
which I have not yet forgiven myself.
I had promised to take Mdlle. X. C. V. to a midwife, but I certainly
ought to have taken her to a respectable woman's, for all we wanted
to know was how a pregnant woman should regulate her diet and manner
of living. But my evil genius took me by the Rue St. Louis, and
there I saw the Montigni entering her house with a pretty girl whom I
did not know, and so out of curiosity I went in after them. After
amusing myself there, with Mdlle. X. C. V. running in my head all the
time, I asked the woman to give me the address of a midwife, as I
wanted to consult one. She told me of a house in the Marais, where
according to her dwelt the pearl of midwives, and began telling me
some stories of her exploits, which all went to prove that the woman
was an infamous character. I took her address, however, and as I
should have to go there by night, I went the next day to see where
the house was.
Mdlle. X. C. V. began to take the remedies which I brought her, which
ought to have weakened and destroyed the result of love, but as she
did not experience any benefit, she was impatient to consult a
midwife. On the night of the last ball she recognized me as we had
agreed, and followed me out into the coach she saw me enter, and in
less than a quarter of an hour we reached the house of shame.
A woman of about fifty received us with great politeness, and asked
what she could do.
Mdlle. X. C. V. told her that she believed herself pregnant, and
that she desired some means of concealing her misfortune. The wretch
answered with a smile that she might as well tell her plainly that it
would be easy to procure abortion. "I will do your business," said
she, "for fifty Louis, half to be paid in advance on account of
drugs, and the rest when it's all over. I will trust in your
honesty, and you will have to trust in mine. Give me the twenty-five
Louis down, and come or send to-morrow for the drugs, and
instructions for using them."
So saying she turned up her clothes without any ceremony, and as I,
at Mdlle. X. C. V.'s request, looked away, she felt her and
pronounced, as she let down her dress, that she was not beyond the
fourth month.
"If my drugs," said she, "contrary to my expectation, do not do any
good, we will try some other ways, and, in any case, if I do not
succeed in obliging you I will return you your money."
"I don't doubt it for a moment," said I, "but would you tell me what
are those other ways!"
"I should tell the lady how to destroy the foetus."
I might have told her that to kill the child meant giving a mortal
wound to the mother, but I did not feel inclined to enter into a
argument with this vile creature.
"If madame decides on taking your advice," said I, "I will bring you
the money for drugs to-morrow."
I gave her two Louis and left. Mdlle. X. C. V. told me that she had
no doubt of the infamy of this woman, as she was sure it was
impossible to destroy the offspring without the risk of killing the
mother also. "My only trust," said she, "is in you." I encouraged
her in this idea, dissuading her from any criminal attempts, and
assured her over and over again that she should not find her trust in
me misplaced. All at once she complained of feeling cold, and asked
if we had not time to warm ourselves in Little Poland, saying that
she longed to see my pretty house. I was surprised and delighted
with the idea. The night was too dark for her to see the exterior
charms of my abode, she would have to satisfy herself with the
inside, and leave the rest to her imagination. I thought my hour had
come. I made the coach stop and we got down and walked some way, and
then took another at the corner of the Rue de la Ferannerie. I
promised the coachman six francs beyond his fare, and in a quarter of
an hour he put us down at my door.
I rang with the touch of the master, the Pearl opened the door, and
told me that there was nobody within, as I very well knew, but it was
her habit to do so.
"Quick!" said I, "light us a fire, and bring some glasses and a
bottle of champagne."
"Would you like an omelette?"
"Very well."
"Oh, I should like an omelette so much!" said Mdlle. X. C. V. She
was ravishing, and her laughing air seemed to promise me a moment of
bliss. I sat down before the blazing fire and made her sit on my
knee, covering her with kisses which she gave me back as lovingly. I
had almost won what I wanted when she asked me in a sweet voice to
stop. I obeyed, thinking it would please her, feeling sure that she
only delayed my victory to make it more complete, and that she would
surrender after the champagne. I saw love, kindness, trust, and
gratitude shining in her face, and I should have been sorry for her
to think that I claimed her as a mere reward. No, I wanted her love,
and nothing but her love.
At last we got to our last glass of champagne, we rose from the
table, and sentimentally but with gentle force I laid her on a couch
and held her amorously in my arms. But instead of giving herself up
to my embraces she resisted them, at first by those prayers which
usually make lovers more enterprising, then by serious remonstrances,
and at last by force. This was too much, the mere idea of using
violence has always shocked me, and I am still of opinion that the
only pleasure in the amorous embrace springs from perfect union and
agreement. I pleaded my cause in every way, I painted myself as the
lover flattered, deceived, despised! At last I told her that I had
had a cruel awakening, and I saw that the shaft went home. I fell on
my knees and begged her to forgive me. "Alas!" said she, in a voice
full of sadness, "I am no longer mistress of my heart, and have far
greater cause for grief than you." The tears flowed fast down her
cheeks, her head rested on my shoulder, and our lips met; but for all
that the piece was over. The idea of renewing the attack never came
into my head, and if it had I should have scornfully rejected it.
After a long silence, of which we both stood in need, she to conquer
her shame, and I to repress my anger, we put on our masks and
returned to the opera. On our way she dared to tell me that she
should be obliged to decline my friendship if she had to pay for it
so dearly.
"The emotions of love," I replied, "should yield to those of honour,
and your honour as well as mine require us to continue friends. What
I would have done for love I will now do for devoted friendship, and
for the future I will die rather than make another attempt to gain
those favours of which I thought you deemed me worthy."
We separated at the opera, and the vast crowd made me lose sight of
her in an instant. Next day she told me that she had danced all
night. She possibly hoped to find in that exercise the cure which no
medicine seemed likely to give her.
I returned to my house in a bad humour, trying in vain to justify a
refusal which seemed humiliating and almost incredible. My good
sense shewed me, in spite of all sophisms, that I had been grievously
insulted. I recollected the witty saying of Populia, who was never
unfaithful to her husband except when she was with child; "Non tollo
vectorem," said she, "nisi navi plena."
I felt certain that I was not loved, and the thought grieved me; and
I considered that it would be unworthy of me to love one whom I could
no longer hope to possess. I resolved to avenge myself by leaving
her to her fate, feeling that I could not allow myself to be duped as
I had been.
The night brought wisdom with it, and when I awoke in the morning my
mind was calm and I was still in love. I determined to act
generously by the unfortunate girl. Without my aid she would be
ruined; my course, then, would be to continue my services and to shew
myself indifferent to her favours. The part was no easy one, but I
played it right well, and at last my reward came of itself.
CHAPTER VII
I Continue My Relations With Mdlle. X. C. V.--Vain Attempts to
Procure Abortion--The Aroph--She Flies From Home and Takes Refuge in
a Convent
The difficulties I encountered only served to increase my love for my
charming Englishwoman. I went to see her every morning, and as my
interest in her condition was genuine, she could have no suspicion
that I was acting a part, or attribute my care of her to anything but
the most delicate feelings. For her part she seemed well pleased in
the alteration of my behaviour, though her satisfaction may very
probably have been assumed. I understood women well enough to know
that though she did not love me she was probably annoyed at seeing my
new character sit upon me so easily.
One morning in the midst of an unimportant and disconnected
conversation, she complimented me upon my strength of mind in
subduing my passion, adding, with a smile, that my desire could not
have pricked me very sharply, seeing that I had cured myself so well
in the course of a week. I quietly replied that I owed my cure not
to the weakness of my passion but to my self-respect.
"I know my own character," I said, "and without undue presumption, I
think I may say that I am worthy of a woman's love. Naturally, after
your convincing me that you think differently, I feel humiliated and
indignant. Do you know what effect such feelings have on the heart?"
"Alas!" said she, "I know too well. Their effect is to inspire one
with contempt for her who gave rise to them."
"That is going too far, at least in my case. My indignation was
merely succeeded by a renewed confidence in myself, and a
determination to be revenged."
"To be revenged! In what way?"
"I wish to compel you to esteem me, by proving to you that I am lord
of myself, and can pass by with indifference what I once so ardently
desired. I do not know whether I have succeeded yet, but I may say
that I can now contemplate your charms without desiring to possess
them."
"You are making a mistake, for I never ceased to esteem you, and I
esteemed you as much a week ago as I do to-day. Nor for a moment I
did think you capable of leaving me to my fate as a punishment for
having refused to give way to your transports, and I am glad that I
read your character rightly."
We went on to speak of the opiate I made her take, and as she saw no
change in her condition she wanted me to increase the dose--a request
I took care not to grant, as I knew that more than half a drachm
might kill her. I also forbade her to bleed herself again, as she
might do herself a serious injury without gaining anything by it.
Her maid, of whom she had been obliged to make a confidante, had had
her bled by a student, her lover. I told Mdlle. X. C. V. that if
she wanted these people to keep her counsel she must be liberal with
them, and she replied that she had no money. I offered her money and
she accepted fifty louis, assuring me that she would repay me that
sum which she needed for her brother Richard. I had not as much
money about me, but I sent her the same day a packet of twelve
hundred francs with a note in which I begged her to have recourse to
me in all her necessities. Her brother got the money, and thought
himself authorized to apply to me for aid in a much more important
matter.
He was a young man and a profligate, and had got into a house of ill-
fame, from which he came out in sorry plight. He complained bitterly
that M. Farsetti had refused to lend him four louis, and he asked me
to speak to his mother that she might pay for his cure. I consented,
but when his mother heard what was the matter with him, she said it
would be much better to leave him as he was, as this was the third
time he had been in this condition, and that to have him cured was a
waste of money, as no sooner was he well than he began his dissipated
life afresh. She was quite right, for I had him cured at my expense
by an able surgeon, and he was in the same way a month after. This
young man seemed intended by nature for shameful excesses, for at the
age of fourteen he was an accomplished profligate.
His sister was now six months with child, and as her figure grew
great so did her despair. She resolved not to leave her bed, and it
grieved me to see her thus cast down. Thinking me perfectly cured of
my passion for her, she treated me purely as a friend, making me
touch her all over to convince me that she dare not shew herself any
longer. I played in short the part of a midwife, but with what a
struggle! I had to pretend to be calm and unconcerned when I was
consumed with passion. She spoke of killing herself in a manner that
made me shudder, as I saw that she had reflected on what she was
saying. I was in a difficult position when fortune came to my
assistance in a strange and amusing manner.
One day, as I was dining with Madame d'Urfe, I asked her if she knew
of any way by which a girl, who had allowed her lover to go too far,
might be protected from shame. "I know of an infallible method," she
replied, "the aroph of Paracelsus to wit, and it is easy of
application. Do you wish to know more about it?" she added; and
without waiting for me to answer she brought a manuscript, and put it
in my hands. This powerful emmenagogue was a kind of unguent
composed of several drugs, such as saffron, myrrh, etc., compounded
with virgin honey. To obtain the necessary result one had to employ
a cylindrical machine covered with extremely soft skin, thick enough
to fill the opening of the vagina, and long enough to reach the
opening of the reservoir or case containing the foetus. The end of
this apparatus was to be well anointed with aroph, and as it only
acted at a moment of uterine excitement it was necessary to apply it
with the same movement as that of coition. The dose had to be
repeated five or six times a day for a whole week.
This nostrum, and the manner of administering it, struck me in so
laughable a light that I could not keep my countenance. I laughed
with all my heart, but for all that I spent the next two hours in
reading the dreams of Paracelsus, in which Madame d'Urfe put more
trust than in the truths of the Gospel; I afterwards referred to
Boerhaave, who speaks of the aroph in more reasonable terms.
Seeing, as I have remarked, the charming X. C. V. several hours a day
without any kind of constraint, feeling in love with her all the
time, and always restraining my feelings, it is no wonder if the
hidden fire threatened at every moment to leap up from the ashes of
its concealment. Her image pursued me unceasingly, of her I always
thought, and every day made it more evident that I should know rest
no more till I succeeded in extinguishing my passion by obtaining
possession of all her charms.
As I was thinking of her by myself I resolved to tell her of my
discovery, hoping she would need my help in the introduction of the
cylinder. I went to see her at ten o'clock, and found her, as usual,
in bed; she was weeping because the opiate I gave her did not take
effect. I thought the time a good one for introducing the aroph of
Paracelsus, which I assured her was an infallible means of attaining
the end she desired; but whilst I was singing the praises of this
application the idea came into my head to say that, to be absolutely
certain, it was necessary for the aroph to be mingled with semen
which had not lost its natural heat.
"This mixture," said I, "moistening several times a day the opening
of the womb, weakens it to such a degree that the foetus is expelled
by its own weight:"
To these details I added lengthy arguments to persuade her of the
efficacy of this cure, and then, seeing that she was absorbed in
thought, I said that as her lover was away she would want a sure
friend to live in the same house with her, and give her the dose
according to the directions of Paracelsus.
All at once she burst into a peal of laughter, and asked me if I had
been jesting all the time.
I thought the game was up. The remedy was an absurd one, on the face
of it; and if her common sense told her as much it would also make
her guess my motive. But what limits are there to the credulity of a
woman in her condition?
"If you wish," said I, persuasively, "I will give you the manuscript
where all that I have said is set down plainly. I will also shew you
what Boerhaeve thinks about it."
I saw that these words convinced her; they had acted on her as if by
magic, and I went on while the iron was hot.
"The aroph," said I, "is the most powerful agent for bringing on
menstruation."
"And that is incompatible with the state I am now in; so the aroph
should procure me a secret deliverance. Do you know its
composition?"
"Certainly; it is quite a simple preparation composed of certain
ingredients which are well known to me, and which have to be made
into a paste with butter or virgin honey. But this composition must
touch the orifice of the uterus at a moment of extreme excitement."
"But in that case it seems to me that the person who gives the dose
must be in love."
"Certainly, unless he is a mere animal requiring only physical
incentives."
She was silent for some time, for though she was quick-witted enough,
a woman's natural modesty and her own frankness, prevented her from
guessing at my artifice. I, too, astonished at my success in making
her believe this fable, remained silent.
At last, breaking the silence, she said, sadly,
"The method seems to me an excellent one, but I do not think I ought
to make use of it."
Then she asked me if the aroph took much time to make.
"Two hours at most," I answered, "if I succeed in procuring English
saffron, which Paracelsus prefers to the Oriental saffron."
At that moment her mother and the Chevalier Farsetti came in, and
after some talk of no consequence she asked me to stay to dinner. I
was going to decline, when Mdlle. X. C. V. said she would sit at
table, on which I accepted; and we all left the room to give her time
to dress. She was not long in dressing, and when she appeared her
figure seemed to me quite nymph-like. I was astonished, and could
scarcely believe my eyes, and I was on the point of thinking that I
had been imposed on, for I could not imagine how she could manage to
conceal the fulness I had felt with my own hands.
M. Farsetti sat by her, and I by the mother. Mdlle. X. C. V., whose
head was full of the aroph, asked her neighbour, who gave himself out
for a great chemist, if he knew it.
"I fancy I know it better than anyone," answered Farsetti, in a self-
satisfied manner.
"What is it good for?"
"That is too vague a question."
"What does the word mean?"
"It is an Arabic word, of which I do not know the meaning; but no
doubt Paracelsus would tell us."
"The word," said I, "is neither Arabic nor Hebrew, nor, indeed, of
any language at all. It is a contraction which conceals two other
words."
"Can you tell us what they are?" said the chevalier.
"Certainly; aro comes from aroma, and ph is the initial of
philosophorum:"
"Did you get that out of Paracelsus?" said Farsetti, evidently
annoyed.
"No, sir; I saw it in Boerhaave."
