CHAPTER XXIII CONTINUES THE PROCEEDING CHAPTER M. M. recovers. I return to Venice. Tonine consoles me. Decrease of my love for M. M. Dr. Rigellini. Curious conversation with him. How this conversation affected M. M. Mr. Murray, undeceived and avenged. Tonine had what is called tact and common sense, and thinking these qualities were required in our economy, she behaved with great delicacy, not going to bed before receiving my letters, and never coming into my room except in a proper dress, and all this pleased me. For a fortnight, M. M. was so ill that I expected every moment to hear the news of her death. On Shrove Tuesday, C. C., wrote that her friend was not strong enough to read my letter, and that she was going to receive extreme unction. This news so shocked me that I could not rise and pass the whole day in weeping and writing. Tonine, not leaving me till midnight, I could not sleep. On Ash Wednesday I got a letter, in which C., C., told me that the doctor had no hopes for her friend, and that he only gave her a fortnight to live. A low fever was wasting her away, her weakness was extreme, and she could scarcely swallow a little broth. She had also the misfortune to be harassed by her confessor, who made her foretaste all the terrors of death. I could only solace my grief by writing, and Tonine now and again made bold to observe that I was cherishing my grief, and that it would be the death of me. I knew myself that I was making my anguish more poignant, and that keeping to my bed, continued writing, and no food would finally drive me mad. I had told my grief to Port Tonine, whose chief duty was to wipe away my tears. She had compassion on me. A few days later, after assuring C., C., that if our friend died, I should not survive her, I asked her to tell, M., M., that if she wanted me to take care of my life, she must promise to let me carry her off on her recovery. I have, I said, four thousand sequins, and her diamonds which are worth six thousand. We should therefore have a sufficient sum to enable us to live honorably in any part of Europe. C., C., wrote to me on the following day, and said that my mistress, after hearing my letter read, had fallen into a kind of convulsion, and becoming delirious she talked incessantly in French, for three whole hours in a fashion, which meant of made all the nuns take to their heels, if they had understood her. I was in despair, and was nearly raving as wildly as my poor nun. Her delirium lasted three days, and as soon as she got back her reason, she charged her young friend to tell me that she was sure to get well if I promised to keep my word, and to carry her off as soon as her health would allow. I hastened to reply, that if I lived, she might be sure my promise would be fulfilled. Thus continuing to deceive each other in all good faith, we got better. For every letter from C., C., telling me how the convalescence of her friend was progressing, was to me as balm. And as my mind grew more composed, my appetite also grew better, and my health improved day by day. I soon, though quite unconsciously, began to take pleasure in the simple ways of Tonine, who now never left me at night before she saw that I was asleep. Towards the end of March, M., M., wrote to me herself, saying that she believed herself out of danger, and that by taking care she hoped to be able to leave her room after Easter. I replied that I should not leave Moran till I had the pleasure of seeing her at the grading, where, without hurrying ourselves, we could plan the execution of our scheme. It was now seven weeks since M., M., had seen me, and thinking that he would be getting anxious, I resolved to go and see him that very day. Telling Tonine that I should not be back till the evening, I started for Venice without a cloak. For having gone to Moran masked, I had forgotten to take one. I had spent forty-eight days without going out of my room, chiefly in tears and distress and without taking any food. I had just gone through an experience which flattered my self-esteem. I had been served by a girl who would have passed for her beauty anywhere in Europe. She was gentle, thoughtful and delicate, and without being taxed with foppishness. I think I may say that, if she was not in love with me, she was, at all events, inclined to please me to the utmost of her ability. For all that I had been able to withstand her youthful charms, I now scarcely dreaded them. Seeing her every day, I had dispersed my amorous fancies and friendship and gratitude seemed to have vanquished all other feelings. For I was obliged to confess that this charming girl had lavished on me the most tender and assiduous care.  Never had I given her a kiss, never had I allowed myself to undress in her presence, and never, with one exception, had she come into my room without being properly dressed. For all that I knew that I had fought a battle and I felt inclined to boast at having won the victory. There was only one circumstance that vexed me. Namely, I was nearly certain that neither M. M. nor C. C. would consider such continence to be within the bounds of possibility if they had heard of it, and that Laura herself, to whom her daughter would tell the whole story, would be skeptical, though she might out of kindness pretend to believe it all. I got to M. de Bragedin's just as the soup was being served. He welcomed me heartily and was delighted at having foreseen that I should thus surprise them. Besides my two other old friends, there were De La Haye, Boivois, and Dr. Rigolini at the table. What? You without a cloak? said M. Dandolo. Yes, said I, for having gone out with my mask on, I forgot to bring one. At this they laughed, and without putting myself out, I sat down. No one asked where I had been so long, for it was understood that that question should be left to me to answer or not. Nevertheless, De La Haye, who was bursting with curiosity, could not refrain from breaking some jests on me. You have got so thin, said he, that uncharitable people would be rather hard on you. I trust that they will not say that I have been passing my time with the Jesuits. You are sarcastic. They may say perhaps that you have passed your time in a hot-house under the influence of mercury. Don't be afraid, sir, for to escape this hasty judgment I shall go back this evening. No, no, I am quite sure you will not. Believe me, sir, said I, with a bantering tone, that I deem your opinion of too much consequence not to be governed by it. Seeing that I was an earnest my friends were angry with him, and the Aristarchus was in some confusion. Rigolini, who was one of Murray's intimate friends, said to me in a friendly way that he had been longing to tell Murray of my reappearance, and of the falsity of all the reports about me. We will go to sup with him, said I, and I will return after supper. Seeing that Mr. Brageden and his two friends were uneasy about me, I promised to dine with them on April 25, St. Mark's Day. As soon as Mr. Murray saw me, he fell on my neck and embraced me. He introduced me to his wife, who asked me to supper with great politeness. After Murray had told me the innumerable stories that had been made about my disappearance, he asked me if I knew a little story by the Abbey Chiari, which had come out at the end of the carnival. As I said I knew nothing about it, he gave me a copy, telling me that I should like it. He was right. It was a satire in which the Zorzi click was pulled to pieces, and in which I played a very poor part. I did not read it till some time after, and in the meantime put it in my pocket. After a very good supper I took a gondola to return to Moran. It was midnight and very dark, so I did not perceive the gondola to be ill-covered and in wretched order. A fine rain was falling as I got in, and the drops getting larger I was soon wet to the skin. No great harm was done as I was close to my quarters. I groped my way upstairs and knocked at the door of the ante-room, where Tonine, who had not waited for me, was sleeping. Awake in a moment she came to open the door in her smock and without a light. As I wanted one I told her to get the flint and steel, which she did, warning me in a modest voice that she was not dressed. "'That's of no consequence,' said I, provided you are covered.' She said no more, and soon lighted a candle, but she could not help laughing when she saw me dripping wet. "'I only want you, my dear,' said I, to dry my hair. She quickly set to work with powder and powder-puff in her hand, but her smock was short and loose at the top, and I repented, rather too late that I had not given her time to dress. I felt that all was lost, all the more as having to use both her hands. She could not hold her smock, and conceal two swelling spheres more seductive than the apples of hisperities. How could I help seeing them?  But I gave in at last, and fixed such a hungry gaze upon poor Tonine that she blushed. "'Come,' said I, take your smock between your teeth, and then I shall see no more. But it was worse than before, and I had only added fuel to the fire. For, as the veil was short, I could see the bases, and almost the frieze of two marble columns. And at this site I gave a voluptuous cry, not knowing how to conceal everything from my gaze, Tonine let herself fall on the sofa. And I, my passions at fever or heat, stood beside her, not knowing what to do.  She came obediently. But the dye was cast, and my resistance overcome. I clasped her between my arms, and without any more thoughts of playing at blind man's bluff, I threw her on the bed and covered her with kisses. And as I swore that I would always love her, she opened her arms to receive me in a way that showed how long she had been waiting for this moment. I plucked the rose, and then, as after, I thought it the rarest I had ever gathered since I had labored in the harvest of the fruitful fields of love. When I awoke in the morning I found myself more deeply in love with Tonine than I had been with any other woman. She had got up without waking me, but as soon as she had heard me stirring she came, and I tenderly chided her for not waiting for me to give her good morrow. Without answering she gave me M. M.'s letter. I thanked her, but petting the letter on one side I took her in my arms, and set her on my side. "'What a wonder!' cried Tonine. "'You are not in a hurry to read that letter. Faithless man! Why did you not let me cure you six weeks ago? How lucky I am, thanks to the rain! I do not blame you, dear, but love me, as you love her who writes to you every day, and I shall be satisfied.' "'Do you know who she is?' "'She lives in a boarding-house, and is as beautiful as an angel, but she is there, and I am here. You are my master, and I will be your servant as long as you like.' I was glad to leave her in error, and swore an everlasting love, but during our conversation she had let herself drop down in the bottom of the bed, and I treated her to lie down again. But she said that on the contrary it was time for me to get up for dinner, for she wanted to give me a dainty meal cooked in the Venetian manner. "'Who is the cook?' said I. "'I am, and I have been using all of my skill on it since five when I got up. What time is it now then? Past one.' The girl astonished me. She was no longer the shy Tonine of last