"That's good," said he, sarcastically; "Boerhaave says nothing of the
sort, but I like a man who quotes readily."
"Laugh, sir, if you like," said I, proudly, "but here is the test of
what I say; accept the wager if you dare. I don't quote falsely,
like persons who talk of words being Arabic."
So saying I flung a purse of gold on the table, but Farsetti, who was
by no means sure of what he was saying, answered disdainfully that he
never betted.
However, Mdlle. X. C. V., enjoying his confusion, told him that was
the best way never to lose, and began to joke him on his Arabic
derivation. But, for my part, I replaced my purse in my pocket, and
on some trifling pretext went out and sent my servant to Madame
d'Urfe's to get me Boerhaave.
On my return to the room I sat down again at table, and joined gaily
in the conversation till the return of my messenger with the book. I
opened it, and as I had been reading it the evening before I soon
found the place I wanted, and giving it to him begged him to satisfy
himself that I had quoted not readily but exactly. Instead of taking
the book, he got up and went out without saying a word.
"He has gone away in a rage," said the mother; "and I would wager
anything that he will not come back again."
"I wager he will," said the daughter, "he will honour us with his
agreeable company before to-morrow's sun has set."
She was right. From that day Farsetti became my determined enemy,
and let no opportunity slip of convincing me of his hatred.
After dinner we all went to Passy to be present at a concert given by
M. de la Popeliniere, who made us stay to supper. I found there
Silvia and her charming daughter, who pouted at me and not without
cause, as I had neglected her. The famous adept, St. Germain,
enlivened the table with his wild tirades so finely delivered. I
have never seen a more intellectual or amusing charlatan than he.
Next day I shut myself up to answer a host of questions that Esther
had sent me. I took care to answer all those bearing on business
matters as obscurely as possible, not only for the credit of the
oracle, but also for fear of misleading the father and making him
lose money. The worthy man was the most honest of Dutch
millionaires, but he might easily make a large hole in his fortune,
if he did not absolutely ruin himself, by putting an implicit trust
in my infallibility. As for Esther, I confess that she was now no
more to me than a pleasant memory.
In spite of my pretence of indifference, my whole heart was given to
Mdlle. X. C. V., and I dreaded the moment when she would be no longer
able to hide her condition from her family. I was sorry for having
spoken about the aroph, as three days had gone by without her
mentioning it, and I could not very well reopen the question myself.
I was afraid that she suspected my motives, and that the esteem she
professed for me had been replaced by a much less friendly sentiment.
I felt that her scorn would be too much for me to bear. So
humiliated was I that I could not visit her, and I doubt if I should
have seen her again if she had not intervened. She wrote me a note,
in which she said I was her only friend, and that the only mark of
friendship she wanted was that I should come and see her every day,
if it were but for a moment. I hasted to take her my reply in my own
person, and promised not to neglect her, assuring her that at all
hazards she might rely on me. I flattered myself that she would
mention the aroph, but she did not do so. I concluded that, after
thinking it over, she had resolved to think no more about it.
"Would you like me," I said, "to invite your mother and the rest of
you to dine with me?"
"I shall be delighted," she replied. "It will be a forbidden
pleasure to me before long."
I gave them a dinner both sumptuous and delicate. I had spared no
expense to have everything of the best. I had asked Silvia, her
charming daughter, an Italian musician named Magali, with whom a
sister of Mdlle. X. C. V.'s was taken, and the famous bass La Garde.
Mdlle. X. C. V. was in the highest spirits all the time. Sallies of
wit, jests, good stories and enjoyment, were the soul of the banquet.
We did not separate till midnight, and before leaving Mdlle. X. C. V.
found a moment to whisper to me to come and see her early next
morning, as she wanted to speak to me on matters of importance.
It will be guessed that I accepted the invitation. I waited on her
before eight o'clock. She was very melancholy, and told me that she
was in despair, that la Popeliniere pressed on the marriage, and that
her mother persecuted her.
"She tells me that I must sign the contract, and that the dressmaker
will soon be coming to take my measure for my wedding dress. To that
I cannot consent, for a dressmaker would certainly see my situation.
I will die rather than confide in my mother, or marry before I am
delivered."
"There is always time enough to talk about dying," said I, "when all
other means have failed. I think you could easily get rid of la
Popeliniere, who is a man of honour. Tell him how you are situated,
and he will act without compromising you, as his own interest is
sufficiently involved to make him keep the secret."
"But should I be much better off then? And how about my mother?"
"Your mother? Oh! I will make her listen to reason."
"You know not what she is like. The honour of the family would
oblige her to get me out of the way, but before that she would make
me suffer torments to which death is preferable by far. But why have
you said no more about the aroph? Is it not all a jest? It would
be a very cruel one."
"On the contrary, I believe it to be infallible, though I have never
been a witness of its effects; but what good is it for me to speak to
you? You can guess that a delicacy of feeling has made me keep
silence. Confide in your lover, who is at Venice; write him a
letter, and I will take care that it is given into his hands, in five
or six days, by a sure messenger. If he is not well off I will give
you whatever money may be needed for him to come without delay, and
save your honour and life by giving you the aroph."
"This idea is a good one and the offer generous on your part, but it
is not feasible, as you would see if you knew more about my
circumstances. Do not think any more of my lover; but supposing I
made up my mind to receive the aroph from another, tell me how it
could be done. Even if my lover were in Paris, how could he spend an
entire week with me, as he would have to? And how could he give me
the dose five or six times a day for a week? You see yourself that
this remedy is out of the question."
"So you would give yourself to another, if you thought that would
save your honour?"
"Certainly, if I were sure that the thing would be kept secret. But
where shall I find such a person? Do you think he would be easy to
find, or that I can go and look for him?"
I did not know what to make of this speech; for she knew I loved her,
and I did not see why she should put herself to the trouble of going
far when what she wanted was to her hand. I was inclined to think
that she wanted me to ask her to make choice of myself as the
administrator of the remedy, either to spare her modesty, or to have
the merit of yielding to my love and thus obliging me to be grateful;
but I might be wrong, and I did not care to expose myself to the
humiliation of a refusal. On the other hand I could hardly think she
wanted to insult me. Not knowing what to say or which way to turn,
and wanting to draw an explanation from her, I sighed profoundly,
took up my hat, and made as if I were going, exclaiming, "Cruel girl,
my lot is more wretched than yours."
She raised herself in the bed and begged me with tears in her eyes to
remain, and asked me how I could call myself more wretched than her.
Pretending to be annoyed and yet full of love for her, I told her
that the contempt in which she held me had affected me deeply, since
in her necessity she preferred the offices of one who was unknown to
her rather than make use of me.
"You are cruel and unjust," she said, weeping. "I see, for my part,
that you love me no longer since you wish to take advantage of my
cruel necessity to gain a triumph over me. This is an act of revenge
not worthy of a man of feeling."
Her tears softened me, and I fell on my knees before her.
"Since you know, dearest, that I worship you, how can you think me
capable of revenging myself on you? Do you think that I can bear to
hear you say that since your lover cannot help you you do not know
where to look for help?"
"But after refusing you my favours, could I ask this office of you
with any decency? Have I not good reason to be afraid that as I
refused to take pity on your love so you would refuse to take pity on
my necessity?"
"Do you think that a passionate lover ceases to love on account of a
refusal which may be dictated by virtue? Let me tell you all I
think. I confess I once thought you did not love me, but now I am
sure of the contrary; and that your heart would have led you to
satisfy my love, even if you had not been thus situated. I may add
that you no doubt feel vexed at my having any doubts of your love."
"You have interpreted my feelings admirably. But how we are to be
together with the necessary freedom from observation remains to be
seen."
"Do not be afraid. Now I am sure of your consent, it will not be
long before I contrive some plan. In the meanwhile I will go and
make the aroph."
I had resolved that if ever I succeeded in persuading Mdlle. X. C. V.
to make use of my specific I would use nothing but honey, so the
composition of the aroph would not be a very complicated process.
But if one point was then plain and simple, another remained to be
solved, and its solution gave me some difficulty. I should have to
pass several nights in continual toils. I feared I had promised more
than I could perform, and I should not be able to make any abatement
without hazarding, not the success of the aroph, but the bliss I had
taken such pains to win. Again, as her younger sister slept in the
same room with her and close to her, the operation could not be
performed there. At last chance--a divinity which often helps
lovers--came to my aid.
I was obliged to climb up to the fourth floor and met the scullion on
my way, who guessed where I was going, and begged me not to go any
farther as the place was taken.
"But," said I, "you have just come out of it."
"Yes, but I only went in and came out again."
"Then I will wait till the coast is clear."
"For goodness' sake, sir, do not wait!"
"Ah, you rascal! I see what is going on. Well I will say nothing
about it, but I must see her."
"She won't come out, for she heard your steps and shut herself in."
"She knows me, does she?"
"Yes, and you know her."
"All right, get along with you! I won't say anything about it."
He went down, and the idea immediately struck me that the adventure
might be useful to me. I went up to the top, and through a chink I
saw Madelaine, Mdlle. X. C. V.'s maid. I reassured her, and promised
to keep the secret, whereon she opened the door, and after I had
given her a louis, fled in some confusion. Soon after, I came down,
and the scullion who was waiting for me on the landing begged me to
make Madelaine give him half the louis.
"I will give you one all to yourself," said I, "if you will tell me
the story"--an offer which pleased the rogue well enough. He told me
the tale of his loves, and said he always spent the night with her in
the garret, but that for three days they had been deprived of their
pleasures, as madam had locked the door and taken away the key. I
made him shew me the place, and looking through the keyhole I saw
that there was plenty of room for a mattress. I gave the scullion a
Louis, and went away to ripen my plans.
It seemed to me that there was no reason why the mistress should not
sleep in the garret as well as the maid. I got a picklock and
several skeleton keys, I put in a tin box several doses of the aroph-
that is, some honey mixed with pounded stag's horn to make it thick
enough, and the next morning I went to the "Hotel de Bretagne," and
immediately tried my picklock. I could have done without it, as the
first skeleton key I tried opened the wornout lock.
Proud of my idea, I went down to see Mdlle. X. C. V., and in a few
words told her the plan.
"But," said she, "I should have to go through Madelaine's room to get
to the garret."
"In that case, dearest, we must win the girl over."
"Tell her my secret?"
"Just so."
"Oh, I couldn't!"
"I will see to it; the golden key opens all doors."
The girl consented to all I asked her, but the scullion troubled me,
for if he found us out he might be dangerous. I thought, however,
that I might trust to Madelaine, who was a girl of wit, to look after
him.
Before going I told the girl that I wanted to discuss some important
matters with her, and I told her to meet me in the cloisters of the
Augustinian Church. She came at the appointed time and I explained
to her the whole plan in all its details. She soon understood me,
and after telling me that she would take care to put her own bed in
the new kind of boudoir, she added that, to be quite safe, we must
make sure of the scullion.
"He is a sharp lad," said Madelaine, "and I think I can answer for
him. However, you may leave that to me."
I gave her the key and six louis, bidding her inform her mistress of
what we had agreed upon, and get the garret ready to receive us. She
went away quite merry. A maid who is in love is never so happy as
when she can make her mistress protect her intrigues.
Next morning the scullion called on me at my house. The first thing
I told him was to take care not to betray himself to my servants, and
never to come and see me except in a case of necessity. He promised
discretion, and assured me of his devotion to my service. He gave me
the key of the garret and told me that he had got another. I admired
his forethought, and gave him a present of six louis, which had more
effect on him than the finest words.
Next morning I only saw Mdlle. X. C. V. for a moment to warn her that
I should be at the appointed place at ten that evening. I went there
early without being seen by anybody. I was in a cloak, and carried
in my pocket the aroph, flint and steel, and a candle. I found a
good bed, pillows, and a thick coverlet--a very useful provision, as
the nights were cold, and we should require some sleep in the
intervals of the operation.
At eleven a slight noise made my heart begin to beat--always a good
sign. I went out, and found my mistress by feeling for her, and
reassured her by a tender kiss. I brought her in, barricaded the
door, and took care to cover up the keyhole to baffle the curious,
and, if the worse happened, to avoid a surprise.
On my lighting the candle she seemed uneasy, and said that the light
might discover us if anybody came up to the fourth floor.
"That's not likely," I said; "and besides, we can't do without it,
for how am I to give you the aroph in the dark?"
"Very good," she replied, "we can put it out afterwards."
Without staying for those preliminary dallyings which are so sweet
when one is at ease, we undressed ourselves, and began with all
seriousness to play our part, which we did to perfection. We looked
like a medical student about to perform an operation, and she like a
patient, with this difference that it was the patient who arranged
the dressing. When she was ready--that is, when she had placed the
aroph as neatly as a skull-cap fits a parson--she put herself in the
proper position for the preparation to mix with the semen.
The most laughable part of it all was that we were both as serious as
two doctors of divinity.
When the introduction of the aroph was perfect the timid lady put out
the candle, but a few minutes after it had to be lighted again. I
told her politely that I was delighted to begin again, and the voice
in which I paid her this compliment made us both burst into laughter.
I didn't take so short a time over my second operation as my first,
and my sweetheart, who had been a little put out, was now quite at
her ease.
Her modesty had now been replaced by confidence, and as she was
looking at the aroph fitted in its place, she shewed me with her
pretty finger very evident signs of her co-operation in the work.
Then with an affectionate air, she asked me if I would not like to
rest, as we had still a good deal to do before our work was at an
end.
"You see," said I, "that I do not need rest, and I think we had
better set to again."
No doubt she found my reason a good one, for, without saying
anything, she put herself ready to begin again, and afterwards we
took a good long sleep. When I woke up, feeling as fresh as ever, I
asked her to try another operation; and after carrying this through
successfully, I determined to be guided by her and take care of
myself, for we had to reserve our energies for the following nights.
So, about four o'clock in the morning she left me, and softly made
her way to her room, and at daybreak I left the hotel under the
protection of the scullion, who took me by a private door I did not
know of.
About noon, after taking an aromatic bath, I went to call on Mdlle.
X. C. V., whom I found sitting up in bed as usual, elegantly attired,
and with a happy smile on her lips. She spoke at such length on her
gratitude, and thanked me so often, that, believing myself, and with
good cause, to be her debtor, I began to get impatient.
"Is it possible," I said, "that you do not see how degrading your
thanks are to me? They prove that you do not love me, or that if
you love me, you think my love less strong than yours."
Our conversation then took a tender turn, and we were about to seal
our mutual ardours without troubling about the aroph, when prudence
bade us beware. It would not have been safe, and we had plenty of
time before us. We contented ourselves with a tender embrace till
the night should come.
My situation was a peculiar one, for though I was in love with this
charming girl I did not feel in the least ashamed of having deceived
her, especially as what I did could have no effect, the place being
taken. It was my self-esteem which made me congratulate myself on
the sharp practice which had procured me such pleasures. She told me
that she was sorry she had denied me when I had asked her before, and
said that she felt now that I had good reason to suspect the reality
of her love. I did my best to reassure her, and indeed all
suspicions on my part would have been but idle thoughts, as I had
succeeded beyond all expectation. However, there is one point upon
which I congratulate myself to this day--namely, that during those
nightly toils of mine, which did so little towards the object of her
desires, I succeeded in inspiring her with such a feeling of
resignation that she promised, of her own accord, not to despair any
more, but to trust in and be guided by me. She often told me during
our nocturnal conversations that she was happy and would continue to
be so, even though the aroph had no effect. Not that she had ceased
to believe in it, for she continued the application of the harmless
preparation till our last assaults, in which we wanted in those sweet
combats to exhaust all the gifts of pleasure.
"Sweetheart," said she, just before we parted finally, "it seems to
me that what we have been about is much more likely to create than to
destroy, and if the aperture had not been hermetically closed we
should doubtless have given the little prisoner a companion."
A doctor of the Sorbonne could not have reasoned better.
Three or four days afterwards I found her thoughtful but quiet. She
told me that she had lost all hope of getting rid of her burden
before the proper time. All the while, however, her mother
persecuted her, and she would have to choose in a few days between
making a declaration as to her state and signing the marriage
contract. She would accept neither of these alternatives, and had
decided on escaping from her home, and asked me to help her in doing
so.
I had determined to help her, but I desired to save my reputation,
for it might have been troublesome if it had been absolutely known
that I had carried her off or furnished her with the means to escape.
And as for any other alternative, neither of us had any idea of
matrimony.
I left her and went to the Tuileries, where a sacred concert was
being given. The piece was a motet composed by Moudonville, the
words by the Abbe de Voisenon, whom I had furnished with the idea,
"The Israelites on Mount Horeb."
As I was getting out of my carriage, I saw Madame du Remain
descending alone from hers. I ran up. to her, and received a hearty
welcome. "I am delighted," said she, "to find you here, it is quite
a piece of luck. I am going to hear this novel composition, and have
two reserved seats. Will you do me the honour of accepting one?"
Although I had my ticket in my pocket I could not refuse so
honourable an offer, so, giving her my arm, we walked up to two of
the best places in the house.
At Paris no talking is allowed during the performance of sacred
music, especially when the piece is heard for the first time; so
Madame du Remain could draw no conclusions from my silence throughout
the performance, but she guessed that something was the matter from
the troubled and absent expression of my face, which was by no means
natural to me.
"M. Casanova," said she, "be good enough to give me your company for
an hour. I want to ask you-two or three questions which can only be
solved by your cabala. I hope you will oblige me, as I am, very
anxious to know the answers, but we must be quick as I have an
engagement to sup in Paris."
It may be imagined that I did not wait to be asked twice, and as soon
as we got to her house I went to work on the questions, and solved
them all in less than half an hour.
When I had finished, "M. Casanova;" said she, in the kindest manner
possible, "what is the matter with you? You are not in your usual
state of equanimity, and if I am not mistaken you are dreading some
dire event. Or perhaps you are on the eve of taking some important
resolution? I am not inquisitive, but if I can be of any service to
you at Court, make use of me, and be sure that I will do my best. If
necessary, I will go to Versailles to-morrow morning. I know all the
ministers. Confide in me your troubles, if I cannot lighten them I
can at least share them, and be sure I will keep your counsel."
Her words seemed to me a voice from heaven, a warning from my good
genius to open my heart to this lady, who had almost read my
thoughts, and had so plainly expressed her interest in my welfare.
After gazing at her for some seconds without speaking, but with a
manner that shewed her how grateful I was, "Yes madam," I said, "I am
indeed critically situated, may be on the serge of ruin, but your
kindness has calmed my soul and made me once more acquainted with
hope. You shall hear how I am placed. I am going to trust you with
a secret of the most delicate description, but I can rely on your
being as discreet as you are good. And if after hearing my story you
deign to give me your advice, I promise to follow it and never to
divulge its author."
After this beginning, which gained her close attention, I told her
all the circumstances of the case, neither concealing the young
lady's name nor any of the circumstances which made it my duty to
watch over her welfare. All the same I said nothing about the aroph
or the share I had taken in its exhibition. The incident appeared to
me too farcical for a serious drama, but I confessed that I had
procured the girl drugs in the hope of relieving her of her burden.
After this weighty communication I stopped, and Madame du Rumain
remained silent, as if lost in thought, for nearly a quarter of an
hour. At last she rose, saying,
"I am expected at Madame de la Marque's, and I must go, as I am to
meet the Bishop of Montrouge, to whom I want to speak, but I hope I
shall eventually be able to help you. Come here the day after
tomorrow, you will find me alone; above all, do nothing before you
see me. Farewell."
I left her full of hope, and resolved to follow her advice and hers
only in the troublesome affair in which I was involved.
The Bishop of Montrouge whom she was going to address on an important
matter, the nature of which was well known to me, was the Abbe de
Voisenon, who was thus named because he often went there. Montrouge
is an estate near Paris, belonging to the Duc de la Valiere.
I saw Mdlle. X. C. V. the following day, and contented myself with
telling her that in a couple of days I hope to give her some good
news. I was pleased with her manner, which was full of resignation
and trust in my endeavours.
The day after, I went to Madame du Rumain's punctually at eight. The
porter told me that I should find the doctor with my lady, but I went
upstairs all the same, and as soon as the doctor saw me he took his
leave. His name was Herrenschwand, and all the ladies in Paris ran
after him. Poor Poinsinet put him in a little one-act play called Le
Cercle, which, though of very ordinary merit, was a great success.
"My dear sir," said Madame du Rumain, as soon as we were alone, "I
have succeeded in my endeavours on your behalf, and it is now for you
to keep secret my share in the matter. After I had pondered over the
case of conscience you submitted to me, I went to the convent of C---
where the abbess is a friend of mine, and I entrusted her with the
secret, relying on her discretion. We agreed that she should receive
the young lady in her convent, and give her a good lay-sister to
nurse her through her confinement. Now you will not deny," said she,
with a smile, "that the cloisters are of some use. Your young friend
must go by herself to the convent with a letter for the abbess, which
I will give her, and which she must deliver to the porter. She will
then be admitted and lodged in a suitable chamber. She will receive
no visitors nor any letters that have not passed through my hands.
The abbess will bring her answers to me, and I will pass them on to
you. You must see that her only correspondent must be yourself, and
you must receive news of her welfare only through me. On your hand
in writing to her you must leave the address to be filled in by me.
I had to tell the abbess the lady's name, but not yours as she did
not require it.
"Tell your young friend all about our plans, and when she is ready
come and tell me, and I will give you the letter to the abbess. Tell
her to bring nothing but what is strictly necessary, above all no
diamonds or trinkets of any value. You may assure her that the
abbess will be friendly, will come and see her every now and then,
will give her proper books--in a word, that she will be well looked
after. Warn her not to confide in the laysister who will attend on
her. I have no doubt she is an excellent woman, but she is a nun,
and the secret might leak out. After she is safely delivered, she
must go to confession and perform her Easter duties, and the abbess
will give her a certificate of good behaviour; and she can then
return to her mother, who will be too happy to see her to say
anything more about the marriage, which, of course, she ought to give
as her reason of her leaving home."
After many expressions of my gratitude to her, and of my admiration
of her plan, I begged her to give me the letter on the spot, as there
was no time to be lost. She was good enough to go at once to her
desk, where she wrote as follows:
"My dear abbess--The young lady who will give you this letter is
the same of whom we have spoken. She wishes to spend three of four
months under your protection, to recover her peace of mind, to
perform her devotions, and to make sure that when she returns to her
mother nothing more will be said about the marriage, which is partly
the cause of her temporary separation from her family."
After reading it to me, she put it into my hands unsealed that Mdlle.
X. C. V. might be able to read it. The abbess in question was a
princess, and her convent was consequently a place above all
suspicion. As Madame du Rumain gave me the letter, I felt such an
impulse of gratitude that I fell on my knees before her. This
generous woman was useful to me on another occasion, of which I shall
speak later on.
After leaving Madame du Rumain I went straight to the "Hotel de
Bretagne," where I saw Mdlle. X. C. V., who had only time to tell me
that she was engaged for the rest of the day, but that she would come
to the garret at eleven o'clock that night, and that then we could
talk matters over. I was overjoyed at this arrangement, as I foresaw
that after this would come the awakening from a happy dream, and that
I should be alone with her no more.
Before leaving the hotel I gave the word to Madelaine, who in turn
got the scullion to have everything in readiness.
I kept the appointment, and had not long to wait for my mistress.
After making her read the letter written by Madame du Rumain (whose
name I withheld from her without her taking offence thereat) I put
out the candle, and without troubling about the aroph, we set
ourselves to the pleasant task of proving that we truly loved each
other.
In the morning, before we separated, I gave her all the instructions
I had received from Madame du Rumain; and we agreed that she should
leave the house at eight o'clock with such things as she absolutely
required, that she should take a coach to the Place Maubert, then
send it away, and take another to the Place Antoine, and again,
farther on, a third coach, in which she was to go to the convent
named. I begged her not to forget to burn all the letters she had
received from me, and to write to me from the convent as often as she
could, to seal her letters but to leave the address blank. She
promised to carry out my instructions, and I then made her accept a
packet of two hundred louis, of which she might chance to be in need.
She wept, more for my situation than her own, but I consoled her by
saying that I had plenty of money and powerful patrons.
"I will set out," said she, "the day after to-morrow, at the hour
agreed on." And thereupon, I having promised to come to the house
the day after her departure, as if I knew nothing about it, and to
let her know what passed, we embraced each other tenderly, and I left
her.
I was troubled in thinking about her fate. She had wit and courage,
but when experience is wanting wit often leads men to commit acts of
great folly.
The day after the morrow I took a coach, and posted myself in a
corner of the street by which she had to pass. I saw her come, get
out of the coach, pay the coachman, go down a narrow street, and a
few minutes after reappear again, veiled and hooded, carrying a small
parcel in her hand. She then took another conveyance which went off
in the direction we had agreed upon.
The day following being Low Sunday, I felt that I must present myself
at the "Hotel de Bretagne," for as I went there every day before the
daughter's flight I could not stop going there without strengthening
any suspicions which might be entertained about me. But it was a
painful task. I had to appear at my ease and cheerful in a place
where I was quite sure all would be sadness and confusion. I must
say that it was an affair requiring higher powers of impudence than
fall to the lot of most men.
I chose a time when all the family would be together at table, and I
walked straight into the dining-room. I entered with my usual
cheerful manner, and sat down by madame, a little behind her,
pretending not to see her surprise, which, however, was plainly to be
seen, her whole face being flushed with rage and astonishment. I had
not been long in the room before I asked where her daughter was. She
turned round, looked me through and through, and said not a word.
"Is she ill?" said I.
"I know nothing about her."
This remark, which was pronounced in a dry manner, put me at my ease,
as I now felt at liberty to look concerned. I sat there for a
quarter of an hour, playing the part of grave and astonished silence,
and then, rising, I asked if I could do anything, for which all my
reward was a cold expression of thanks. I then left the room and
went to Mdlle. X. C. V.'s chamber as if I had thought she was there,
but found only Madelaine. I asked her with a meaning look where her
mistress was. She replied by begging me to tell her, if I knew.
"Has she gone by herself?"
"I know nothing at all about it, sir, but they say you know all. I
beg of you to leave me."
Pretending to be in the greatest astonishment, I slowly walked away
and took a coach, glad to have accomplished this painful duty. After
the reception I had met with I could without affectation pose as
offended, and visit the family no more, for whether I were guilty or
innocent, Madame X. C. V. must see that her manner had been plain
enough for me to know what it meant.
I was looking out of my window at an early hour two or three days
afterwards, when a coach stopped before my door, and Madame X C V-,
escorted by M. Farsetti got out. I made haste to meet them on the
stair, and welcomed them, saying I was glad they had done me the
honour to come and take breakfast with me, pretending not to know of
any other reason. I asked them to sit down before the fire, and
enquired after the lady's health; but without noticing my question
she said that she had not come to take breakfast, but to have some
serious conversation.
"Madam," said I, "I am your humble servant; but first of all pray be
seated."
She sat down, while Farsetti continued standing. I did not press
him, but turning towards the lady begged her to command me.
"I am come here," she said, "to ask you to give me my daughter if she
be in your power, or to tell me where she is."
"Your daughter, madam? I know nothing about her! Do you think me
capable of a crime?"
"I do not accuse you of abducting her; I have not come here to
reproach you nor to utter threats, I have only come to ask you to
shew yourself my friend. Help me to get my daughter again this very
day; you will give me my life. I am certain that you know all. You
were her only confidant and her only friend; you passed hours with
her every day; she must have told you of her secret. Pity a bereaved
mother! So far no one knows of the facts; give her back to me and
all shall be forgotten, and her honour saved."
"Madam, I feel for you acutely, but I repeat that I know nothing of
your daughter."
The poor woman, whose grief touched me, fell at my feet and burst
into tears. I was going to lift her from the ground, when Farsetti
told her, in a voice full of indignation, that she should blush to
humble herself in such a manner before a man of my description. I
drew myself up, and looking at him scornfully said,
"You insolent scoundrel! What do you mean by talking of me like
that?"
"Everybody is certain that you know all about it."
"Then they are impudent fools, like you. Get out of my house this
instant and wait for me, I will be with you in a quarter of an hour."
So saying, I took the poor chevalier by the shoulders, and giving him
sundry shakes I turned him out of the room. He came back and called
to the lady to come, too, but she rose and tried to quiet me.
"You ought to be more considerate towards a lover," said she, "for he
would marry my daughter now, even after what she has done."
"I am aware of the fact, madam, and I have no doubt that his
courtship was one of the chief reasons which made your daughter
resolve to leave her home, for she hated him even more than she hated
the fermier-general."
"She has behaved very badly, but I promise not to say anything more
about marrying her. But I am sure you know all about it, as you gave
her fifty louis, without which she could not have done anything."
"Nay, not so."
"Do not deny it, sir; here is the evidence--a small piece of your
letter to her."
She gave me a scrap of the letter I had sent the daughter, with the
fifty louis for her brother. It contained the following lines,
"I hope that these wretched louis will convince you that I am ready
to sacrifice everything, my life if need be, to assure you of my
affection."
"I am far from disavowing this evidence of my esteem for your
daughter, but to justify myself I am obliged to tell you a fact which
I should have otherwise kept secret--namely, that I furnished your
daughter with this sum to enable her to pay your son's debts, for
which he thanked me in a letter which I can shew you."
"My son?"
"Your son, madam."
"I will make you an ample atonement for my suspicions."
Before I had time to make any objection, she ran down to fetch
Farsetti, who was waiting in the courtyard, and made him come up and
hear what I had just told her.
"That's not a likely tale," said the insolent fellow.
I looked at him contemptuously, and told him he was not worth
convincing, but that I would beg the lady to ask her son and see
whether I told the truth.
"I assure you," I added, "that I always urged your daughter to marry
M. de la Popeliniere."
"How can you have the face to say that," said Farsetti, "when you
talk in the letter of your affection?"
"I do not deny it," said I. "I loved her, and I was proud of my
affection for her. This affection, of whatever sort it may have been
(and that is not this gentleman's business), was the ordinary topic
of conversation between us. If she had told me that she was going to
leave her home, I should either have dissuaded her or gone with her,
for I loved her as I do at this moment; but I would never have given
her money to go alone."
"My dear Casanova," said the mother, "if you will help me to find her
I shall believe in your innocence."
"I shall be delighted to aid you, and I promise to commence the quest
to-day."
"As soon as you have any news, come and tell me."
"You may trust me to do so," said I, and we parted.
I had to play my part carefully; especially it was essential that I
should behave in public in a manner consistent with my professions.
Accordingly, the next day I went to M. Chaban, first commissary of
police, requesting him to institute enquiries respecting the flight
of Mdlle. X. C. V. I was sure that in this way the real part I had
taken in the matter would be the better concealed; but the
commissary, who had the true spirit of his profession, and had liked
me when he first saw me six years before, began to laugh when he
heard what I wanted him to do.