night. She had that exultant air which happiness bestows, and the look of pleasure which the delights of love give to a young beauty. I could not understand how I had escaped from doing homage to her beauty when I was first saw her at her mother's house. But I was then too deeply in love with C. C. I was in too great distress, and moreover Tonine was then unformed. I got up, and making her bring me a cup of coffee, I asked her to keep the dinner back for a couple of hours. I found M. M's letter affectionate, but not so interesting as it would have been the day before. I set myself to answer it, and was almost thunderstruck to find the task, for the first time a painful one. However my short journey to Venice supplied me with talk which covered four pages. I had an exquisite dinner with my charming Tonine, looking at her at the same time as my wife, my mistress, and my housekeeper. I was delighted to find myself made happy at such a cheap rate. We spent the whole day at the table talking of our love, and giving each other a thousand little marks of it, for there is no such rich and pleasant matter for conversation as when they, who talk, are parties to an amorous suit. She told me with charming simplicity that she knew perfectly well she could not make me amorous of her, because I loved another, and that her only hope was therefore in a surprise which she had foreseen the happy moment when I told her she need not dress herself to light a candle. Tonine was naturally quick witted, but she did not know either how to read or to write. She was enchanted to see herself become rich, for she thought herself so, without a soul at Moran being able to breathe the word against her honor. I passed three weeks in the company of this delightful girl, weeks which I still reckon among the happiest of my life. And what embitters my old age is that, having a heart as warm as ever, I have no longer the strength necessary to secure a single day as blissful as those which I owed to this charming girl. Toward the end of April I saw M. M. at the grating, looking thin and much changed, but out of danger. I therefore returned to Venice. In my interview, calling my attachment and tender feelings to my aid, I succeeded in behaving myself in such wise that she could not possibly detect the change which a new love had worked in my heart. I shall be, I trust, easily believed when I say that I was not imprudent enough to let her suspect that I had given up the idea of escaping with her, upon which she counted more than ever. I was afraid lest she should fall ill again if I took this hope away from her. I kept my casino, which cost me little, and as I went to see M. M. twice a week I slept there on those occasions, and made love with my dashing Tonine. Having kept my word with my friends by dining with them on St. Mark's Day, I went with Dr. Rigolini to the parlor of the Vierghese to see the taking of the veil. The convent of the Vierghese is within the jurisdiction of the Doge, whom the nuns style most serene father. They all belong to the first families in Venice. While I was praising the beauty of M. M. E. to Dr. Rigolini, he whispered to me that he could get her me for a money payment if I were curious in the matter. A hundred sequins for her and ten sequins for the go-between was the price fixed on. He assured me that Murray had had her, and could have her again. Seeing my surprise he added that there was not a nun whom one could not have by paying for her. That Murray had had the courage to disperse five hundred sequins for a nun of Moran, a rare beauty who was afterwards the mistress of the French ambassador. Though my passion for M. M. was on the wane, I felt my heart gripped as by a hand of ice, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I made no sign. Notwithstanding I took the story for an atrocious calamity, and yet the matter was too near my heart for me to delay in bringing it to the light at the earliest opportunity. I therefore replied to Rigolini in the calmest manner possible that one or two nuns might be had for money, but that it could happen very rarely on account of the difficulties in most convents. As for the nun of Moran, justly famous for her beauty, if she be M. M. nun of the convent, I not only disbelieve that Murray ever had her, but I am sure that she was never the French ambassador's mistress. If he knew her, it could have only been at the grading, where I really cannot say what happens. Rigolini, who was an honorable and spirited man, answered me coldly that the English ambassador was a man of his word, and that he had the story from his own lips. If Mr. Murray, he continued, had not told it to me under the seal of secrecy, I would make him tell it to you himself. I shall be obliged if you will take care that he never knows that I told you of it. You may rely on my discretion. The same evening, supping at Murray's casino with Rigolini, having the matter at heart and seeing between me the two men who could clear it up, everything to my satisfaction, I began to speak with enthusiasm of the beauty of M. E., whom I had seen at the Vieirgis. Here the ambassador struck in, taking the ball on the hop. "'Between friends,' said he, "'you can get yourself the enjoyment of those charms if you are willing to sacrifice a sum of money. Not too much, either, but you must have the key.' "'Do you think you have it?' "'No, I am sure, and had less trouble than you might suppose. "'If you are sure, I congratulate you, and doubt no more. I envy your fortune, for I don't believe a more perfect beauty could be found in all the convents of Venice.' "'Then you are wrong. Mother M. M. and Moran is certainly handsomer.' I have heard her talked of, and I have seen her once, but I do not think it possible that she could be procured for money.' "'I think so,' said he, laughing, and when I think I mostly have good reasons.' "'You surprise me, but all the same I don't mind betting you are deceived. You would lose. As you have only seen her once, I suppose you would not recognize her portrait.' "'I should indeed, as her face left a very strong impression on my mind.' "'Wait a minute.' He got up from the table, and went out, and returned a minute after with a box containing eight or ten miniatures, all in the same style, namely with hair and disorder and bare necks. "'These,' said I, "'are rare charms, with which you have doubtless and near acquaintance.' "'Yes, and if you recognize any of them, be discreet.' "'You need not be afraid. Here are three I recognize, and this looks like M. M. But confess that you may have been deceived, at least, that you did not have her in the convent, or here, for there are other women like her.' "'Why do you think I have been deceived? I have had her in her religious habit, and I have spent a whole night with her, and it was to her individually that I sent a purse containing five hundred sequins. I gave fifty to the good procurer.' "'You have, I suppose, visited her in the parlor after having her here.' "'No, never, and she was afraid her titular lover might hear of it. You know, that was the French ambassador. But she only saw him in the parlor. She used to go to his house in secular dress whenever he wanted her. I was told that by the man who brought her here. Have you had her several times? Only once, and that was enough, but I can have her whenever I like for a hundred sequins. All that might be the truth, but I would wage your five hundred sequins that you have been deceived. You shall have your answer in three days.' I was perfectly certain, I repeat, that the whole affair was a piece of navery, but it was necessary to have it proved, and I shuddered when the thought came into my head that after all it might be a true story. In this case I should have been freed from a good many obligations, but I was strongly persuaded of her innocence. At all events, if I were to find her guilty, which was amongst possible occurrences, I resigned myself to lose five hundred sequins as the price of this horrible discovery, in addition to my experience of life. I was full of restless anguish, the worst, perhaps, of the torments of the mind. If the honest Englishman had been the victim of a mystification, or rather navery, my regard for M.M.'s honor compelled me to find a way to deceive him without compromising her. And such was my plan, and thus fortune favored me. Two or three days after Mr. Murray told the doctor that he wished to see me, we went to him, and he greeted me thus. I of one, for a hundred sequins I could have the fair none. Alas, said I, there go my five hundred sequins. No, not five hundred, my dear fellow, for I should be ashamed to win so much of you. But the hundred she should cost me. If I win, you shall pay for my pleasure. And if I lose, I shall give her nothing. How is the problem to be solved? My mercury tells me that we must wait for a day when masks are worn. He is endeavoring at present to find out a way to convince both of us. For otherwise, neither you nor I would feel compelled to pay the wager. If I really have M.M., my honor would not allow me to let her suspect that I had betrayed the secret. No, that would be an unpardonable crime. Hear my plan, which will satisfy us both, for after it has been carried out, each of us will be sure that he is fairly won or fairly lost. As soon as you have possessed yourself of the real or pretended none, leave her on some pretext and meet me in a place to be agreed upon. We shall then go together to the convent, and I will ask for M.M. Will seeing her and speaking to her convince you that the woman you have left at home is a mere imposter? Perfectly, and I shall pay my wager with the greatest willingness. I may say the same. If, when I summon M.M. to the parlor, the lay sister tells me she is ill or busy, we will go, and the wager will be yours.  So be it, but since this will all be at night-time, it is possible that when you ask for her, the sister will tell you that no one can be seen at such an hour. Then I shall lose. You are quite sure, then, that if she be in the convent she shall come down. That's my business. I repeat, if you don't speak to her, I shall hold myself to have lost a hundred sequins, or a thousand if you like. One can't speak plainer than that, my dear fellow, and I thank you beforehand. The only thing I ask you is to come as sharp to time, and not to come too late for a convent. One hour after sunset suit you? Admirably. I shall also make up my business to compel my masked mistress to stop where she is, even though it be M.M. herself. Some won't have long to wait. If you take her to a casino which I possess at Moran, and where I secretly keep a girl of whom I am amorous, I will take care that she shall not be there on the appointed day, and I will give you the key of the casino. I shall also see that you find a delicate, cold supper ready. That is admirable, but I must also point out the place to my mercury. True. I will give you a supper tomorrow, the greatest secrecy to be observed between us. We will go out to my casino in a gondola, and after supper we will go out by the street door. Thus you will know the way by land and water. You will only have to tell the procurer the name of the canal and of the house, and on the day fixed you shall have the key. You will only find there an old man who lives on the ground floor, and he will see neither those who go out nor those who come in. My sweetheart will see nothing, and will not be seen, and all, trust me, will turn out well. I began to think that I have lost my bet, said the Englishman, who was delighted with the plan, but it matters not, I can gaily encounter either loss or gain. We made our appointment for the next day and separated. On the following day I went to Moran to warn Tonine that I was going to sup with her, and to bring two of my friends, and as my English friend paid as great a court to Bacchus as to Cupid, I took care to send my little housekeeper several bottles of excellent wine. Charmed with the prospect of doing the honors of the table, Tonine only asked if my friends would go away after supper. I said yes, and this reply made her happy. She only cared for the dessert. After leaving her I went to the convent and passed an hour with M. M. in the parlor. I was glad to see that she was getting back her health and her beauty every day, and having complimented her upon it I returned to Venice. In the evening my two friends kept their appointment to the minute, and we went to the little casino at two hours after sunset. Our supper was delicious, and my Tonine charmed me with the gracefulness of her carriage.  