"Do you really want the police to discover," said he, "where the
pretty Englishwoman is to be found?"
"Certainly."
It then struck me that he was trying to make me talk and to catch me
tripping, and I had no doubt of it when I met Farsetti going in as I
was coming out.
Next day I went to acquaint Madame X. C. V. with the steps I had
taken, though as yet my efforts had not been crowned with success.
"I have been more fortunate than you," said she, "and if you will
come with me to the place where my daughter has gone, and will join
me in persuading her to return, all will be well."
"Certainly," said I, "I shall be most happy to accompany you."
Taking me at my word, she put on her cloak, and leaning on my arm
walked along till we came to a coach. She then gave me a slip of
paper, begging me to tell the coachman to drive us to the address
thereon.
I was on thorns, and my heart beat fast, for I thought I should have
to read out the address of the convent. I do not know what I should
have done if my fears had been well grounded, but I should certainly
not have gone to the convent. At last I read what was written; it
was "Place Maubert," and I grew calm once more.
I told the coachman to drive us to the Place Maubert. We set off,
and in a short time stopped at the opening of an obscure back street
before a dirty-looking house, which did not give one a high idea of
the character of its occupants. I gave Madame X. C. V. my arm, and
she had the satisfaction of looking into every room in the five
floors of the house, but what she sought for was not there, and I
expected to see her overwhelmed with grief. I was mistaken, however.
She looked distressed but satisfied, and her eyes seemed to ask
pardon of me. She had found out from the coachman, who had taken her
daughter on the first stage of her journey, that she had alighted in
front of the house in question, and had gone down the back street.
She told me that the scullion had confessed that he had taken me
letters twice from his young mistress, and that Madelaine said all
the time that she was sure her mistress and I were in love with each
other. They played their parts well.
As soon as I had seen Madame X. C. V. safely home, I went to Madame
du Rumain to tell her what had happened; and I then wrote to my fair
recluse, telling her what had gone on in the world since her
disappearance.
Three or four days after this date, Madame du Rumain gave me the
first letter I received from Mdlle. X. C. V. She spoke in it of the
quiet life she was leading, and her gratitude to me, praised the
abbess and the lay-sister, and gave me the titles of the books they
lent her, which she liked reading. She also informed me what money
she had spent, and said she was happy in everything, almost in being
forbidden to leave her room.
I was delighted with her letter, but much more with the abbess's
epistle to Madame du Rumain. She was evidently fond of the girl, and
could not say too much in her praise, saying how sweet-tempered,
clever, and lady-like she was; winding up by assuring her friend that
she went to see her every day.
I was charmed to see the pleasure this letter afforded Madame du
Rumain--pleasure which was increased by the perusal of the letter I
had received. The only persons who were displeased were the poor
mother, the frightful Farsetti, and the old fermier, whose misfortune
was talked about in the clubs, the Palais-Royal, and the coffee-
houses. Everybody put me down for some share in the business, but I
laughed at their gossip, believing that I was quite safe.
All the same, la Popeliniere took the adventure philosophically and
made a one-act play out of it, which he had acted at his little
theatre in Paris. Three months afterwards he got married to a very
pretty girl, the daughter of a Bordeaux alderman. He died in the
course of two years, leaving his widow pregnant with a son, who came
into the world six months after the father's death. The unworthy
heir to the rich man had the face to accuse the widow of adultery,
and got the child declared illegitimate to the eternal shame of the
court which gave this iniquitous judgment and to the grief of every
honest Frenchman. The iniquitous nature of the judgment was
afterwards more clearly demonstrated--putting aside the fact that
nothing could be said against the mother's character--by the same
court having the, face to declare a child born eleven months after
the father's death legitimate.
I continued for ten days to call upon Madame X. C. V., but finding
myself coldly welcomed, decided to go there no more.
CHAPTER VIII
Fresh Adventures--J. J. Rousseau--I set Up A Business--Castel--Bajac
--A Lawsuit is Commenced Against Me--M. de Sartine
Mdlle. X. C. V. had now been in the convent for a month, and her
affair had ceased to be a common topic of conversation. I thought I
should hear no more of it, but I was mistaken. I continued, however,
to amuse myself, and my pleasure in spending freely quite prevented
me from thinking about the future. The Abbe de Bernis, whom I went
to see regularly once a week, told me one day that the comptroller-
general often enquired how I was getting on. "You are wrong," said
the abbe, "to neglect him." He advised me to say no more about my
claims, but to communicate to him the means I had spoken of for
increasing the revenues of the state. I laid too great store by the
advice of the man who had made my fortune not to follow it. I went
to the comptroller, and trusting in his probity I explained my scheme
to him. This was to pass a law by which every estate, except that
left by father to son, should furnish the treasury with one year's
income; every deed of gift formally drawn up being subject to the
same provision. It seemed to me that the law could not give offence
to anyone; the heir had only to imagine that he had inherited a year
later than was actually the case. The minister was of the same
opinion as myself, told me that there would not be the slightest
difficulty involved, and assured me that my fortune was made. In a
week afterwards his place was taken by M. de Silhouette, and when I
called on the new minister he told me coldly that when my scheme
became law he would tell me. It became law two years afterwards, and
when, as the originator of the scheme, I attempted to get my just
reward, they laughed in my face.
Shortly after, the Pope died, and he was succeeded by the Venetian
Rezzonico, who created my patron, the Abby de Bernis, a cardinal.
However, he had to go into exile by order of the king two days after
his gracious majesty had presented him with the red cap: so good a
thing it is to be the friend of kings!
The disgrace of my delightful abbe left me without a patron, but I
had plenty of money, and so was enabled to bear this misfortune with
resignation.
For having undone all the work of Cardinal Richelieu, for having
changed the old enmity between France and Austria into friendship,
for delivering Italy from the horrors of war which befell her
whenever these countries had a bone to pick, although he was the
first cardinal made by a pope who had had plenty of opportunities for
discovering his character, merely because, on being asked, he had
given it as his opinion that the Prince de Soubise was not a fit
person to command the French armies, this great ecclesiastic was
driven into exile. The moment the Pompadour heard of this opinion of
his, she decreed his banishment--a sentence which was unpopular with
all classes of society; but they consoled themselves with epigrams,
and the new cardinal was soon forgotten. Such is the character of
the French people; it cares neither for its own misfortunes nor for
those of others, if only it can extract laughter from them.
In my time epigrammatists and poetasters who assailed ministers or
even the king's mistresses were sent to the Bastille, but the wits
still persisted in being amusing, and there were some who considered
a jest incomplete that was not followed by a prosecution. A man
whose name I have forgotten--a great lover of notoriety--appropriated
the following verses by the younger Crebellon and went to the
Bastille rather than disown them.
"All the world's upside down!
Jupiter has donned the gown--the King.
Venus mounts the council stair--the Pompadour.
Plutus trifles with the fair--M. de Boulogne.
Mercury in mail is drest--Marechal de Richelieu.
Mighty Mars has turned a priest--the Duc de Clermont, abbe of
St. Germain-des-pres."
Crebillon, who was not the sort of man to conceal his writings, told
the Duc de Choiseul that he had written some verses exactly like
these, but that it was possible the prisoner had been inspired with
precisely the same ideas. This jest was applauded, and the author of
"The Sofa" was let alone.
Cardinal de Bernis passed ten years in exile, 'procul negotiis', but
he was not happy, as he told me himself when I knew him in Rome
fifteen years afterwards. It is said that it is better to be a
minister than a king--an, opinion which seems ridiculous when it is
analyzed. The question is, which is the better, independence or its
contrary. The axiom may possibly be verified in a despotic
government under an absurd, weak, or careless king who serves as a
mere mask for his master the minister; but in all other cases it is
an absurdity.
Cardinal de Bernis was never recalled; there is no instance of Louis
XV. having ever recalled a minister whom he had disgraced; but on the
death of Rezzonico he had to go to Rome to be present at the
conclave, and there he remained as French ambassador.
About this time Madame d'Urfe conceived a wish to make the
acquaintance of J. J. Rousseau, and we went to call upon him at
Montmorenci, on the pretext of giving him music to copy--an
occupation in which he was very skilled. He was paid twice the sum
given to any other copyist, but he guaranteed that the work should be
faultlessly done. At that period of his life copying music was the
great writer's sole means of subsistence.
We found him to be a man of a simple and modest demeanour, who talked
well, but who was not otherwise distinguished either intellectually
or physically. We did not think him what would be called a good-
natured man, and as he was far from having the manners of good
society Madame d'Urfe did not hesitate to pronounce him vulgar. We
saw the woman with whom he lived, and of whom we had heard, but she
scarcely looked at us. On our way home we amused ourselves by
talking about Rousseau's eccentric habits.
I will here note down the visit of the Prince of Conti (father of the
gentleman who is now known as the Comte de la March) to Rousseau.
The prince--a good-natured man-went by himself to Montmorenci, on
purpose to spend a day in conversation with the philosopher, who was
even then famous. He found him in the park, accosted him, and said
that he had come to dine with him and to talk without restraint.
"Your highness will fare but badly," said Rousseau: "however, I will
tell them to lay another knife and fork."
The philosopher gave his instructions, and came out and rejoined the
prince, with whom he walked up and down for two or three hours. When
it was dinner-time he took the prince into his dining-room, where the
table was laid for three.
"Who is going to dine with us?" said the prince. "I thought we were
to be alone."
"The third party," said Rousseau, "is my other self--a being who is
neither my wife, nor my mistress, nor my servant-maid, nor my mother,
nor my daughter, but yet personates all these characters at once."
"I daresay, my dear fellow, I daresay; but as I came to dine with you
alone, I will not dine with your--other self, but will leave you with
all the rest of you to keep your company."
So saying the prince bade him farewell and went out. Rousseau did
not try to keep him.
About this time I witnessed the failure of a play called 'Aristides'
Daughter', written by the ingenious Madame de Graffini, who died of
vexation five days after her play was damned. The Abbe de Voisenon
was horrified, as he had advised the lady to produce it, and was
thought to have had some hand in its composition, as well as in that
of the 'Lettres Peruviennes' and 'Cenie'. By a curious coincidence,
just about the same date, Rezzonico's mother died of joy because her
son had become pope. Grief and joy kill many more women than men,
which proves that if women have mere feeling than men they have also
less strength.
When Madame d'Urfe thought that my adopted son was comfortably
settled in Viar's house, she made me go with her and pay him a visit.
I found him lodged like a prince, well dressed, made much of, and
almost looked up to. I was astonished, for this was more than I had
bargained for. Madame d'Urfe had given him masters of all sorts, and
a pretty little pony for him to learn riding on. He was styled M.
le Comte d'Aranda. A girl of sixteen, Viar's daughter, a fine-
looking young woman, was appointed to look after him, and she was
quite proud to call herself my lord's governess. She assured Madame
d'Urfe that she took special care of him; that as soon as he woke she
brought him his breakfast in bed; that she then dressed him, and did
not leave his side the whole day. Madame d'Urfe approved of
everything, told the girl to take even greater care of the count, and
promised that she should not go unrewarded. As for the young
gentleman, he was evidently quite happy, as he told me himself again
and again, but I suspected a mystery somewhere, and determined that I
would go and see him by myself another time and solve it.
On our journey home I told Madame d'Urfe how grateful I was for all
her goodness to the boy, and that I approved of all the arrangements
that had been made with the exception of the name Aranda, "which,"
said I, "may some day prove a thorn in his side." She answered that
the lad had said enough to convince her that he had a right to bear
that name. "I had," she said, "in my desk a seal with the arms of
the house of Aranda, and happening to take it up I shewed it him as
we shew trinkets to children to amuse them, but as soon as he saw it
he burst out,
"'How came you to have my arms?'
"Your arms!" I answered. "I got this seal from the Comte d'Aranda;
how can you prove that you are a scion of that race?"
"'Do not ask me, madam; my birth is a secret I can reveal to no
one.'"
The imposition and above all the impudence of the young knave
astounded me. I should not have thought him capable of it, and a
week after I went to see him by myself to get at the bottom of all
this mystery.
I found my young count with Viar, who, judging by the awe the child
shewed of me, must have thought he belonged to me. He was unsparing
in his praises of his pupil, saying that he played the flute
capitally, danced and fenced admirably, rode well, and wrote a good
hand. He shewed me the pens he had cut himself with three, five, and
even nine points, and begged to be examined on heraldry, which, as
the master observed, was so necessary a science for a young nobleman.
The young gentleman then commenced in the jargon of heraldry to
blazon his own pretended arms, and I felt much inclined to burst into
laughter, partly because I did not understand a word he said, and
partly because he seemed to think the matter as important as would a
country squire with his thirty-two quarters. However, I was
delighted to see his dexterity in penmanship, which was undoubtedly
very great, and I expressed my satisfaction to Viar, who soon left us
to ourselves. We proceeded into the garden.
"Will you kindly inform me," I said, "how you can be so foolish as to
call yourself the Comte d'Aranda?"
He replied, with the utmost calmness, "I know it is foolish, but
leave me my title; it is of service to me here and gains me respect."
"It is an imposition I cannot wink at, as it may be fraught with
serious results, and may do harm to both of us. I should not have
thought that at your age you would be capable of such a knavish
trick. I know you did it out of stupidity, but after a certain limit
stupidity becomes criminal; and I cannot see how I am to remedy your
fault without disgracing you in the eyes of Madame d'Urfe."
I kept on scolding him till he burst into tears, saying,
"I had rather the shame of being sent back to my mother than the
shame of confessing to Madame d'Urfe that I had imposed on her; and I
could not bear to stay here if I had to give up my name."
Seeing that I could do nothing with him, unless, indeed, I sent him
to some place far removed from Paris under his proper name, I told
him to take comfort as I would try and do the best I could for both
of us.
"And now tell me--and take care to tell the truth--what sort of
feelings does Viar's daughter entertain for you?"
"I think, papa, that this is a case in which the reserve commended by
yourself, as well as by mother, would be appropriate."
"Yes, that sort of answer tells me a good deal, but I think you are
rather too knowing for your age. And you may as well observe that
when you are called upon for a confession, reserve is out of place,
and it's a confession I require from you."
"Well, papa, Viar's daughter is very fond of me, and she shews her
love in all sorts of ways."
"And do you love her?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Is she much with you in the morning?"
"She is with me the whole day."
"She is present when you go to bed?"
"Yes, she helps me to undress."
"Nothing else?"
"I do not care to tell you."
I was astonished at the measured way in which he answered me, and as
I had heard enough to guess that the boy and girl were very good
friends indeed, I contented myself with warning him to take care of
his health, and with this I left him.
Some time after, my thoughts were occupied with a business
speculation which all my calculations assured me would be extremely
profitable. The plan was to produce on silks, by means of printing,
the exquisite designs which are produced at Lyons by the tedious
process of weaving, and thus to give customers excellent value at
much lower prices. I had the requisite knowledge of chemistry, and
enough capital to make the thing a success. I obtained the
assistance of a man with the necessary technical skill and knowledge,
intending to make him my manager.
I told my plan to the Prince de Conti, who encouraged me to
persevere, promising me his patronage, and all the privileges I could
wish for. That decided me to begin.
I rented a very large house near the Temple for a thousand crowns per
annum. The house contained a spacious hall, in which I meant to put
my workmen; another hall which was to be the shop; numerous rooms for
my workpeople to live in; and a nice room for myself in case I cared
to live on the premises.
I made the scheme into a company with thirty shares, of which I gave
five to my designer, keeping the remaining twenty-five to distribute
to those who were inclined to join the company. I gave one to a
doctor who, on giving surety, became the storekeeper, and came to
live in the house with his whole family; and I engaged four servants,
a waiting-maid, and a porter. I had to give another share to an
accountant, who furnished me with two clerks, who also took up their
abode in the house. The carpenters, blacksmiths, and painters worked
hard from morning to night, and in less than three weeks the place
was ready. I told the manager to engage twenty girls to paint, who
were to be paid every Saturday. I stocked the warehouse with three
hundred pieces of sarcenet and camlet of different shades and colours
to receive the designs, and I paid for everything in ready money.
I had made an approximate calculation with my manager that I should
have to spend three hundred thousand francs, and that would not break
me. If the worst happened I could fall back on my shares, which
produced a good income, but I hoped I should not be compelled to do
so, as I wanted to have an income of two hundred thousand francs a
year.
All the while I did not conceal from myself that the speculation
might be my ruin, if custom did not come in, but on looking at my
beautiful materials these fears were dispelled, especially as I heard
everybody saying that I sold them much too cheap.
To set up the business I spent in the course of a month about sixty
thousand francs, and my weekly expenses amounted to twelve hundred
francs.
As for Madame d'Urfe she laughed every time she saw me, for she was
quite certain that this business was only meant to put the curious
off the scent and to preserve my incognito: so persuaded was she of
my omnipotence.
The sight of twenty girls, all more or less pretty, the eldest of
whom was not twenty-five, far from making me tremble as it ought,
delighted me. I fancied myself in the midst of a seraglio, and I
amused myself by watching their meek and modest looks as they did
their work under the direction of the foreman. The best paid did not
get more than twenty-four sous a day, and all of them had excellent
reputations, for they had been selected at her own request by the
manager's wife, a devout woman of ripe age, whom I hoped to find
obliging if the fancy seized me to test her choice. Manon Baletti
did not share my satisfaction in them. She trembled to see me the
owner of a harem, well knowing that sooner or later the barque of my
virtue would run on the rocks. She scolded me well about these
girls, though I assured her that none of them slept in the house.
This business increased my own ideas of my importance; partly from
the thought that I was on the high road to fortune, and partly
because I furnished so many people with the means of subsistence.
Alas! I was too fortunate; and my evil genius soon crossed my career.
It was now three months since Mdlle. X. C. V. had gone into the
convent, and the time of her delivery drew near. We wrote to each
other twice a week, and I considered the matter happily settled; M.
de la Popeliniere had married, and when Mdlle. X. C. V. returned to
her mother there would be nothing more to be said But just at this
period, when my happiness seemed assured, the hidden fire leapt forth
and threatened to consume me; how, the reader will see.
One day after leaving Madame d'Urfe's I went to walk in the
Tuileries. I had taken a couple of turns in the chief walk when I
saw that an old woman, accompanied by a man dressed in black, was
looking at me closely and communicating her observations to her
companion. There was nothing very astonishing in this in a public
place, and I continued my walk, and on turning again saw the same
couple still watching me. In my turn I looked at them, and
remembered seeing the man in a gaming-house, where he was known by
the name of Castel-Bajac. On scrutinizing the features of the hag, I
at last succeeded in recollecting who she was; she was the woman to
whom I had taken Mdlle. X. C. V. I felt certain that she had
recognized me, but not troubling myself about the matter I left the
gardens to walk elsewhere. The day after next, just as I was going
to get into my carriage, a man of evil aspect gave me a paper and
asked me to read it. I opened it, but finding it covered with an
illegible scrawl I gave it him back, telling him to read it himself.
He did so, and I found myself summoned to appear before the
commissary of police to answer to the plea which the midwife (whose
name I forget) brought against me.
Although I could guess what the charge would be, and was certain that
the midwife could furnish no proofs of her accusation, I went to an
attorney I knew and told him to appear for me. I instructed him that
I did not know any midwife in Paris whatsoever. The attorney waited
on the commissary, and on the day after brought me a copy of the
pleas.
The midwife said that I came to her one night, accompanied by a young
lady about five months with child, and that, holding a pistol in one
hand and a packet of fifty Louis in the other, I made her promise to
procure abortion. We both of us (so she said) had masks on, thus.
shewing that we had been at the opera ball. Fear, said she, had
prevented her from flatly refusing to grant my request; but she had
enough presence of mind to say that the necessary drugs were not
ready, that she would have all in order by the next night; whereupon
we left, promising to return. In the belief that we would not fail
to keep the appointment, she went in to M. Castel-Bajac to ask him to
hide in the next room that she might be protected from my fury, and
that he might be a witness of what I said, but she had not seen me
again. She added that she would have given information the day after
the event if she had known who I was, but since M. Castel-Bajac had
told her my name on her recognizing me in the Tuileries, she had
thought it her bounden duty to deliver me to the law that she might
be compensated for the violence I had used to her. And this document
was signed by the said Castel-Bajac as a witness.
"This is an evident case of libel," said my attorney, "at least, if
she can't prove the truth of her allegations. My advice to you is to
take the matter before the criminal lieutenant, who will be able to
give you the satisfaction you require."
I authorized him to do what he thought advisable, and three or four
days after he told me that the lieutenant wished to speak to me in
private, and would expect me the same day at three o'clock in the
afternoon.
As will be expected, I was punctual to the appointment. I found the
magistrate to be a polite and good-hearted gentleman. He was, in
fact, the well-known M. de Sartine, who was the chief of police two
years later. His office of criminal lieutenant was saleable, and M.
de Sartine sold it when he was appointed head of the police.
As soon as I had made my bow, he asked me to sit down by him, and
addressed me as follows:
"I have asked you to call upon me in the interests of both of us, as
in your position our interests are inseparable. If you are innocent
of the charge which has been brought against you, you are quite right
to appeal to me; but before proceedings begin, you should tell me the
whole truth. I am ready to forget my position as judge, and to give
you my help, but you must see yourself that to prove the other side
guilty of slander, you must prove yourself innocent. What I want
from you is an informal and strictly confidential declaration, for
the case against you is a serious one, and of such a kind as to
require all your efforts to wipe off this blot upon your honour.
Your enemies will not respect your delicacy of feeling. They will
press you so hard that you will either be obliged to submit to a
shameful sentence, or to wound your feelings of honour in proving
your innocence. You see I am confiding in you, for in certain cases
honour seems so precious a thing to me that I am ready to defend it
with all the power of the law. Pay me back, then, in the same coin,
trust in me entirely, tell me the whole story without any reserves,
and you may rely upon my good offices. All will be well if you are
innocent, for I shall not be the less a judge because I am your
friend; but if you are guilty I am sorry for you, for I warn you that
I shall be just."
After doing my best to express my gratitude to him, I said that my
position did not oblige me to make any reservations on account of
honour, and that I had, consequently, no informal statement to make
him.
"The midwife," I added, "is absolutely unknown to me. She is most
likely an abandoned woman, who with her worthy companion wants to
cheat me of my money."
"I should be delighted to think so," he answered, "but admitting the
fact, see how chance favours her, and makes it a most difficult thing
for you to prove your innocence.
"The young lady disappeared three months ago. She was known to be
your intimate friend, you called upon her at all hours; you spent a
considerable time with her the day before she disappeared, and no one
knows what has become of her; but everyone's suspicions point at you,
and paid spies are continually dogging your steps. The midwife sent
me a requisition yesterday by her counsel, Vauversin. She says that
the pregnant lady you brought to her house is the same whom Madame X.
C. V. is searching for. She also says that you both wore black
dominoes, and the police have ascertained that you were both at the
ball in black dominoes on the same night as that on which the midwife
says you came to her house; you are also known to have left the ball-
room together. All this, it is true, does not constitute full proof
of your guilt, but it makes one tremble for your innocence."
"What cause have I to tremble?"
"What cause! Why a false witness, easily enough hired for a little
money, might swear with impunity that he saw you come from the opera
together; and a coachman in the same way might swear he had taken you
to the midwife's. In that case I should be compelled to order your
arrest and examination, with a view to ascertain the name of the
person whom you took with you. Do you realize that you are accused
of procuring abortion; that three months have gone by without the
lady's retreat having been discovered; that she is said to be dead.
Do you realize, in short, what a very serious charge murder is?"
"Certainly; but if I die innocent, you will have condemned me
wrongly, and will be more to be pitied than I."
"Yes, yes, but that wouldn't make your case any better. You may be
sure, however, that I will not condemn an innocent man; but I am
afraid that you will be a long time in prison before you succeed in
proving your innocence. To be brief, you see that in twenty-four
hours the case looks very bad, and in the course of a week it might
look very much worse. My interest was aroused in your favour by the
evident absurdity of the accusations, but it is the other
circumstances about the case which make it a serious one for you. I
can partly understand the circumstances, and the feelings of love and
honour which bid you be silent. I have spoken to you, and I hope you
will have no reserves with me. I will spare you all the unpleasant
circumstances which threaten you, believing, as I do, that you are
innocent. Tell me all, and be sure that the lady's honour will not
suffer; but if, on the other hand, you are unfortunately guilty of
the crimes laid to your charge, I advise you to be prudent, and to
take steps which it is not my business to suggest. I warn you that
in three or four days I shall cite you to the bar of the court, and
that you will then find in me only the judge--just, certainly, but
severe and impartial."
I was petrified; for these words shewed me my danger in all its
nakedness. I saw how I should esteem this worthy man's good offices,
and said to him in quite another tone, that innocent as I was, I saw
that my best course was to throw myself on his kindness respecting
Mdlle. X. C. V., who had committed no crime, but would lose her
reputation by this unhappy business.
"I know where she is," I added, "and I may tell you that she would
never have left her mother if she had not endeavoured to force her
into a marriage she abhorred"
"Well, but the man is now married; let her return to her mother's
house, and you will be safe, unless the midwife persists in
maintaining that you incited her to procure abortion."
"There is no abortion in the matter; but other reasons prevent her
returning to her family. I can tell you no more without obtaining
the consent of another party. If I succeed in doing so I shall be
able to throw the desired light on the question. Be kind enough to
give me a second hearing on the day after to-morrow."
"I understand. I shall be delighted to hear what you have to say.
I thank and congratulate you. Farewell!"
I was on the brink of the precipice, but I was determined to leave
the kingdom rather than betray the honour of my poor dear sweetheart.
If it had been possible, I would gladly have put an end to the case
with money; but it was too late. I was sure that Farsetti had the
chief hand in all this trouble, that he was continually on my track,
and that he paid the spies mentioned by M. de Sartine. He it was who
had set Vauversin, the barrister, after me, and I had no doubt that
he would do all in his power to ruin me.
I felt that my only course was to tell the whole story to M. de
Sartine, but to do that I required Madame du Rumain's permission.
CHAPTER IX
My Examination I Give the Clerk Three Hundred Louis--The Midwife and
Cartel-Bajac Imprisoned--Mdlle. X. C. V. Is Brought to Bed of a Son
and Obliges Her Mother to Make Me Amends--The Suit Against Me Is
Quashed--Mdlle. X. C. V. Goes With Her Mother to Brussels and From
Thence to Venice, Where She Becomes a Great Lady--My Work-girls--
Madame Baret--I Am Robbed, Put in Prison, and Set at Liberty Again--
I Go to Holland--Helvetius' "Esprit"--Piccolomini
The day after my interview with M. de Sartine I waited on Madame du
Rumain at an early hour. Considering the urgency of the case I took
the liberty of rousing her from her slumbers, and as soon as she was
ready to receive me I told her all.
"There can be no hesitation in the matter," said this delightful
woman. "We must make a confidant of M. de Sartine, and I will speak
to him myself to-day without fail."
Forthwith she went to her desk and wrote to the criminal lieutenant
asking him to see her at three o'clock in the afternoon. In less
than an hour the servant returned with a note in which he said he
would expect her. We agreed that I should come again in the evening,
when she would tell me the result of her interview.
I went to the house at five o'clock, and had only a few minutes to
wait.
"I have concealed nothing," said she; "he knows that she is on the
eve of her confinement, and that you are not the father, which speaks
highly for your generosity. I told him that as soon as the
confinement was over, and the young lady had recovered her health,
she would return to her mother, though she would make no confession,
and that the child should be well looked after. You have now nothing
to fear, and can calm yourself; but as the case must go on you will
be cited before the court the day after to-morrow. I advise you to
see the clerk of the court on some pretext or other, and to make him
accept a sum of money."
I was summoned to appear, and I appeared. I saw M. de Sartine,
'sedentem pro tribunali'. At the end of the sitting he told me that
he was obliged to remand me, and that during my remand I must not
leave Paris or get married, as all my civil rights were in suspense
pending the decision. I promised to follow his commands.
I acknowledged in my examination that I was at the ball in a black
domino on the night named in my accusation, but I denied everything
else. As for Mdlle. X. C. V., I said that neither I nor anyone of
her family had any suspicion that she was with child.
Recollecting that I was an alien, and that this circumstance might
make Vauversin call for my arrest, on the plea that I might fly the
kingdom, I thought the moment opportune for making interest with the
clerk of the court, and I accordingly paid him a visit. After
telling him of my fears, I slipped into his hand a packet of three
hundred louis, for which I did not ask for a receipt, saying that
they were to defray expenses if I were mulcted in costs. He advised
me to require the midwife to give bail for her appearance, and I told
my attorney to do so; but, four days after, the following incident
took place:
I was walking in the Temple Gardens, when I was accosted by a
Savoyard, who gave me a note in which I was informed that somebody in
an alley, fifty paces off, wanted to speak to me. "Either a love
affair or a challenge," I said to myself, "let's see." I stopped my
carriage, which was following me, and went to the place.
I cannot say how surprised I was to see the wretched Cartel-Bajac
standing before me. "I have only a word to say," said he, when he
saw me. "We will not be overheard here. The midwife is quite sure
that you are the man who brought a pregnant lady to her, but she is
vexed that you are accused of making away with her. Give her a
hundred louis; she will then declare to the court that she has been
mistaken, and your trouble will be ended. You need not pay the money
till she has made her declaration; we will take your word for it.
Come with me and talk it over with Vauversin. I am sure he will
persuade you to do as I suggest. I know where to find him, follow me
at some distance."
I had listened to him in silence, and I was delighted to see that the
rascals were betraying themselves. "Very good," said I to the
fellow, "you go on, and I will follow." I went after him to the
third floor of a house in the Rue aux Ours, where I found Vauversin
the barrister. No sooner had I arrived than he went to business
without any prefatory remarks.
"The midwife," he said, "will call on you with a witness apparently
with the intention of maintaining to your face that you are her man;
but she won't be able to recognize you. She will then proceed with
the witness to the court, and will declare that she has made a
mistake, and the criminal lieutenant will forthwith put an end to the
proceedings. You will thus be certain of gaining your case against
the lady's mother."
I thought the plan well conceived, and said that they would find me
at the Temple any day up to noon.
"But the midwife wants a hundred louis badly."
"You mean that the worthy woman rates her perjury at that price.
Well, never mind, I will pay the money, and you may trust to my word;
but I can't do so before she has taken oath to her mistake before the
court."
"Very good, but you must first give me twenty-five louis to reimburse
me for my costs and fees."
"Certainly, if you will give me a formal receipt for the money."
He hesitated at first, but after talking it over the money proved too
strong a bait, and he wrote out the receipt and I gave him the
twenty-five louis. He thanked me, and said that though Madame X. C.
V. was his client, he would let me know confidentially how best to
put a stop to the proceedings. I thanked him with as much gratitude
as if I had really intended to make use of his services, and I left
to write and tell M. de Sartine what had taken place.