When I was in love I did not encourage my friends to conjure my sweetheart. But I became full of complacence when time had cooled the heat of my passion. We parted about midnight, and having taken Mr. Murray to the spot where I was to wait for him on the day of trial, I returned to compliment my charming Tonine as she had deserved. She praised my two friends, and could not express her surprise at seeing our English friend going away, fresh and nimble on his feet, notwithstanding him having emptied by himself six bottles of my best wine. Murray looked like a fine Bacchus after Rubens. On wit, Sunday, Rigolini came to tell me that the English ambassador had made all arrangements with the pretended procurer of M.M. for wit Tuesday. I gave him the keys of my abode at Moran, and told him to assure Murray that I would keep the appointment at the exact time arranged upon. My impatience brought on palpitation of the heart, which was extremely painful, and I passed two nights without closing an eye. For though I was convinced of M.M.'s innocence, my agitation was extreme. But whence all this anxiety, merely from a desire to see the ambassador undeceived, M.M. in his eyes must have seemed a common prostitute, and the moment in which he would be obliged to confess himself the victim of roguery would re-establish the honor of the none. Mr. Murray was as impatient as myself with this difference, that whereas he, looking upon the adventure as a comic one, only laughed, I found it too tragic, shuddered with indignation. On Tuesday morning I went to Moran to tell Tonine to get a cold supper after my instruction, to lay a table for two, to get wax lights ready, and having sent in several bottles of wine, I bade her to keep to the room occupied by the old landlord, and to not to come out till the people who were coming in the evening were gone. She promised to do so and asked no questions. After leaving her, I went to the convent parlor, and asked to see M.M. Not expecting to see me, she asked why I had not gone to the pageant of the book-antar, which the weather being favorable would have set out on this day. I do not know what I answered, but I know that she found my words little to the purpose. I came at last to the important point. I told her I was going to ask a favor of her, on which my peace of mind depended, on which she must grant blindly without asking any questions. Tell me what I am to do, sweetheart, said she, and be sure I will refuse nothing which may be in my power. I shall be here this evening, an hour after sunset, and ask for you at this grading. Come! I shall be with another man, of whom I beg of you to say a few words of politeness. You can then leave us. Let us find some pretext to justify the unseasonable hour. I will do what you ask, but you cannot imagine how troublesome it is in a convent. For at six o'clock the parlors are shut up, and the keys are taken to the abbess's room. However, as you only want me for five minutes, I will tell the abbess that I am expecting a letter from my brother, and that it can be sent to me on this evening only. You must give me a letter that the nun who will be with me may be able to say that I have not been guilty of deception. You will not come alone, then? I should not dare even to ask for such a privilege. Very good, but try to come with some old man who is short-sighted. I will keep the light in the background. Pray do not do so, my beloved. On the contrary, place it so that you may be distinctly seen. All this is very strange, but I have promised passive obedience, and I will come down with two lights. May I hope that you will explain this riddle to me at your next interview. By tomorrow, at latest, you will know the whole story. By curiosity will prevent me from sleeping. Not so, dear heart, sleep peacefully, and be sure of my gratitude. The reader will think that after this conversation my heart was perfectly at rest, but how far was I from resting? I returned to Venice, tortured lest I should be told in the evening at the door of the cathedral where we were to meet that the nun was obliged to put off her appointment. If that had happened, I should not have exactly ex-suspected M.M., but the ambassador would have thought that I had caused the scheme to miscarry. It is certain that in that case I should not have taken my man to the parlor, but should have gone there sadly by myself. I passed the whole day in these torments, thinking that it would never come to an end, and in the evening I put a letter in my pocket, and went to my post at the hour agreed upon. Finally Murray kept the appointment exactly. Is the nun there? said I, as soon as he was near me. Yes, my dear fellow, we will go if you like to the parlor, but you will find that we shall be told that she is ill or engaged.  God forbid, my dear fellow, I cling to that hundred do-cots. Let us be gone. We presented ourselves at the wicket, and I asked for M.M., and the doorkeeper made me breathe again by saying that I was expected. I entered the parlor with my English friend, and I saw it was lighted by four candles. I cannot recall these moments without being in love with life. I take note not only of my noble mistress's innocence, but also of the quickness of her wit. Murray remained serious, without a smile on his face. Full of grace and beauty, M.M. came into the room with a lay sister, each of them holding a candlestick. She paid me a compliment in good French. I gave her the letter, and looking at the address and seal, she put it in her pocket. After thanking me and saying she would reply in due course, she turned towards my companion. I shall, perhaps, make you lose the first act of the opera, said she. The pleasure of seeing you, M.M., is worth all the operas in the world. You are English, I think. Yes, madam. The English are now the greatest people in the world, because they are free and powerful. Gentlemen, I wish you a very good evening. I have never seen M.M. looking so beautiful as then, and I went out of the parlor ablaze with love, and glad as I had never been before. I walked with long strides towards my casino, without taking notice of the ambassador, who did not hurry himself in following me. I waited for him at my door. Well, said I, are you convinced now that you have been cheated? Be quiet. We have time enough to talk about that. Let us go upstairs. Shall I come? Do. What do you think I could do by myself for four hours with that creature who is waiting for me? We will amuse ourselves with her. Had we not better turn her out? No. Her master is coming for her two o'clock in the morning. She would go and warn him, and he would escape my vengeance. We will throw them both out the window. Be moderate, for M.M.'s honor depends on the secrecy we observe. Let us go upstairs. We shall have some fun. I should like to see the hussy. Murray was the first to enter the room, and as soon as the girl saw me, she threw her handkerchief over her face, and told the ambassador that such behavior was unworthy of him. He made no answer. She was not so tall as M.M., and she spoke bad French. Her cloak and mask were on the bed, but she was dressed as a nun. As I wanted to see her face I politely asked her to do me the favor of showing it. I don't know you, said she. Who are you? You are in my house, and don't know who I am? I am in your house because I have been betrayed. I do not think that I should have to do with a scoundrel. At this word Murray commanded her to be silent, calling her by the name of her honorable business, and the slut got up to take her cloak, saying that she would go. Murray pushed her back and told her that she would have to wait for her worthy friend, warning her to make no noise if she wanted to keep out of prison. Put me in prison. With this she directed her hand towards her dress, but I rushed forward and seized one hand, while Murray mastered the other. We pushed her back on a chair while we possessed ourselves of the pistols she carried in her pockets.  Will you hold your tongue and keep quiet till Kapsuka follow comes, said the ambassador, or go to prison? If I keep quiet what will become of me? I promise to let you go. With him? Perhaps. Well then, I will keep quiet. Have you got any more weapons? Hereupon the slut took off her habit and her petticoat, and if we had allowed her, she would have soon been in a state of nature, no doubt in the expectation of our passions granting what our reason refused. I was much astonished to find in her only a false resemblance to M.M. I remarked as much to the ambassador who agreed with me, but made me confess that most men, pre-possessed with the idea that they were going to see M.M., would have fallen into the same trap. In fact, logging to possess one's selves of a nun who has renounced all the pleasures of the world, and especially that of cohabitation with the other sex, is the very apple of Eve, and is more delightful, from the very difficulty of penetrating the convent grading. A few of my readers will fail to testify that the Swedish pleasures are those which are hardest to be won, and that the prize, to obtain which one would risk one's life, would often pass unnoticed if it were freely offered without difficulty or hazard. In the following chapter, dear reader, you will see the end of this farcical adventure. In the meantime, let us take a little breath. End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Pam Moscato. The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 2, Paris and Prison by Jacques-Camo Casanova Translated by Arthur Matchen Episode 9, Chapter 24 Pleasant ending of the adventure of the false nun. M. M. finds out that I have a mistress. She is avenged on the wretch Kepsisfollow. I ruin myself at play, and at the suggestion of M. M. I sell all her diamonds one after another. I hand over Tonine to Murray, who makes provision for her. Her sister, Barbara Rene, takes her place. How did you make this nice acquaintance, I asked the ambassador. Six months ago, he replied, while standing at the convent gate with Mr. Smith, our consul, in whose company I had been to see some ceremony or other, I remarked to him, as we were talking over some nuns we had noticed. I would gladly give five hundred sequence for a few hours of sister M. M.'s company. Count Kepsisfollow heard what I said, but made no remark. Mr. Smith answered that one could only see her at the grading, as did the ambassador of France, who often came to visit her. Kepsisfollow called on me the next morning, and said that if I had spoken in good faith he was sure he could get me a night with the nun in whatever place I liked, if she could count on my secrecy. I have just been speaking to her, said he, and on my mentioning your name. She said she had noticed you with Mr. Smith, and vowed she would sup with you more for love than money. I said the rascal, and the only man she trusts, and I take her to the French ambassador's casino in Venice whenever she wants to go there. You need not be afraid of being cheated, as you will give the money to her personally, when you have possessed yourself of her. With this he took her portrait from his pocket and showed it me. And here it is. I bought it of him two days after I believed myself to have spent a night with the charming nun, and a fortnight after our conversation.  I am vexed with myself for not having suspected the cheat at all events when I saw her hair, as I know that nun's hair should be cut short. But when I said something about it to the hussy, she told me they were allowed to keep their hair under their caps, and I was weak enough to believe her. I knew that on this particular Murray had not been deceived, but I did not feel compelled to tell him so then and there. I held the portrait Murray had given me in my hand, and compared it with the face before me. In the portrait the breast was bare, and as I was remarking that painters did those parts as best they could, the impotent wench seized the opportunity to show me that the miniature was faithful to nature. I turned my back upon her, with an expression of contempt, which would have mortified her if these creatures were ever capable of shame. As we talked things over, I could not help laughing at the axiom. Things which are equal to the same thing are equal to one another, for the miniature was like M.M. and like the courtesan, and yet the two women were not like each other. Murray agreed with me, and we spent an hour in a philosophical discussion on the matter. As the false M.M. was named innocent, we expressed a wish to know how her name agreed with her profession, and how the nave had induced her to play the part she had taken, and she told us the following story. I have known Count Kepses' follow for two years, and have found him useful, for though he has given me no money he has made me profit largely through the people he has introduced to me. About the end of last autumn he came to me one day, and said that if I could make up, as a nun, with some clothes he would get me, and in that character pass a night with an Englishman, I should be the better by five hundred sequins. You need not be afraid of anything, he said, as I myself will take you to the casino, where the dupe will be awaiting you, and I will come and take you back to your imaginary convent towards the end of the night. He showed me how I must behave, and told me what to reply if my lover asked any questions about the discipline of the convent. I liked the plot, gentlemen, and I told him I was ready to carry it out, and be pleased to consider that there are not many women of my profession who would hesitate over a chance of getting five hundred sequins. Finding the scheme both agreeable and profitable, I promised to play my part with the greatest skill. The bargain was struck, and he gave me full instructions as to my dialogue. He told me that the Englishman could only talk about my convent and any lovers I might have had, that on the latter point I was to cut him short, and to answer with a laugh that I did not know what he was talking about, and even to tell him that I was a nun in appearance only, and that in the course of toying I might let him see my hair.  Yes, and the very nun he is amorous of, for he will have made up his mind that you cannot possibly be anyone else. Seizing the point of the jest, I did not take the trouble to find out the name of the nun I was to represent, nor the convent whence I was to come. The only thing in my head was the five hundred sequins. So little have I troubled about ought else that, though I passed a delicious night with you and found you rather worthy of being paid for than paying, I have not ascertained who and what you are, and I don't know at this moment to whom I am speaking. As you know what a night I had, I have told you it was delicious, and I was happy in the idea that I was going to have another. You have found everything out. I am sorry, but I am not afraid of anything, since I can put on any disguise I like, and can't prevent my lovers taking me for a saint if they'd like to do so. You have found weapons in my possession, but everyone is allowed to bear arms in self-defense. I plead not guilty on all counts. Do you know me, said I? No, but I have often seen you passing under my window. I live in St. Roche near the bridge. The way in which the woman told her yarn convinced us that she was an adept in the science of prostitution but we thought kept asfalo, in spite of the count worthy of the pillory. The girl was about ten years older than M.M. She was pretty, but like complexioned, while my beautiful nun had fine dark brown hair and was at least three inches taller. After twelve o'clock we sat down to supper and did honor to the excellent meal which my dear Antoinette had prepared for us. We were cruel enough to leave the poor wrench without offering her so much as a glass of wine, but we thought it our duty. While we were talking, the jolly Englishman made some witty comments on my eagerness to convince him that he had not enjoyed M.M.'s favors. I can't believe, said he, that you have shown so much interest without being in love with the divine nun. I answered by saying that if I were her lover I was much to be pitied in being condemned to go to the parlor and no farther. I would gladly give a hundred guineas a month, said he, to have the privilege of visiting her at the grading. So saying he gave me my hundred sequins complimenting me on my success and I slipped them forthwith into my pocket. At two o'clock in the morning we heard a soft knock on the street door. Here is our friend, I said, be discreet and you will see that he will make a full confession. He came in and saw Murray and the lady but did not discover that a third party was present till he heard the anti-room door being locked. He turned round and saw me, and as he knew me merely said without losing countenance. Ah, you are here, you know, of course, that the secret must be kept. Murray laughed and calmly asked him to be seated, and he inquired with the lady's pistols in his hands where he was going to take her before daybreak. Home. I think you may be mistaken as it is very possible that when you leave this place you will both of you be provided with a bed in prison. No, I am not afraid of that happening. The thing would make too much noise and the laugh would not be on your side.   Murray, seeing he had on a fine ring set with brilliance, praised it and showing some curiosity to see it more closely. He drew it off the fellow's finger, examined it, found it without flaw and asked how much it was worth. Capsa's follow, a little taken aback, said it cost him four hundred sequins. I will hold it as a pledge for that sum, said the ambassador, putting the ring into his pocket. The other looked chopfallen, and Murray laughing at his retiring manners told the girl to put on her cloak and to pack off with her worthy acolyte. She did so directly and with a low bow they disappeared. Farewell, none procurer, said the ambassador, but the count made no answer. As soon as they were gone I thanked Murray warmly for the moderation he had shown, as a scandal would have only injured three innocent people. Be sure, he said, that the guilty party shall be punished without anyone's knowing the reason. Then made Tonning come upstairs and my English friend offered her a glass of wine which she declined with much modesty and politeness. Murray looked at her with flaming glances and left after giving me his heartiest thanks. Poor little Tonning had been resigned and obedient for many hours, and she had good cause to think I had been unfaithful to her. However, I gave her the most unmistakable proofs of my fidelity. We stayed in bed for six hours and rose happy in the morning. After dinner I hurried off to my noble mm and told her the whole story. She listened eagerly, her various feelings flitting across her face, fear, anger, wrath, approval of my method of clearing up my natural suspicions, joy at discovering me still her lover, all were depicted in succession in her glance and in the play of her features and in the red and white which followed one another on her cheeks and forehead. She was delighted to hear that the masqueror, who was with me in the parlor, was the English ambassador, but she became nobly disdainful when I told her that he would gladly give a hundred guineas a month for the pleasure of visiting her in the parlor. She was angry with him for fancying that she had been in his power and for finding a likeness between her and a portrait when so she said there was no likeness at all. I had given her the portrait. She added with a shrewd smile that she was sure I had not let my little maid see the false none as she might have been mistaken. You know, do you, that I have a young servant? Yes, and a pretty one too. She is Laura's daughter, and if you love her I am very glad, and so is Cece. I hope you will let me have a sight of her. Cece has seen her before. As I saw that she knew too much for me to be able to deceive her, I took my cue directly and told her in detail the history of my amours. She showed her satisfaction too openly, not to be sincere. Before I left her, she said her honour obliged her to get Kepsisfalo assassinated for the wretch had wronged her beyond pardon. By way of quieting her I promised that if the ambassador did not rid us of him within the week I would charge myself with the execution of our common vengeance. About this time died Bragedon, the procurator, brother of my patron, leaving Monsieur de Bragedon sufficiently well off. However, as a family threatened to become extinct he desired a woman who had been his mistress and of whom he had had a natural son to become his wife. By this marriage the son would have become legitimate and the family renewed again. The College of Cardinals would have recognized the wife for a small fee and all would have gone admirably. The woman wrote to me, asking me to call on her, and I was going to, curious to know what a woman whom I did not know from Adam could want with me, when I received a summons from Monsieur de Bragedon. He begged me to ask Perales if he ought to follow De La Hay's advice in a matter he had promised not to confide to me, but of which the oracle must be informed. The oracle naturally opposed to the Jesuit, told him to consult his own feelings and