Three days afterwards I was told that a man and woman wanted to see
me. I went down and asked the woman what she wanted.
"I want to speak to M. Casanova."
"I am he."
"Then I have made a mistake, for which I hope you will forgive me."
Her companion smiled, and they went off.
The same day Madame du Rumain had a letter from the abbess telling
her that her young friend had given birth to a fine boy, who had been
sent away to a place where he would be well looked after. She stated
that the young lady could not leave the convent for the next six
weeks, at the end of which time she could return to her mother with a
certificate which would protect her from all annoyance.
Soon after the midwife was put in solitary confinement, Castel-Bajac
was sent to The Bicetre, and Vauversin's name was struck off the
rolls. The suit instituted against me by Madame X. C. V. went on
till her daughter reappeared, but I knew that I had nothing to fear.
The girl returned to her mother about the end of August armed with a
certificate from the abbess, who said she had been under her
protection for four months, during which time she had never left the
convent or seen any persons from outside. This was perfectly true,
but the abbess added that her only reason for her going back to her
family was that she had nothing more to dread from the attentions of
M. de la Popeliniere, and in this the abbess lied.
Mdlle. X. C. V. profited by the delight of her mother in seeing her
again safe and sound, and made her wait on M. de Sartine with the
abbess's certificate, stop all proceedings against me, and withdraw
all the charges she had made. Her daughter told her that if I liked
I might claim damages for libel, and that if she did not wish to
injure her reputation she would say nothing more about what had
happened.
The mother wrote me a letter of the most satisfactory character,
which I had registered in court, thus putting an end to the
prosecution. In my turn I wrote to congratulate her on the recovery
of her daughter, but I never set foot in her house again, to avoid
any disagreeable scenes with Farsetti.
Mdlle. X. C. V. could not stay any longer in Paris, where her tale
was known to everyone, and Farsetti took her to Brussels with her
sister Madelaine. Some time after, her mother followed her, and they
then went on to Venice, and there in three years' time she became a
great lady. Fifteen years afterwards I saw her again, and she was a
widow, happy enough apparently, and enjoying a great reputation on
account of her rank, wit, and social qualities, but our connection
was never renewed.
In four years the reader will hear more of Castel-Bajac. Towards the
end of the same year (1759), before I went to Holland, I spent
several hundred francs to obtain the release of the midwife.
I lived like a prince, and men might have thought me happy, but I was
not. The enormous expenses I incurred, my love of spending money,
and magnificent pleasures, warned me, in spite of myself, that there
were rocks ahead. My business would have kept me going for a long
time, if custom had not been paralyzed by the war; but as it was, I,
like everybody else, experienced the effect of bad times. My
warehouse contained four hundred pieces of stuffs with designs on
them, but as I could not hope to dispose of them before the peace,
and as peace seemed a long way off, I was threatened with ruin.
With this fear I wrote to Esther to get her father to give me the
remainder of my money, to send me a sharp clerk, and to join in my
speculation. M. d'O---- said that if I would set up in Holland he
would become responsible for everything and give me half profits, but
I liked Paris too well to agree to so good an offer. I was sorry for
it afterwards.
I spent a good deal of money at my private house, but the chief
expense of my life, which was unknown to others but which was ruining
me, was incurred in connection with the girls who worked in my
establishment. With my complexion and my pronounced liking for
variety, a score of girls, nearly all of them pretty and seductive,
as most Paris girls are, was a reef on which my virtue made shipwreck
every day. Curiosity had a good deal to do with it, and they
profited by my impatience to take possession by selling their favours
dearly. They all followed the example of the first favourite, and
everyone claimed in turn an establishment, furniture, money, and
jewels; and I knew too little of the value of money to care how much
they asked. My fancy never lasted longer than a week, and often
waned in three or four days, and the last comer always appeared the
most worthy of my attentions.
As soon as I had made a new choice I saw no more of my old loves, but
I continued to provide for them, and that with a good deal of money.
Madame d'Urfe, who thought I was rich, gave me no trouble. I made
her happy by using my oracle to second the magical ceremonies of
which she grew fonder every day, although she never attained her aim.
Manon Baletti, however, grieved me sorely by her jealousy and her
well-founded reproaches. She would not understand--and I did not
wonder at it--how I could put off marrying her if I really loved her.
She accused me of deceiving her. Her mother died of consumption in
our arms. Silvia had won my true friendship. I looked upon her as a
most worthy woman, whose kindness of heart and purity of life
deserved the esteem of all. I stayed in the family for three days
after her death, sincerely sympathizing with them in their
affliction.
A few days afterwards, my friend Tiretta lost his mistress through a
grievous illness. Four days before her death, perceiving that she
was near her end, she willed to consecrate to God that which man
could have no longer, and dismissed her lover with the gift of a
valuable jewel and a purse of two hundred louis. Tiretta marched off
and came and told me the sad news. I got him a lodging near the
Temple, and a month after, approving his idea to try his fortune in
India, I gave him a letter of introduction to M. d'O----, of
Amsterdam; and in the course of a week this gentleman got him a post
as clerk, and shipped him aboard one of the company's ships which was
bound for Batavia. If he had behaved well he might have become a
rich man, but he got involved in some conspiracy and had to fly, and
afterwards experienced many vicissitudes of fortune. I heard from
one of his relations that he was in Bengal in 1788, in good
circumstances, but unable to realize his property and so return to
his native country. I do not know what became of him eventually.
In the beginning of November an official belonging to the Duc
d'Elbeuf's household came to my establishment to buy a wedding dress
for his daughter. I was dazzled with her beauty. She chose a fine
satin, and her pretty face lighted up when she heard her father say
he did not think it was too much; but she looked quite piteous when
she heard the clerk tell her father that he would have to buy the
whole piece, as they could not cut it. I felt that I must give in,
and to avoid making an exception in her favour I beat a hasty retreat
into my private room. I wish I had gone out of the house, as I
should have saved a good deal of money; but what pleasure should I
have also lost! In her despair the charming girl begged the manager
to take her to me, and he dared not refuse to do so. She came in;
two big tears falling down her cheeks and dimming the ardour of her
gaze.
"Oh, sir!" she began, "you are rich, do you buy the piece and let me
have enough for a dress, which will make me happy."
I looked at her father and saw he wore an apologetic air, as if
deprecating the boldness of his child.
"I like your simplicity," I said to her, "and since it will make you
happy, you shall have the dress."
She ran up to me, threw her arms round my neck and kissed me, while
her worthy father was dying with laughter. Her kisses put the last
stroke to my bewitchment. After he had paid for the dress, her
father said,
"I am going to get this little madcap married next Sunday; there will
be a supper and a ball, and we shall be delighted if you will honour
us with your presence. My name is Gilbert. I am comptroller of the
Duc d'Elbeuf's household."
I promised to be at the wedding, and the young lady gave a skip of
joy which made me think her prettier than ever.
On Sunday I repaired to the house, but I could neither eat nor drink.
The fair Mdlle. Gilbert kept me in a kind of enchantment which lasted
while I was in company with her friends, for whom I did not care.
They were all officials in noblemen's houses, with their wives and
daughters, who all aped the manners of their betters in the most
ridiculous way; nobody knew me and I was known to nobody, and I cut a
sorry figure amongst them all, for in a company of this sort the
wittiest man is the greatest fool. Everybody cracked his joke to the
bride, she answered everybody, and people laughed at nothing.
Her husband, a thin and melancholy man, with a rather foolish
expression, was delighted at his wife's keeping everybody amused.
Although I was in love with her, I pitied rather than envied him.
I guessed that he had married for monetary considerations, and I knew
pretty well what kind of a head-dress his handsome, fiery wife would
give her husband, who was plain-featured, and seemed not to be aware
of his wife's beauty. I was seized with the desire of asking her
some questions, and she gave me the opportunity by coming to sit next
to me after a quadrille. She thanked me again for my kindness, and
said that the beautiful dress I had supplied had won her many
compliments.
"All the same," I said, "I know you are longing to take it off. I
know what love is and how impatient it makes one."
"It's very funny that everyone persists in thinking that I am in
love, though I saw M. Baret for the first time only a week ago.
Before then I was absolutely unconscious of his existence."
"But why are you getting married in such a hurry without waiting till
you know him better?"
"Because my father does everything in a hurry."
"I suppose your husband is a very rich man?"
"No, but he may become rich. We are going to open a shop for silk
stockings at the corner of the Rue St. Honore and the Rue des
Prouveres, and I hope that you will deal with us, as we would serve
you with the best."
"I shall certainly do so--nay, I will be your first customer, if I
have to wait at the door."
"You are kind! M. Baret," said she to her husband, who was standing
close by, "this gentleman promises to be our first customer."
"The gentleman is very good," said the husband, "and I am sure he
will be satisfied, as my stockings are genuine silk."
Next Tuesday at day-break I began to dance attendance at the corner
of the Rue des Prouveres, and waited there till the servant came out
to take down the shutters. I went in and the girl asked me my
business.
"I want to buy some stockings," was my answer.
"Master and mistress are still in bed, so you had better come later
on."
"No, I will wait here. Stop a minute," said I, giving her six
francs, "go and get me some coffee; I will drink it in the shop."
"I might go and get you some coffee, but I am not so silly as to
leave you in the shop by yourself."
"You are afraid I might steal something!"
"Well, one does hear of such things being done, and I don't know you
from Adam."
"Very good; but I shall stay here all the same."
Before long Baret came down and scolded the poor girl for not having
told him of my presence. "Go and tell my wife to come," said he, as
he began opening packets of stockings for me to choose from. He kept
stockings, vests, and silk drawers, and I turned one packet over
after another, looking at them all and not fixing on anything till I
saw his wife coming down as fresh as a rose and as bright as a lily.
She smiled at me in the most seductive manner, apologized for the
disorder of her dress, and thanked me for keeping my word.
"I never break my word," I said, "especially when such a charming
lady is concerned!"
Madame Baret was seventeen, of a moderate height, and an exquisite
figure; without being classically beautiful, a Raphael could not wish
to depict a more enticing face. Her eyes were large and brilliant.
Her drooping eyelids, which gave her so modest and yet so voluptuous
an appearance, the ever-smiling mouth, her splendid teeth, the
dazzling whiteness of her complexion, the pleasing air with which she
listened to what was being said, her silvery voice, the sweetness and
sparkling vivacity of her manner, her lack of conceit, or rather her
unconsciousness of the power of her charms-in fine, everything about
this masterpiece of nature made me wonder and admire; while she, by
chance or vile monetary considerations, was in the power of Baret,
who, pale and sickly, thought a good deal more of his stockings than
of the treasure marriage had given him--a treasure of which he was
all unworthy, since he could not see its beauty nor taste its
sweetness.
I chose stockings and vests to the amount of twenty-five louis, and I
paid the price without trying to cheapen them. I saw the face of the
fair shopwoman light up, and I augured well for my success, though I
could not expect to do much while the honeymoon lasted. I told the
servant that I would give her six francs if she would bring the
packet to my house, and so I left them.
Next Sunday Baret came himself with my purchases. I gave him six
francs to hand over to his servant, but he hinted that he was not too
proud to keep them himself. I was disgusted at this petty greed, and
at his meanness in depriving his maid of the six francs after having
made a good profit in what he had sold me; but I wanted to stand well
with him, and I was not sorry to find so simple a way of throwing
dust into his eyes. So while I resolved that the servant should not
be a loser I gave the husband a good reception that I might the
better mould him to my purpose. I had breakfast brought to him,
asking why he had not brought his wife.
"She wanted me to take her," said he, "but I was afraid you might be
offended."
"Not at all, I should have been delighted. I think your wife a
charming woman."
"You are very kind to say so; but she's young, she's young."
"I don't think that's any objection; and if she cares for the walk,
bring her with you another time." He said he should be very pleased
to do so.
When I passed by the shop in my carriage I blew kisses to her with my
hand, but I did not stop as I did not want any more stockings.
Indeed, I should have been bored with the crowd of fops with which
the shop was always full. She began to be a topic of conversation in
the town; the Palais Royal was full of her; and I was glad to hear
that she kept to herself as if she had richer prey in view. That
told me that no one possessed her so far, and I hoped that I might be
the prey myself; I was quite willing to be captured.
Some days after, she saw my carriage coming, and beckoned to me as I
passed. I got out, and her husband with many apologies told me that
he wanted me to be the first to see a new fashion in breeches he had
just got in. The breeches were parti-coloured, and no man of fashion
would be seen without them. They were odd-looking things, but became
a well-made young man. As they had to fit exactly, I told him to
measure me for six pairs, offering to pay in advance. "We have them
in all sizes," said he, "go up to my wife's room and try some on."
It was a good opportunity and I accepted, especially when I heard him
tell his wife to go and help me. I went upstairs, she following, and
I began to undress, apologizing for doing so before her.
"I will fancy I am your valet," said she, "and I will help you."
I did not make any difficulties, and after taking off my shoes I gave
her my breeches, taking care, however, to keep on my drawers, lest
her modesty should receive too severe a shock. This done she took a
pair of breeches, drew them on me, took them off, and tried on
others, and all this without any impropriety on either side; for I
had determined to behave with discretion till the opportunity came to
be indiscreet. She decided that four pairs fitted me admirably, and,
not wishing to contradict her, I gave her the sixteen louis she
asked, and told her I should be delighted if she would bring them
herself at any time when she was at leisure. She came downstairs
quite proud of her knowledge of business, and Baret said that next
Sunday he and his wife would have the honour of bringing me my
purchase.
"I shall be charmed, M. Baret," said I, "especially if you will stay
to dinner."
He answered that having an important engagement for two o'clock he
could only accept on the condition that I would let him go at that
time, and he would return at about five to fetch his wife. I found
the plan vastly to my taste, but I knew how to conceal my joy; and I
quietly said that though I should lose the pleasure of his society,
he was free to go when he liked, especially as I had not to go out
myself before six.
I looked forward to the Sunday, and the tradesman and his wife did
not fail me. As soon as they arrived, I told my servant to say "Not
at home" for the rest of the day, and as I was impatient to know what
would happen in the afternoon I had dinner served at an early hour.
The dishes were exquisite, and the wines delicious. The good man ate
much and drank deeply, indeed to such an extent that in common
politeness I was obliged to remind him that he had an important
appointment at two. His wits being sharpened with champagne, the
happy thought occurred to him to tell his wife to go home by herself,
if he were kept later than five; and I hastened to add that I would
take her home myself in my carriage. He thanked me, and I soothed
his uneasiness about being punctual to his appointment by telling him
that a coach was waiting, and that the fare had been paid. He went
off, and I found myself alone with my jewel, whom I was certain of
possessing till six o'clock.
As soon as I heard the hall door shut on the kind husband, I said to
his wife,
"You are to be congratulated on having such a kind husband; with a
man like that your happiness is assured."
"It is easy to say happiness, but enjoying it is a different thing.
My husband's health is so delicate that I can only consider myself as
his nurse; and then he contracted heavy debts to set up in business
which oblige us to observe the strictest economy. We came here on
foot to save the twenty-four sons. We could live on the profits of
the business, if there were no debts, but as it is everything goes to
pay the interest, and our sales are not large enough to cover
everything."
"But you have plenty of customers, for whenever I pass I see the shop
full of people."
"These customers you see are idlers, crackers of bad jokes, and
profligates, who come and make my head ache with their jests. They
have not a penny to bless themselves with, and we dare not let them
out of our sight for fear of their hands wandering. If we had cared
to give them credit, our shop would have been emptied long ago. I am
rude to them, in the hopes that they may leave me alone, but it's of
no use. Their impudence is astonishing. When my husband is in I
retreat to my room, but he is often away, and then I am obliged to
put up with them. And the scarcity of money prevents us from doing
much business, but we are obliged to pay our workmen all the same.
As far as I can see, we shall be obliged to dismiss them, as we shall
soon have to meet several bills. Next Saturday we have got to pay
six hundred francs, and we have only got two hundred."
"I am surprised at your having all this worry in these early days of
your marriage. I suppose your father knew about your husband's
circumstances; how about your dowry?"
"My dowry of six thousand francs has served, most of it, to stock the
shop and to pay our debts. We have goods which would pay our debts
three times over; but in bad times capital sunk is capital dead."
"I am sorry to hear all this, as if peace is not made your situation
will become worse, for as you go on your needs will become greater."
"Yes, for when my husband is better we may have children."
"What! Do you mean to say his health prevents him from making you a
mother? I can't believe it."
"I don't see how I can be a mother who am still a maid; not that I
care much about the matter."
"I shouldn't have believed it! How can a man not in the agony of
death feel ill beside you? He must be dead."
"Well, he is not exactly dead, but he doesn't shew many signs of
life."
This piece of wit made me laugh, and under cover of my applause I
embraced her without experiencing much resistance. The first kiss
was like an electric spark; it fired my imagination and I increased
my attentions till she became as submissive as a lamb.
"I will help you, dearest, to meet the bill on Saturday;" and so
saying I drew her gently into a closet where a soft divan formed a
suitable altar for the completion of an amorous sacrifice.
I was enchanted to find her submissive to my caresses and my
inquisitiveness, but she surprised me greatly when, as I placed
myself in readiness for the consummation of the act, and was already
in the proper posture between the two columns, she moved in such a
way as to hinder my advance. I thought at first that it was only one
of those devices intended to make the final victory more sweet by
putting difficulties in the way; but, finding that her resistance was
genuine, I exclaimed,
"How was I to expect a refusal like this at a moment when I thought I
saw my ardours reflected in your eyes?"
"Your eyes did not deceive you; but what would my husband say if he
found me otherwise than as God has made me?"
"He can't have left you untouched!"
"He really has done so. You can see for yourself if you like. Can
I, then, give to you what appertains to the genius of the marriage-
bed."
"You are right, my angel; this fruit must be kept for a mouth
unworthy to taste it. I pity and adore you. Come to my arms,
abandon yourself to my love, and fear nothing. The fruit shall not
be damaged; I will but taste the outer surface and leave no trace
behind."
We passed three hours in trifling together in a manner calculated to
inflame our passions despite the libations which we now and again
poured forth. I was consoled by her swearing to be mine as soon as
Baret had good grounds for thinking that she was his, and, after
taking her on the Boulevards, I left her at her door, with a present
of twenty-five Louis.
I was in love with her as I had never been before, and I passed the
shop three or four times a day, going round and round, to the wrath
of my coachman, who got sick of telling me that I was ruining my
horses. I was happy to see her watch for the moment that I passed,
and waft me a kiss by putting her pretty fingers to her mouth.
We had agreed that she should not make me a sign to leave my coach
till her husband had forced a passage. At last this day, so ardently
desired and so long waited for, arrived. The sign was given, and I
stopped the coach and she came out and, standing on the step, told me
to go and wait for her at the church door of St. Germain l'Auxerrois.
I was curious to know what the results would be, and had not been at
the place appointed more than a quarter of an hour when she came
towards me, her head muffled in a hood. She got into the carriage
and, saying that she wanted to make some purchases, begged me to take
her to the shops.
I had business of my own, and pressing business too, but who can
refuse the Beloved Object anything? I told the coachman to drive to
the Place Dauphine, and I prepared to loosen my purse-strings, as I
had a feeling she was going to treat me as a friend. In point of
fact she left few shops unvisited, going from jewels to pretty
trifles and toys of different kinds, and from these to dresses of the
latest fashion, which they displayed before her, addressing her as
princess, and saying that this would become her admirably. She
looked at me, and said it must be confessed that it was very pretty
and that she would like it if it were not so dear. I was a willing
dupe, and assured her that if she liked it it could not be too dear,
and that I would pay.
While my sweetheart was thus choosing one trifle after another my
ill-luck brought about an incident which placed me in a fearful
situation four years afterwards. The chain of events is endless.
I perceived at my left hand a pretty girl of twelve or thirteen, with
an old and ugly woman who was disparaging a pair of ear-rings which
the girl had in her hands, and on which she had evidently set her
heart: she looked sad at not being able to buy them. I heard her say
to the old woman that they would make her happy, but she snatched
them from the girl's hands and told her to, come away.
"I can let you have a cheaper pair and almost as fine," said the
shopwoman, but the young lady said she did not; care about it, and
was getting ready to go, making a profound reverence to my princess
Baret.
She, no doubt flattered by this sign of respect went up to her,
called her little queen, told her she was as fair as a May morning,
and asked the old woman her name,
"She is Mdlle. de Boulainvilier, my niece."
"How can you be so hard-hearted," said I to the aunt, "as to refuse
your charming niece a toy which would make her happy? Allow me to
make her a present of them."
So saying I put the ear-rings in the girl's hands, while she blushed
and looked at her aunt as if to ask her permission.
"You may have the ear-rings," said she, "as this gentleman has been
kind enough to give you such a present, and you should give him a
kiss by way of thanks."
"The ear-rings," said the shopwoman, "will be only three louis."
Hereupon the affair took a comic turn; the old woman got into a rage
and said,
"How can you be such a cheat? You told me they were only two louis."
"Nay, madam, I asked three."
"That's a lie, and I shall not allow you to rob this gentleman.
Niece, put those ear-rings down; let the shopwoman keep them."
So far all was well enough; but the old aunt spoilt everything by
saying that if I liked to give her niece the three louis she could
get her a pair twice as good at another shop. It was all the same to
me, so I smilingly put the three louis in front of the young lady,
who still had the ear-rings in her hands. The shop-woman, who was on
the look-out, pocketed the money, saying that the bargain was made,
that the three louis belonged to her and the ear-rings to the young
lady.
"You are a cheat," cried out the enraged old woman.
"And you are an old b----d," answered the shop-woman, "I know you
well." A crowd began to gather in front of the shop, hearing the
cries of the two harpies. Foreseeing a good deal of unpleasantness,
I took the aunt by the arm and led her gently away. The niece, who
was quite content with the ear-rings, and did not care whether they
cost three louis or two, followed her. We shall hear of them again
in due course.
My dear Baret having made me waste a score of louis, which her poor
husband would have regretted much more than myself, we got into the
carriage again, and I took her to the church door from which we had
started. On the way she told me she was coming to stop a few days
with me at Little Poland, and that it was her husband who would ask
me for the invitation.
"When will he do that?"
"To-morrow, if you go by the shop. Come and buy some stockings; I
shall have a bad headache, and Baret will speak to you."
It may be imagined that I took care to call the next day, and as I
did not see his wife in the shop I asked in a friendly way after her
health.
"She is ill in bed," he replied; "she wants a little country air."
"If you have not fixed for any place, I shall be happy to put you up
at Little Poland."
He replied by a smile of delight.
"I will go and urge her to come myself; in the meanwhile, M. Baret,
will you pack me up a dozen pairs of stockings?"
I went upstairs and found the invalid in bed, and laughing in spite
of her imaginary headache. "The business is done," said I, "you will
soon hear of it." As I had said, the husband came upstairs with my
stockings and told her that I had been good enough to give her a room
in my house. The crafty little creature thanked me, assuring her
husband that the fresh air would soon cure her.
"You shall be well looked after," said I, "but you must excuse me if
I do not keep you company--I have to attend to my business.
M. Baret will be able to come and sleep with you every night, and
start early enough in the morning to be in time for the opening of
his shop."
After many compliments had been interchanged, Baret decided on having
his sister stay in the house while his wife was away, and as I took
leave I said that, I should give orders for their reception that very
evening, in case I was out when they came.
Next day I stayed out till after midnight, and the cook told me that
the wedded couple had made a good supper and had gone to bed. I
warned her that I should be dining at home every day, and that I
should not see my company.
The following day I was up betimes, and on enquiring if the husband
had risen I learnt that he had got up at day-break and would not be
back till supper-time. The wife was still asleep. I thought with
reason she was not asleep for me, and I went to pay her my first
visit. In point of fact she was awake, and I took a foretaste of
greater joys by a thousand kisses, which she returned with interest.
We jested at the expense of the worthy man who had trusted me with a
jewel of which I was about to make such good use, and we
congratulated each other on the prospect of a week's mutual
pleasures.
"Come, my dear," said I, "get up and put on a few clothes and we will
take breakfast in my room."
She did not make an elaborate toilette; a cotton dressing gown, a
pretty lace cap, a lawn kerchief, that was all, but how the simple
dress was lighted by the roses of her cheeks! We were quick over our
breakfast, we were in a hurry, and when we had done I shut the door
and we gave ourselves over to the enjoyment of our bliss.
Surprised to find her in the same condition in which I had left her,
I told her I had hoped . . . but she, without giving me time to
finish the phrase, said,
"My jewel, Baret thinks, or pretends to think, that he has done his
duty as a husband; but he is no hand at the business, and I am
disposed to put myself in your hands, and then there will be no doubt
of my condition."
"We shall thus, my sweet, be doing him a service, and the service
shall be well done."
As I said these words I was on the threshold of the temple, and I
opened the door in a manner that overthrew all obstacles. A little
scream and then several sighs announced the completion of the
sacrifice, and, to tell the truth, the altar of love was covered with
the blood of the victim. After the necessary ablutions the priest
once more began his pious work, while the victim growing bolder so
provoked his rage that it was not till the fourth mactation that we
rested and put off our joust to another season. We swore a thousand
times to love each other and to remain constant, and we may possibly
have been sincere, as we were in our ecstasy of pleasure.
We only separated to dress; then after taking a turn in the garden we
dined together, sure that in a sumptuous repast, washed down by the
choicest wines, we should find strength to reanimate our desires and
to lull them to sleep in bliss.
At dessert, as I was pouring champagne into her glass, I asked her
how with such a fiery temperament she had managed to preserve her
virtue?
"Cupid," said I, "might have gathered the fruit that Hymen could not
taste. You are seventeen, and the pear has been ripe for two years
at least."
"Very true, but I have never had a lover."
"Never?"
"I have been courted, but to no effect. My heart was ever silent.
Possibly my father thought otherwise when I begged him, a month ago,
to get me married soon."
"Very likely, but as you were not in love, why were you in such a
hurry?"
"I knew that the Duc d'Elbeuf would soon be coming to town, and that
if he found me still single he would oblige me to become the wife of
a man I detest, who would have me at any price."
"Who is this man for whom you have such an aversion?"
"He is one of the duke's pets, a monster who sleeps with his master."
"Really! I did not know the duke had such tastes."
"Oh yes; he is eighty-four, and he thinks himself a woman; he says he
must have a husband."
"That is very funny. And is this aspirant to your hand a handsome
man?"
"I think him horrible; but everybody else thinks he is a fine man."
The charming Baret spent a week with me, and each day we renewed the
combat in which we were always conquerors and always conquered. I
have seen few women as pretty and seductive, and none whose skin was
more exquisitely soft and fair. Her breath was aromatic, and this
made her kisses most sweet. Her neck was exquisitely shaped, and the
two globes, tipped with coral, were as hard as marble. The exquisite
curves of her figure would have defied the skill of the ablest
painter. I experienced an ineffable joy in contemplating her, and in
the midst of my happiness I called myself unhappy because I could not
satisfy all the desires which her charms aroused in me. The frieze
which crowned her columns was composed of links of pale gold of the
utmost fineness, and my fingers strove in vain to give them another
direction to that which nature had given them. She could easily have
been taught those lively yet graceful movements which double the
pleasure; nature had done her part in that direction, and I do not
think a more expert mistress in the art of love could be found.
Each of us looked forward to the day of her departure with equal
grief, and our only consolation lay in the hope of meeting again, and
often. Three days after she went away, I went to see her, more in
love than ever, and I gave her two notes of five thousand francs
apiece. Her husband might have his suspicions, but he was too happy
at being enabled to pay his debts and to keep his shop open to say
anything unpleasant. Many husbands besides himself think themselves
lucky to have such productive wives.
In the beginning of November I sold shares for fifty thousand francs
to a man named Gamier, living in the Rue du Mail, giving up to him a
third part of the materials in my warehouse, and accepting a manager
chosen by him and paid by the company. Three days after signing the
deed I received the money; but in the night the doctor, my
warehouseman, emptied the till and absconded. I have always thought
that this robbery could not have been effected without the connivance
of the painter. This loss was a serious blow to me, as my affairs
were getting into an embroiled condition; and, for a finishing touch
to my misfortunes, Gamier had me served with a summons to repay him
the fifty thousand francs. My answer was that I was not liable, that
his manager had been appointed, the agreement and sale of the shares
was valid, and that he being one of the company would have to share
in the loss. As he persisted in his claim, I was advised to go to
law, but Gamier declared the agreement null and void, accusing me in
an indirect manner of having appropriated the money which I had said
was stolen. I would willingly have given him a good thrashing, but
he was an old man, and that course would not have mended matters, so
I kept my temper. The merchant who had given surety for the doctor
was not to be found; he had become bankrupt. Garnier had all my
stock seized, and sequestrated my horses, carriages, and all my
private property.
While these troubles were harassing me, I dismissed all my work-
girls, who had always been a great expense, and replaced them with
workmen and some of my servants. The painter still retained his
position, which was an assured one, as he always paid himself out of
the sales.
My attorney was an honest man--a rare bird amongst lawyers--but my
counsel, who kept telling me that the case would soon be decided, was
a rascal. While the decision was pending, Garnier served me with a
writ to pay the sum claimed. I took it to my counsel, who promised
to appeal the same day, which he did not do, while he appropriated to
his own use the money assigned by me for the costs of an action
which, if there had been justice in France, I should certainly have
gained. Two other summonses were issued against me, and before I
knew what was going on a warrant was issued for my arrest. I was
seized at eight o'clock in the morning, as I was driving along the
Rue St. Denis. The sergeant of police sat beside me, a second got up
beside the coachman, and a third stationed himself at the back of the
coach, and in this state we drove to Fort l'Eveque.
As soon as the police had handed me over to the gaoler, he informed
me that by payment of the fifty thousand francs, or by giving good
bail, I might instantly regain my freedom.
"For the moment," said I, "I can neither command money nor bail."
"Very good, then you will stay in prison."
The gaoler took me to a decent-looking room, and I told him I had
only been served with one writ.
"Very likely," answered he, "it often happens like that; but it is
rather difficult to prove."
"Bring me writing materials, and have a trusty messenger at my
disposal."
I wrote to my counsel, my attorney, to Madame d'Urfe, and to all my
friends, including my brother, who was just married. The attorney
called immediately, but the barrister contented himself with writing
to the effect that as he had put in an appeal my seizure was illegal,
and that damages might be recovered. He ended by begging me to give
him a free hand, and to have patience for a few days.
Manon Baletti sent her brother with her diamond earrings. Madame du
Rumain dispatched her barrister--a man of rare honesty--to me, and
wrote a friendly note in which she said that if I wanted five hundred
louis I should have them to-morrow. My brother neither wrote nor
came to see me. As to dear Madame d'Urfe she sent to say that she
would expect me at dinner. I thought she had gone mad, as I could
not think she was making fun of me.