nothing else. After this I went to the lady. She began by telling me the whole story. She introduced her son to me, and told me that if the marriage could be performed a deed would be delivered in my favor, by which at the death of Monsieur de Bragedon I should become entitled to an estate with five thousand crowns per annum. As I guessed without much trouble that this was the same matter which De La Hay had proposed to Monsieur de Bragedon I answered without hesitation, that since De La Hay was before me I could do nothing, and thereupon made her my bow. I could not help wondering at this Jesuit's continually intriguing to marry my old friends without my knowledge. Two years ago if I had not set my face against it he would have married Monsieur Dendolo. I cared not a whit whether the family of Bragedon became extinct or not, but I did care for the life of my benefactor, and was quite sure that marriage would shorten it by many years. He was already sixty-three, and had recovered from a serious apocalyptic stroke, and went to dine with Lady Murray, Englishwoman, who are daughters of lords, kept title. And after dinner the ambassador told me that he had told Monsieur Caverally the whole story of the false nun, and that the secretary had informed him the evening before that everything had been done to his liking. Compe Capsis Fallot had been sent to Cephalonia, his native country, with the order never to return to Venice, and the courtesan had disappeared. The fine part, or rather the fearful part about these sentences, is that no one ever knows the reason why or wherefore, and that the lot may fall on the innocent as well as the guilty. M. M. was delighted with the event, and I was more pleased than she, for I should have been sorry to have been obliged to soil my hands with the blood of that rascally count. There are seasons in the life of men which may be called fasty and nefasty. I have proved this often in my long career, and on the strength of the rubs and struggles I have had to encounter. I am able, as well as any man, to verify the truth of this axiom. I had just experienced a run of lot. Fortune had befriended me at play. I had been happy in the society of men, and from love I had nothing to ask. But now the reverse of the metal began to appear. Love was still kind, but fortune had quite left me, and you will soon see, reader, that men used me no better than the blind goddess. Nevertheless, since one's fate has phases as well as the moon, good follows evil as disasters succeed to happiness. I still played on the martingale, but with such bad luck that I was soon left without a sequin. As I shared my property with M.M., I was obliged to tell her of my losses, and it was at her request that I sold all her diamonds, losing what I got for them. She had now only five hundred sequins by her. There was no more talk of her escaping from the convent, for we had nothing to live on. I still gamed, but for small stakes, waiting for the slow return of good luck. One day the English ambassador, after giving me a supper at his casino, with the celebrated Fanny Murray, asked me to let him sup at my casino at Moran, which I now only kept up for the sake of Tony. I granted him the favor, but did not imitate his generosity. I found my little mistress smiling and polite, but always keeping within the balance of decency, from which he would have very willingly excused her. The next morning he wrote to me as follows, I am madly in love with Tony. If you like to hand her over to me, I will make the following provision for her. I will set her up in a suitable lodging, which I will furnish throughout, and which I will give to her with all its contents, provided that I may visit her whenever I please, and that she gives me all the rights of a fortunate lover. I will give her a maid, a cook, and thirty sequins a month as provision for two people, without reckoning the wine, which I will procure myself. Besides this, I will give her a life income of two hundred crowns per annum, over which she will have full control after living with me for a year. I give you a week to send your answer. I replied immediately that I would let him know in three days whether his proposal were accepted, for Tony had a mother of whom she was fond, and she would possibly not care to do anything without her consent. I also informed him that in all appearance the girl was with child. The business was an important one for Tony. I loved her, but I knew perfectly well that we could not pass the rest of our lives together. And I saw no prospect of being able to make her as good a provision as that offered by the ambassador. Consequently, I had no doubts on the question, and the very same day I went to Moran and told her all. You wish to leave me then? She said in tears. I love you, dearest, and what I propose ought to convince you of my love. Not so. I cannot serve two masters. You will only serve your new lover, sweetheart. I beg of you to reflect that you will have a fine dowry on the strength of which you may marry well, and on that, however much I love you, I cannot possibly make so good a provision for you. Leave me today for tears and reflection, and come to supper with me tomorrow. I did not fail to keep the appointment. I think your English friend is a very pretty man, she said, and when he speaks in the Venetian dialect, it makes me die with laughter. If my mother agrees, I might perhaps force myself to love him. Supposing we did not agree, we could part at the end of a year, and I should be the richer by an income of two hundred crowns. I am charmed with the sense of your arguments. Speak about it to your mother. I dare not, sweetheart. This kind of thing is too delicate to be discussed between a mother and her daughter. Speak to her yourself. I will, indeed. Laura, whom I had not seen since she had given me her daughter, asked for no time to think it over, but full of glee, told me that now her daughter would be able to soothe her declining years, and that she would leave Moran of which she was tired. She showed me a hundred and thirty sequins, which Tiny had gained in my service, and which she had placed in her hands. Barbarine, Tiny's younger sister, came to kiss my hand. I thought her charming, and I gave her all the silver in my pocket. I then left, telling Laura that I should expect her at my house. She soon followed me and gave her child a mother's blessing, telling her that she and her family could go and live in Venice for sixty sows a day. Tiny embraced her, and told her that she should have this important affair, having been managed to everybody's satisfaction. I went to see M.M., who came into the parlor, with C.C., whom I found looking sad, though prettier than ever. She was melancholy, but nonetheless tender. She could not stay for more than a quarter of an hour for fear of being seen, as she was forbidden ever to go into the parlor. I told M.M. the story of Tonine, who was going to live with Murray in Venice. She was sorry to hear it, for, she said, now that you have no longer any attraction at Moran, I shall see you less than ever. I promise to come and see her often. But vain promises. The time was near, which parted us forever. The same evening I went to tell the good news to my friend Murray. He was in a transport of joy, and begged me to come and stop with him at his casino the day after next, and to bring the girl with me, that the surrender might be made in form. I did not fail him, for once the matter was decided, I longed to bring it to an end. In my presence he assigned to her the yearly income for her life of two hundred Venetian do-cats, and by a second deed he gave her all the contents of the house with which he was going to provide her, provided always that she lived with him for a year. He allowed her to receive me as a friend, also to receive her mother and sisters, and she was free to go and see them when she would. Tonine threw her arms about his neck and assured him that she would endeavor to please him to the utmost of her ability. I will see him, she said, pointing to me, but as his friend he shall have nothing more from me. Throughout this truly affecting scene she kept back her tears, but I could not conceal mine. Murray was happy, but I was not long a witness of his good fortune, the reason of which I will explain a little later. Three days afterwards, Muar came to me, told me that she was living in Venice, and asked me to take her to her daughters. I owed this woman too much to refuse her, and I took her there forthwith. Tonine gave thanks to God, and also to me and her mother took up the song, for they were not quite sure whether they were more indebted to God or to me. Tonine was eloquent in her praise of Murray, and made no complaint at my not having come to see her, at which I was glad. As I was going, Muar asked me to take her back in my gondola, and as we had to pass by the house in which she lived, she begged me to come in for a moment, and I could not hurt her feelings by refusing. I owe it to my honor to remark there that I was thus polite about thinking that I should see Barbarine again. This girl is pretty as her sister, though in another style, began by awakening my curiosity, a weakness which usually renders the profligate man in constant. If all women were to have the same features, the same disposition, and the same manners, men would not only never be in constant, but would never be in love. Under that state of things, one would choose a wife by instinct, and keep her till death, but our world would then be under a different system to the present. Novelty is the master of the soul. We know that what we do not see is very nearly the same as what we have seen, but we are curious. We like to be quite sure. And to attain our ends, we give ourselves as much trouble as if we were certain of finding some prize beyond compare. Barbarine, who looked upon me as an old friend, for her mother had accustomed her to kiss my hand whenever I went there, who had undressed more than once in my presence without troubling about me, who knew I had made her sister's fortune, and a family fortune as well, and thought herself prettier than Tani because her skin was fairer, and because she had fine black eyes, desiring to take her sister's place, knew that to succeed she must take me by storm. Her common sense told her that as I hardly ever came to the house, I should not be likely to become amorous of her unless she won me by storm. And to this end, she showed the utmost complacence when she had the chance so that I won her without any difficulty. All this reasoning came from her own head. For I am sure her mother gave her no instructions. Laura was a mother of a kind common the world over, but especially in Italy. She was willing to take advantage of the earnings of her daughters. But she would never have induced them to take the path of evil. There her virtue stopped short. After I had inspected her two rooms, and her little kitchen, and had admired the cleanness which shewn all around, Barbarine asked me if I would like to see her small garden. With pleasure, I replied, for a garden is a rarity in Venice. Her mother told her to give me some figs if there were any right ones. The garden consisted of about 30 square feet and grew only salad herbs and a fine fig tree. It had not a good crop, and I told her that I could not see any figs. I can see some at the top, said Barbarine, and I will gather them if you will hold me the ladder. Yes, climb away, I will hold it quite firmly. She stepped up lightly and stretching out an arm to get at some figs to one side of her. She put her body off its balance, holding on to the ladder with the other hand. My dear Barbarine, what do you think I can see, what you have often seen with my sister? That's true, but you are prettier than she is. The girl made no reply. But as if she could not reach the fruit, she put her foot on a high branch and spewed me the most seductive picture. I was an ecstasy, and Barbarine, who saw it, did not hurry herself. At last I helped her to come down, and letting my hand wander indiscreetly, I asked her if the fruit I held had been plucked, and she kept me a long time telling me it was quite fresh. I took her within my arms, and already her captive, I pressed her armorsly to my heart, printing on her lips a fiery kiss, which she gave me back with as much odor. Will you give me what I have caught, dearest?   When speech like this proceeds from a mouth still innocent, the man to whom it is addressed, ought to be happy for desires, arbut pain, and torment. An enjoyment is sweet because it delivers us from them. This shows that those who prefer a little resistance to an easy conquest are in the wrong, but a too easy conquest often points to a depraved nature. And this men do not like, however depraved they themselves may be.  I gave the dear girl ten sequins, and I went away congratulating myself, but cursing my luck at not being able to make as good provision for Barbarine as Murray had made for her sister. Towneen had told me that for matters sake, I should sup once with her. I went the same evening and found Regalini and Murray there. The supper was delicious, and I was delighted with the excellent understanding the two lovers had already come to. I complimented the ambassador on the loss of one of his tastes, and he told me he should be very sorry at such a loss, as it would warm him of his declining powers. But said I, you used to like to perform the mysterious sacrifice of love without avail. It was not I, but Ancilia, who liked it. And as I preferred pleasing her to pleasing myself, I gave in to her taste without any difficulty. I'm delighted with your answer. As I confessed it would cost me something to be the witness of your exploits with Towneen. Having casually remarked that I had no longer a house in Moran, Regalini told me that if I liked he could get me a delightful house at a low rent on the Tondement Moavo. As this quarter facing north, and as agreeable in summers disagreeable in winter was opposite to Moran, where I should have to go twice a week. I told the doctor I should be glad to look at the house. I took leave of the rich and fortunate ambassador at midnight. Before passing the day with my new prize, I went to sleep so as to be fresh and capable of running a good course. I went to Barberine in an early hour. And as soon as she saw me, she said my mother will not be back till evening and my brother will take his dinner at the school. Here is a foul, a ham, some cheese and two bottles of scolpola wine. We will take our mess whenever you'd like. He astonished me, sweetheart, for how did you manage to get such a good dinner? We owe it to my mother. So to her be the praise. You have told her then what we are going to do? No, not I, for I know nothing about it. But I told her you were coming to see me, and at the same time I gave her the ten sequence. And what did your mother say? She said she wouldn't be sorry if you were to love me as you loved my sister. I love you better, though I love her well. You love her? Why have you left for them? I have not left her for we subbed together yesterday evening. But we no longer live together as lovers. That is all. I have yielded her up to a rich friend of mine, who has made her a fortune. That is well, though I don't understand much about these affairs. I help you tell Tonning that I have taken her place, and I should be very pleased if you would let her know that you are quite sure you are my first lover. And supposing the news vexes her. So much the better. Will you do it for me? It's the first favor I have asked of you. I promise to do so. After this rapid dialogue we took breakfast and then perfectly agreed, we went to bed rather as if we were about to sacrifice to Hyman than to love. The game was new to Barbraine, and her transports her green notions, which she told me openly, her inexperience or rather her awkwardness, enchanted me. I seemed for the first time to pluck the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and never had I tasted fruit so delicious. My little maid would have been ashamed to let me see how the first thorn hurt her, and to convince me that she only smelt the rose she strove to make me think she experienced more pleasure than is possible in a first trial, always more or less painful. She was not yet a big girl, the roses on her swelling breasts were as yet but buds, and she was a woman only in her heart. After more than one assault delivered and sustained with spirit, we got up for dinner, and after we had refreshed ourselves, we mounted once more the altar of love, where we remained till evening. Laura found us dressed and well pleased with each other on her return. I made Barbraine another present of twenty sequins. I swore to love her always and went on my way. At the first time I certainly meant to keep to my oath, but that which destiny had in store for me could not be reconciled with these promises which well forth from my soul in a moment of excitement. The next morning Rigolini took me to see the lodging he had spoken to me about. I liked it and took it on the spot, paying the first quarter in advance. The house belonged to a widow with two daughters, the elder of whom had just been blooded. Rigolini was her doctor and had treated her for nine months without success. As he was going to pay her a visit, I went in with him and found myself in the presence of a fine waxing statue. Surprise Jew for me, these words. She is pretty, but the sculptor should have given her some color, on which the statue smiled in a manner which would have been charming if her lips had but been red. Her pallor, said Rigolini, will not astonish you when I tell you she has just been blooded for the hundred and fourth time. I gave a very natural gesture of surprise. This fine girl had attained the age of eighteen without experiencing the monthly relief afforded by nature, the result being she felt a deathly faintness three or four times a week and the only relief was to open the vein. I want to send her to the country, said the doctor, where pure and wholesome air and above all more exercise will do her more good than all the drugs in the world. After I had been told that my bed should be made ready by the evening, I went away with Rigolini, who told me that the only cure for the girl would be a good, strong lover. But my dear doctor, said I, can't you make your own prescription? That would be too risky a game for I might find myself compelled to marry her, and I hate marriage like the devil. Though I was no better inclined towards marriage than the doctor, I was too near the fire not to get burnt, and the reader will see in the next chapter how I performed the miraculous cure of bringing the colors of health into the cheeks of this hallowed beauty. Chapter 25 of the Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Vol. 2 This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Vol. 2, Paris and Prison by Jacques Casanova, translated by Arthur Machin. Chapter 25 The Fair Invalid. I cure her. A plot formed to ruin me. What happened at the house of the young Countess Bonafide? The Erebria. Domiciliary visit. My conversation with Monsieur de Brageden. I am arrested by the order of the state inquisitors. After leaving Dr. Rigolini, I went to sup with Monsieur de Brageden, and gave the generous and worthy old man a happy evening. This was always the case. I made him and his two good friends happy whenever I took meals with them. Leaving them at an early hour, I went to my lodging, and was greatly surprised to find my bedroom balcony occupied. A young lady of an exquisite figure rose as soon as she saw me, and gracefully asked me pardon for the liberty she had taken. I am, she said. The statue you saw this morning. We do not light the candles in the evening for a fear of attracting the gnats.  I beg to introduce you to my younger sister. My mother has gone to bed. I answered her to the effect that the balcony was always at her service, and that, since it was still early, I begged their permission to put on my dressing gown and to keep them company. Her conversation was charming. She made me spend two most delightful hours, and did not leave me till twelve o'clock. Her younger sister lighted me a candle, and, as they went, they wished me a good night. I laid down, full of this pretty girl, and I could not believe that she was really ill. She spoke to the point. She was cheerful, clever, and full of spirits. I could not understand how it came to pass that she had not been already cured in a town like Venice, if her cure was really only to be affected in the manner described by Dr. Rigolini. For, in spite of her pallor, she seemed to me quite fair enough to charm a lover, and I believed her to be spirited enough to determine to take the most agreeable medicine a doctor could prescribe. In the morning I rang the bell as I was getting up, and the younger sister came into my room, and said that as they kept no servant she came to do what I wanted. I did not care to have a servant when I was not at M. de Bragedens, as I found myself more at liberty to do what I liked. After she had done me some small services I asked her how her sister was. Very well, said she, for her pale complexion is not an illness, and she only suffers when her breath fails her. She has a very good appetite, and sleeps as well as I do. Whom do I hear playing the violin? It is the dancing master, giving my sister a lesson. I hurried over my dressing that I might see her, and I found her charming, though her old dancing master allowed her to turn in her toes. All this young and beautiful girl wanted was the Promethean spark, the color of life. Her whiteness was too like snow, and was distressing to look at. The dancing master begged me to dance a minuet with his pupil, when I assented, asking him to play l'aghissimo. The Signorina will find it too tiring, said he, but she hastened to answer that she did not feel weak, and would like to dance thus. She danced very well, but when we had done she was obliged to throw herself in a chair. In the future, my dear master, said she, I will only dance like that, for I think the rapid motion would do me good. When the master was gone, I told her that her lesson was too short, and that her master was letting her get into bad habits. I then set her feet, her shoulders, and her arms in the proper manner. I taught her how to give her hand gracefully, to bend her knees in time. In fine I gave her a regular lesson for over an hour, and seeing that she was getting rather tired I begged her to sit down, and I went out