At eleven o'clock my room was full of people. Poor Baret had come
weeping, and offering me all his shop held. I was touched by the
worthy man's kindness. At last I was told that a lady in a coach
wanted to see me. I waited, but nobody came. In my impatience I
called the turnkey, who told me that, after questioning the clerk of
the prison, she had gone away again. From the description I was
given I had no difficulty in identifying the lady with Madame d'Urfe.
To find myself deprived of my liberty was a disagreeable shock to me.
I thought of The Leads, and though my present situation was not to be
compared with that, I cursed my fate as I foresaw that my
imprisonment would damage my reputation. I had thirty thousand
francs in hard cash and jewels to more than double that amount, but I
could not decide on making such a sacrifice, in spite of the advice
given by Madame du Rumain's barrister, who would have me got out of
prison at any cost.
"All you have to do," said the barrister, "is to deposit half the sum
demanded which I will give to the clerk of the court, and in a short
time I can promise a decision in your favour and the restoration of
your money."
We were discussing the matter, when the gaoler entered, and said,
very politely,
"Sir, you are a free man again, and a lady is waiting for you at the
door in her carriage"
I called Le Duc, my man, and told him to go and see who the lady was.
He returned with the information that it was Madame d'Urfe. I made
my bow to everybody, and after four very disagreeable hours of
imprisonment, I found myself free again and sitting in a splendid
coach.
Madame d'Urfe received me with dignified kindness, and a judge who
was in the carriage apologized for his country, where strangers were
exposed to such insults. I thanked Madame d'Urfe in a few words,
telling her that I was glad to become her debtor, but that it was
Garnier who benefited by her generosity. She replied with a pleasant
smile that she was not so sure of that, and that we would talk it
over at dinner. She wanted me to go and walk in the Tuileries and
the Palais Royal, to convince people that the report of my
imprisonment had been false. I thought the advice excellent, and as
I set out I promised to be with her at two o'clock.
After skewing myself at the two principal walks of Paris, amusing
myself by the astonishment depicted on certain faces well known to
me, I went and returned the ear-rings to my dear Manon, who gave an
astonished but a happy cry when she saw me. I thanked her tenderly
for the proof she had given me of her attachment, and said that I had
been arrested by a plot for which I would make the plotters pay dear.
After promising to spend the evening with them I went to Madame
d'Urfe's.
This good lady, whose foible is well known to my readers, made me
laugh when she said that her genius had told her that I had got
myself arrested to be talked about, for reasons which were known only
to myself.
"As soon as I was informed of your arrest," said she, "I went to the
Fort l'Eveque, and on learning from the clerk what the affair was
about, I deposited bonds to bail you out. If you are not in a
position to have justice done you, Gamier will have to reckon with me
before he takes the money I have deposited. But your first step
should be to commence a criminal prosecution against your counsel,
who has not only failed to put in your appeal but has robbed and
deceived you."
I left her in the evening, assuring her that in a few days her bail
should be returned to her; and went to the French and Italian plays
in succession, taking care to render myself conspicuous that my
reappearance might be complete. Afterwards I went to sup with Manon
Baletti, who was too happy to have had an opportunity of spewing her
affection for me; and her joy was full when I told her that I was
going to give up business, for she thought that my seraglio was the
only obstacle to my marriage with her.
The next day was passed with Madame du Rumain. I felt that my
obligations to her were great, while she, in the goodness of her
heart, was persuaded that she could make no adequate return to me for
the oracles with which I furnished her, and by following which she
was safely guided through the perplexities of life. I cannot
understand how she, whose wit was keen, and whose judgment on other
subjects was of the soundest kind, could be liable to such folly. I
was sorry when I reflected that I could not undeceive her, and glad
when I reflected that to this deceit of mine the kindness she had
shewn me was chiefly due.
My imprisonment disgusted me with Paris, and made me conceive a
hatred of the law, which I feel now. I found myself entangled in a
double maze of knavery--Garnier was my foe, and so was my own
counsel. Every time I went to plead, to spend my money amongst
lawyers, and to waste the time better given to pleasure, I felt as if
I was going to execution. In this perturbed kind of life, so
contrary to my inclinations, I resolved to set to work in earnest to
make my fortune, so that I might become independent and free to enjoy
life according to my tastes. I decided in the first place that I
would cut myself free of all that bound me to Paris, make a second
journey into Holland to replenish my purse and invest my money in a
yearly income for two lives, and from thenceforth live free from
care. The two lives were those of my wife and myself; my wife would
be Manon Baletti, and when I told her my plans she would have thought
them delightful if I had begun by marrying her.
The first thing I did was to give up Little Poland. I then drew the
twenty-four thousand francs which were my surety for keeping a
lottery office in the Rue St. Denis. Thus I got rid of my ridiculous
office of lottery receiver, and after getting my clerk married I
handed over the office to him; in short, I made his fortune. A
friend of his wife's was his surety; such things often happen.
I did not like to leave Madame d'Urfe involved in a troublesome suit
with Gamier, so I went to Versailles to see the Abbe de la Ville, a
great friend of his, and begged him to induce Gamier to make a
composition.
The abbe saw that his friend was in the wrong, and so was all the
more willing to help me; and a few days afterwards he wrote to me to
go and see him, assuring me that I should find him inclined to
arrange matters in a friendly manner.
Gamier was at Ruelle, where he had a house which cost him four
hundred thousand francs--a fine estate for a man who had made his
money as an army contractor during the last war. He was rich, but he
was so unfortunate as to be still fond of women at the age of
seventy, while his impotence debarred him from the proper enjoyment
of their society. I found him in company with three young ladies,
all of whom were pretty, and (as I heard afterwards) of good
families; but they were poor, and their necessities forced them to
submit to a disgusting intercourse with the old profligate. I stayed
to dinner and admired the propriety and modesty of their behaviour in
spite of the humiliation which accompanies poverty. After dinner,
Gamier went to sleep, and left me to entertain these girls whom I
would willingly have rescued from their unfortunate situation if I
had been able. After Gamier woke, we went into his study to talk
over our business.
At first he maintained his claim tenaciously, and seemed unwilling to
yield an inch; but when I told him that I was leaving Paris in a few
days, he saw that as he could not keep me, Madame d'Urfe might take
the suit over and carry it on to infinity, and that he might lose it
at last. That made him think it over, and he asked me to stay in his
house for the night. The next day, after breakfast, he said,--
"I have made up my mind: I will have twenty-five thousand francs, or
keep the matter before the courts till my dying day."
I answered that he would find the sum in the hands of Madame d'Urfe's
solicitor, and that he could receive it as soon as he had given
replevy on the bail at the Fort l'Eveque.
I could not persuade Madame d'Urfe that I had acted wisely in coming
to an arrangement till I had told her that my genius had commanded me
not to leave Paris before my affairs were settled, so that no one
might be able to accuse me of having gone away to avoid creditors
whose claims I could not satisfy.
Three or four days afterwards I went to take leave of M. de Choiseul,
who promised to instruct M. d'Afri to aid me in negotiating a loan at
five per cent. either with the States-General or a private company.
"You can tell everyone," said he, "that peace is certain to be made
in the course of the winter, and I will take care that you shall have
what is due to you on your return to France."
M. de Choiseul deceived me, for he knew very well that peace would
not be made; but I had no definite project, and I repented of having
given M. de Boulogne my confidence, and also of having done anything
for the Government, the reward of which was not immediate and
certain.
I sold my horses, my carriages, my furniture; I went bail for my
brother who had contracted debts he was sure of paying, as he had
several pictures on the easel which he had been ordered to paint by
some of his rich and noble patrons. I took leave of Manon, whom I
left in floods of tears, though I swore with the utmost sincerity to
come back soon and marry her.
At last all my preparations were finished, and I left Paris with a
hundred thousand francs in bills of exchange and jewels to the same
amount. I was alone in my post-chaise, Le Duc preceding me on
horseback, which the rascal preferred to being shut up in a carriage.
This Le Duc of mine was a Spaniard, aged eighteen, a sharp fellow,
whom I valued highly, especially because he did my hair better than
anyone else. I never refused him a pleasure which a little money
would buy. Besides him I had a good Swiss servant, who served as my
courier.
It was the 1st of December, 1759, and the air was frosty, but I was
fortified against the inclemency of the season. I was able to read
comfortably, and I took Helvetius's "Esprit," which I had never had
time to read before. After perusing it I was equally astonished at
the sensation it created and at the stupidity of the High Court which
condemned it. Of course that exalted body was largely influenced by
the king and the clergy, and between them all no effort was spared to
ruin Helvetius, a good-hearted man with more wit than his book. I
saw nothing novel either in the historical part relating to the
morals of nations (in which Helvetius dismisses us as triflers), or
in the position that morality is dependent on the reason. All that
he says has been said over and over again, and Blaise Pascal went
much farther, but he wrote more skilfully and better in every way
than Helvetius, who, wishing to remain in France, was obliged to
retract. He preferred a quiet life to his honour and his philosophy.
His wife had a nobler soul than he, as she wanted to sell all they
had, and to take refuge in Holland rather than submit to the shame of
a recantation. Perhaps Helvetius would have followed the noble
advice of his wife if he had foreseen that this monstrous recantation
would make his book into a fraud; for he had to confess that he had
written without due reflection, that he was more in jest than
earnest, and that his arguments were mere sophisms. But many men of
keen intellects had not waited for him to recant before exposing this
wretched system of his. And admitting that whatever man does is done
for his own interest, does it follow that gratitude is a folly, and
virtue and vice identical? Are a villain and a man of honour to be
weighed in the same balance? If such a dreadful system were not
absurd, virtue would be mere hypocrisy; and if by any possibility it
were true, it ought to be proscribed by general consent, since it
would lead to general ruin and corruption.
It might have been proved to Helvetius that the propositions that the
first motive is always self-interest, and that we should always
consult our own interest first, are fallacious. It is a strange
thing that so virtuous a man would not admit the existence of virtue.
It is an amusing suggestion that he only published his book out of
modesty, but that would have contradicted his own system. But if it
were so, was it well done to render himself contemptible to escape
the imputation of pride? Modesty is only a virtue when it is
natural; if it is put on, or merely the result of training, it is
detestable. The great d'Alembert was the most truly modest man I
have ever seen.
When I got to Brussels, where I spent two days, I went to the "Hotel
de l'Imperatrice," and chance sent Mdlle. X. C. V. and Farsetti in
my way, but I pretended not to see them. From Brussels I went
straight to the Hague, and got out at the "Prince of Orange." On my
asking the host who sat down at his table, he told me his company
consisted of general officers of the Hanoverian army, same English
ladies, and a Prince Piccolomini and his wife; and this made me make
up my mind to join this illustrious assemblage.
I was unknown to all, and keeping my eyes about me I gave my chief
attention to the observation of the supposed Italian princess, who
was pretty enough, and more especially of her husband whom I seemed
to recognize. In the course of conversation I heard some talk of the
celebrated St. Germain, and it seemed that he was stopping in the
same hotel.
I had returned to my room, and was thinking of going to bed, when
Prince Piccolomini entered, and embraced me as an old friend.
"A look in your face," said he, "tells me that the recognition has
been mutual. I knew you directly in spite of the sixteen years that
have passed since we saw each other at Vicenza. To-morrow you can
tell everybody that we are friends, and that though I am not a prince
I am really a count; here is my passport from the King of Naples,
pray read it."
During this rapid monologue I could not get in a single word, and on
attentively scanning his features I could only recollect that I had
seen him before, but when or where or how I knew not. I opened the
passport and read the name of Ruggero di Rocco, Count Piccolomini.
That was enough; I remembered an individual of that name who was a
fencing-master in Vicenza, and on looking at him again his aspect,
though much changed left no doubt as to the identity of the swordsman
and the count.
"I congratulate you," said I, "on your change of employment, your new
business is doubtless much better than the old."
"I taught fencing," he replied, "to save myself from dying of hunger,
for my father was so hard a man that he would not give me the
wherewithal to live, and I disguised my name so as not to disgrace
it. On my father's death I succeeded to the property, and at Rome I
married the lady you have seen."
"You had good taste, for she's a pretty woman."
"She is generally thought so, and it was a love match on my side."
He ended by asking me to come and see him in his room the next day,
after dinner, telling me that I should find good company and a bank
at faro, which he kept himself. He added, without ceremony, that if
I liked we could go half shares, and that I should find it
profitable. I thanked him, and promised to pay him a visit.
I went abroad at an early hour next morning, and after having spent
some time with the Jew, Boaz, and having given a polite refusal to
his offer of a bed, I went to pay my respects to M. d'Afri, who since
the death of the Princess of Orange, the Regent of the Low Countries,
was generally known as His Most Christian Majesty's ambassador. He
gave me an excellent reception, but he said that if I had returned to
Holland hoping to do business on behalf of the Government I should
waste my time, since the action of the comptroller-general had
lowered the credit of the nation, which was thought to be on the
verge of bankruptcy.
"This M. Silhouette," said he, "has served the king very badly. It
is all very well to say that payments are only suspended for a year,
but it is not believed."
He then asked me if I knew a certain Comte de St. Germain, who had
lately arrived at the Hague.
"He has not called on me," said the ambassador, "though he says he is
commissioned by the king to negotiate a loan of a hundred millions.
When I am asked about him, I am obliged to say that I know nothing
about him, for fear of compromising myself. Such a reply, as you can
understand, is not likely to increase his chance of success, but that
is his fault and not mine. Why has he not brought me a letter from
the Duc de Choiseul or the Marquise de Pompadour? I take him to
be an impostor, but I shall know something more about him in the
course of ten days."
I told him, in my turn, all I knew of this truly eccentric
individual. He was not a little surprised to hear that the king had
given him an apartment at Chambord, but when I told him that the
count professed to be able to make diamonds he laughed and said that
in that case he would no doubt make the hundred millions. Just as I
was leaving, M. d'Afri asked me to dine with him on the following
day.
On returning to the hotel I called on the Comte de St. Germain.
"You have anticipated me," said he, on seeing me enter, "I intended
to have called on you. I suppose, my dear Casanova, that you have
come to try what you can do for our Court, but you will find your
task a difficult one, as the Exchange is highly offended at the late
doings of that fool Silhouette. All the same I hope I shall be able
to get my hundred millions. I have passed my word to my friend,
Louis XV. (I may call him so), and I can't disappoint him; the
business will be done in the next three or four weeks."
"I should think M. d'Afri might assist you."
"I do not require his assistance. Probably I shall not even call
upon him, as he might say he helped me. No, I shall have all the
trouble, and I mean to have all the glory, too."
"I presume you will be going to Court, where the Duke of Brunswick
may be of service to you?"
"Why should I go to Court? As for the Duke of Brunswick, I do not
care to know him. All I have got to do is to go to Amsterdam, where
my credit is sufficiently good for anything. I am fond of the King
of France; there's not a better man in the kingdom."
"Well, come and dine at the high table, the company is of the best
and will please you."
"You know I never eat; moreover, I never sit down at a table where I
may meet persons who are unknown to me."
"Then, my lord, farewell; we shall see each other again at
Amsterdam."
I went down to the dining-roam, where, while dinner was being served,
I conversed with some officers. They asked me if I knew Prince
Piccolomini, to which I answered that he was not a prince but a
count, and that it was many years since I had seen him.
When the count and his fair wife (who only spoke Italian) came down,
I shewed them some polite attentions, and we then sat down to dinner.
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of MEMOIRES OF JACQUES CASANOVA
THE ETERNAL QUEST, Vol. 3b, RETURN TO PARIS
by Jacques Casanova de Seingalt