to pay a visit to M. M. I found her very sad, for C. C.'s father was dead, and they had taken her out of the convent to marry her to a lawyer. Before leaving, C. C. had left a letter for me, in which she said that if I would promise to marry her at some time suitable to myself, she would wait for me, and refuse all other offers. I answered her straightforwardly that I had no property, and no prospects, that I left her free, advising her not to refuse any offer that might be to her advantage. In spite of this dismissal, C. C. did not marry Anne, till after my flight from the Leeds, when nobody expected to see me again in Venice. I did not see her for nineteen years, and then I was grieved to find her a widow, and poorly off. If I went to Venice now, I should not marry her, for in my age marriage is an absurdity, but I would share with her my little all, and live with her as with a dear sister. When I hear women talking about the bad faith and inconstancy of men, and maintaining that when men make promises of eternal constancy they are always deceivers, I confess that they are right, and join in their complaints. Still, it cannot be helped, for the promises of lovers are dictated by the heart, and consequently the lamentations of women only want to make me laugh, alas we love without heeding reason, and cease to love in the same manner. About this time I received a letter from the Abbey de Bruny, who wrote also to M. M. He told me that I ought to do my utmost to make our nun take a reasonable view of things, dwelling on the risks I should run in carrying her off and bringing her to Paris, where all his influence would be of no avail to obtain for us that safety so indispensable to happiness. I saw M. M. We showed each other our letters. She had some bitter tears, and her grief pierced me to the heart. I still had a great love for her in spite of my daily infidelities, and when I thought of those moments in which I had seen her given over to voluptuousness, I could not help pitying her fate, as I thought of the days of despair and store for her. But soon after this an event happened which gave rise to some wholesome reflections. One day, when I had come to see her, she said, They have just been burying a nun who died of consumption the day before yesterday in the odor of sanctity. She was called Maria Conqueta. She knew you, and told, See, see your name when you used to come to Mass on feast days. See, see begged her to be discreet. But the nun told her that you were a dangerous man whose presence should be shunned by a young girl. See, see, told me all this after the mask of Perille. What is this saint's name when she was in the world? Martha. I know her. I then told M. M. the whole history of my loves with Nanette and Marton, ending with the letter she wrote me, in which she said that she owed me indirectly that eternal salvation to which she hoped to obtain. In eight or ten days my conversation with my hostess's daughter, conversation that took place on the balcony, in which generally lasted till midnight, and the lesson I gave her every morning produced the inevitable and natural results. Firstly, that she no longer complained of her breath failing, and secondly that I fell in love with her. Nature's cure had not yet relieved her, but she no longer needed to be let blood. Rigolini came to visit her as usual, and seeing that she was better he prophesied that Nature's remedy, without which only art could keep her alive, would make all right before the autumn. Her mother looked upon me as an angel sent by God to cure her daughter. Who, for her part, showed me that gratitude, with which women is the first step towards love. I had made her dismiss her old dancing master, and I taught her to dance with extreme grace.  I was alarmed, but her mother, who had become accustomed to see her thus, sent for the surgeon, and her sister unlaced her. I was enchanted by her exquisite bosom, which needed no coloring to make it more beautiful. I covered it up, saying that the surgeon would make a false stroke if he were to see her thus uncovered. But feeling that I laid my hand upon her with delight, she gently repulsed me, looking at me with a languishing gaze that made the deepest impression on me. The surgeon came and bled her in the arm, and almost instantaneously she recovered full consciousness. At most only four ounces of blood were taken from her, and her mother telling me that this was the utmost extent to which she was bleeding. I saw that it was no such matter for wonder as Rigolini represented it. For being blooded twice a week, she lost three pounds of blood a month, which she would have done naturally if the vessels had not been obstructed. The surgeon had hardly gone out of the door, went to my astonishment. She told me that if I would wait for her a moment, she would come back and begin her dancing. This she did, and danced as if there had been nothing to matter. Her bosom, on which two of my senses were qualified to give evidence, was the last stroke, and made me madly in love with her. I returned to the house in the evening and found her in my room with the sister. She told me that she was expecting her godfather, who was an intimate friend of her father's, and had come every evening to spend an hour with her the last eighteen years. How old is he? He is over fifty. Is he a married man? Yes, his name is Count S. He is as fond of me as a father would be, and his affection has continued the same since my childhood. Even his wife comes to see me sometimes, and to ask me to dinner. Neat autumn, I am going into the country with her, and I hope the fresh air will do me good. My godfather knows you are staying with us, and is satisfied. He does not know you, but if you like you can make his acquaintance. I was glad to hear all this, as I gained a good deal of useful information without having to ask her any awkward questions. The friendship of this Greek was very like love. He was the husband of Count S., who had taken me to the convent of Moran two years before. I found the Count a very polite man. He thanked me in a paternal manner for the kindness to his daughter, and begged me to do him the honor of dining with him on the following day, telling me that he would introduce me to his wife. I accepted his invitation with pleasure, for I was fond of dramatic situations, and my meeting with the Countess promised to be an exciting one. This invitation bespoke the courteous gentleman, and I charmed my pretty pupil by singing his praises after he had gone. My godfather, said she, is in possession of all the necessary documents for withdrawing from the house of Pariscoe, our family fortune, which amounts to forty thousand crowns. A quarter of this sum belongs to me, and my mother has promised my sister and myself to share her dowry between us. I concluded from this that she would bring her husband fifteen thousand Venetian dukots. I guess that she was appealing to me with her fortune, and wish to make me in love with her by showing herself cherry of her favors. For whatever I allowed myself, any small liberties, she checked me with words, of remonstrants to which I could find no answer. I determined to make her pursue another course. Next day I took her with me to her godfathers, without telling her that I knew the Countess. I fancied the lady would pretend not to know me, but I was wrong, and she welcomed me in the handsomest manner as if I were an old friend. This, no doubt, was a surprise for the Count, but he was too much a man of the world to show any astonishment. He asked her when she had made my acquaintance, and she, like a woman of experience, answered without the slightest hesitation that we had seen each other two years ago at Mira. The matter was settled, and we spent a very pleasant day. Towards evening I took the young lady among Gandola back to the house, but wishing to shorten the journey I allowed myself to indulge in a few caresses. I was hurt at being responded to by reproaches, and for that reason as soon as she set foot on her own doorstep, instead of gutting out I went to Tonine's house, and spent nearly the whole night there with the ambassador, who had come a little after me. Next day, as I did not get up till quite late, there was no dancing lesson, and when I excused myself she told me not to trouble any more about it. In the evening I sat on the balcony far into the night, but she did not come. Vexed at this air of indifference I rose early in the morning, and went out, not returning till nightfall. She was on the balcony, but as she kept me at a respectful distance I only talked to her on common-place subjects. In the morning I was roused by a tremendous noise. I got up, and hurriedly putting on my dressing-gown ran into her room to see what was the matter, only to find her dying. I had no need to feign an interest in her, for I felt the most tender concern. As it was at the beginning of July it was extremely hot, and my fair invalid was only covered by a thin sheet. She would only speak to me with her eyes, but though the lids were lowered she looked upon me so lovingly. I asked her if she suffered from palpitations, and laying my hand upon her, her heart, I pressed a fiery kiss to her breast. This was the electric spark, for she gave a sigh which did her good. She had not the strength to repulse the hand which I pressed amorously upon her heart, and becoming bolder I fastened my burning lips upon her languid mouth. I warmed her with my breath and my audacious hand, penetrated to the very sanctuary of bliss. She made an effort to push me back, and told me with her eyes since she could not speak how insulted she felt. I drew back my hand, and at that moment the surgeon came. Hardly was the vein opened when she drew a long breath, and by the time the operation was over she wished to get up. I entreated her to stay in bed, and her mother added her voice to mine. At last I persuaded her, telling her that I would not leave her for a second, and that I would have my dinner by her bedside. She then put on a corset, and asked her sister to draw a sarcanette coverlet over her, as her limbs could be seen as plainly as through a crepe veil. Having given orders for my dinner, I sat down by her bedside, burning with love, and taking her hand and covering it with kisses. I told her that I was sure she would get better if she would let herself love. Alas! she said, Whom shall I love, not knowing whether I shall be loved in return? I did not leave this question unanswered, and continuing the amorous discourse with animation I won of sigh, and a lovelorn glance.  But little by little I attained the center, and strove to give her some pleasant sensations. Let me alone, said she, in a sentimental voice, drawing away, tis per chance the cause of my illness. No, sweetheart, I replied, there cannot be, and my mouth stopped all her objections upon her lips. I was enchanted, for I was now in a fair way, and I saw the moment of bliss in the distance, feeling certain that I could affect a cure if the doctor was not mistaken. I spared all her indiscreet questions out of regard for her modesty, but I declared myself her lover, promising to ask nothing of her but what was necessary to feed the fire of my love. They set me up a very good dinner, and she did justice to it, afterwards saying that she was quite well, she got up, and I went away to dress myself for going out. I came back early in the evening, and found her on the balcony. There, as I sat close to her, looking into her face, speaking by turns the language of the eyes, and that of sighs, fixing my amorous gaze upon those charms which the moonlight rendered sweeter, I made her share in the fire which consumed me, and as I pressed her amorously to my bosom, she completed my bliss, with such warmth, that I could easily see that she thought she was receiving a favor, and not granting one. I sacrificed the victim, without staining the altar with blood. Her sister came to tell her that it grew late. "'Do you go to bed?' she answered. The fresh air is doing me good, and I want to enjoy it longer. As soon as we were alone we went to bed together, as if we had been doing it for a whole year, and passed. And we passed a glorious night, eye full of love and the desire of curing her, and she of tender and ardent voluptuousness. At daybreak she embraced me, her eyes dewy with bliss, and went to lie down in her own bed. I, like her, stood in need of a rest, and on that day there was no talk of a dancing lesson. In spite of the fierce pleasure of enjoyment and the trance points of this delightful girl, I did not for a moment lay prudence aside. We continued to pass such nights as these for three weeks, and I had the pleasure of seeing her thoroughly cured. I should doubtless have married her, if an event had not happened to me towards the end of the month, of which I shall speak lower down. "'You will remember,' dear reader, about a romance by the Abbey Chiari, a satirical romance which Mr. Murray had given me, and in which I fared badly enough at the author's hands, I had a small reason to be pleased with him, and I let him know my opinion in such wise that the Abbey, who dreaded a caning, kept upon his guard. About the same time I received an anonymous letter, the writer of which told me that I should be better occupied in taking care of myself than in thoughts of chastising the Abbey, for I was threatened by an imminent danger. Anonymous letter writers should be held in contempt, but one ought to know how, on occasion, to make the best advice given in that way. I did nothing, and made a great mistake. About the same time a man, named Manuzzi, a stone setter for his first trade, and also a spy, a vile agent of the state inquisitors, a man of whom I knew nothing, found a way to make my acquaintance by offering to let me have diamonds on credit, and by this means he got entry to my house. As he was looking at some books scattered here and there about the room, he stopped short at the manuscripts which were on magic. Enjoying, foolishly enough, his look of astonishment, I showed him the books which teach one how to summon the elementary spirits. My readers will, I hope, do me the favor to believe that I put no faith in these conjuring books, but I had them by me, and used to amuse myself with them, as one does amuse oneself with the multitudinous follies which proceed from the heads of visionaries. A few days after the traitor came to see me, and told me that a collector, whose name he might not tell me, was ready to give me a thousand sequins for my five books, but that he would like to examine them first to see if they were genuine. As he promised to let me have them back in twenty-four hours, and not thinking much about the matter, I let him have them. He did not fail to bring them back the next day, telling me that the collectors thought them forgeries. I found out some years after that he had taken them to the state inquisitors, who thus discovered that I was a notable magician.  The matter was a serious one, and an auto-defeat was very possible, as it came under the jurisdiction of the Holy Office. A kind of wild beast with which it is not good to quarrel. Nevertheless, as there would be some difficulty in shutting me up in the ecclesiastical prisons of the Holy Office, it was determined to carry my case before the state inquisitors, who took upon them the provincial duty of putting a watch upon my manner of living. Monsieur Anthony Condumere, who was a friend of Abbey Chiaris, was an enemy of mine, was then an inquisitor of state, and he took the opportunity of looking upon me in the light of a disturber of the peace of the Commonwealth. A secretary of an embassy, whom I knew some years after, told me that a paid informer, with two other witnesses also, doubtless in the pay of this grand tribunal, had declared that I was guilty of only believing in the devil, as if this absurd belief, if it were possible, did not necessarily connote a belief in God. These three honest fellows testified with an oath, that when I had lost money at play, on which occasion, all the faithful are want to blaspheme, I was never heard to curse the devil. I was further accused of eating meat all the year round, and of only going to hear fine masses, and I was vehemently suspected of being a freemason. It was added that I frequented the Society of Foreign Ministers, and that living as I did, with three noblemen, it was certain that I revealed, for the large sums which I was seen to lose, as many state secrets as I could worm out of them. All these acquisitions, not of which had any foundation effect, served the tribunal as a pretext to treat me as an enemy of the Commonwealth, and as a prime conspirator. For several weeks, I was counseled by persons whom I might have trusted, to go abroad whilst the tribunal was engaged on my case. This should have been enough, for the only people that can live in peace at Venice are those whose existence the tribunal is ignorant of. But I obstinately despised all these hints. If I had listened to the indirect advice which was given me, I should have become anxious, and I was a sworn foe of all anxiety. I kept saying to myself, I feel remorse for nothing, and I am therefore guilty of nothing, and the innocent have nothing to fear. I was a fool, for I argued as if I had been a free man in a free country. I must also confess that what, to a great extent, kept me from thinking of possible misfortune, was the actual misfortune which oppressed me from morning to night. I lost every day. I owed money everywhere. I had pawned all my jewels, and even my portrait cases, taking the precaution, however, of removing the portraits, which with my important papers and my amorous letters I had placed in the hands of Madame Manzoni, I found myself avoided in society. An old senator told me, one day, that it was known that the young Countess Bonafide had become mad in consequence of the love-filters I had given her.  I must let the readers into the secret of this small history. This young Countess Bonafide, of whom I had given some sequins a few days after my return to Venice, thought herself capable of making me continue my visits, from which she had profited largely. Worried by her letters, I went to see her several times, and always left her a few sequins. But with the exception of my first visit I was never polite enough to give her proofs of my affection. My coldness had balked all her endeavors for a year, when she had played a criminal part of which, although I was never able absolutely to convict her, I had every reason to believe her guilty. She wrote me a letter in which she importuned me to come and see her at a certain hour on important business. My curiosity, as well as a desire to be of service to her, took me there at the appointed time. But as soon as she saw me she flung her arms above my neck and told me that the important business was love. This made me laugh heartily, and I was pleased to find her looking neater than usual, which doubtless made me find her looking prettier. She reminded me of St. Andre, and succeeded so well in her efforts that I was on the point of satisfying her desires. I took off my cloak and asked her if her father were in. She told me he had gone out. Being obliged to go out for a minute, in coming back I mistook the door, and I found myself in the next room, where I was much astonished to see the Count and two villainous-looking fellows with him. My dear Count, I said, your daughter has just told me that you are out. I myself told her to do so, as I have some business with these gentlemen, which, however, can wait for another day. I would have gone but he stopped me, and having dismissed the two men, he told me that he was delighted to see me, and forthwith began the tale of his troubles, which were of more than one kind. The state inquisitors had stopped his slender penchant, and he was on the eve of seeing himself driven out with his family unto the streets to beg his bread. He said he had not been able to pay his landlord anything for three years, but if he could pay only a quarter's rent, he would obtain a respite, or if he persisted in turning him out, he could make a night flitting of it, and to take up a boat somewhere else. As he only wanted twenty dukots, I took out six sequins and gave them to him. He embraced me, and shed tears of joy. Then, taking his poor cloak, he called his daughter, told her to keep me company, and went out. Alone with the countess, I examined the door of communication between the two rooms, and found it slightly open. Your father, I said, would have surprised me, and it is easy to guess that what he would have done with those two subriory who were with him, the plot is clear, and I have only escaped from it by the happiest of chances. She denied, wept, called God to witness, threw herself on her knees, but I turned my head away, and taking my cloak went away without a word. She kept on writing to me, but her letters remained unanswered, and I saw her no more. It was summertime, and between the heat, her passions, hunger, and wretchedness, her head was turned, and she became so mad that she went out of the house stark naked, ran up and down St. Peter's asking those who stopped her to take her to my house. This sad story went all over the town, and caused me a great deal of annoyance. The poor wretch was set to an asylum, and did not recover her reason for five years. When she came out she found herself reduced to beg her bread in the streets, like all her brothers, except one whom I found at Cadet in the guards of the King of Spain, twelve years afterwards. At the time of which, I am speaking, all this happened a year ago, but the story was dug up against me, and dressed out in the attire of fiction, and thus formed part of those clouds which were to discharge their thunder upon me to my destruction. In the July of 1755 the hateful Count gave Messier Grande instructions to secure me alive or dead. In this furious style all orders for arrests proceeding from the three were issued, for the least of their commands carried with it the penalty of death. Three or four days before the Feast of St. James, my patron saint, M. M., made me a present of several Elves of Silver Lace to trim a sarkinette dress, which I was going to wear on the eve of the feast. I went to see her dressed in my fine suit, and I told her that I should come again on the day, following, to ask her to lend me some money, as I did not know where to turn to find some. She was still in possession of the five hundred sequins which she had put aside when I sold her diamonds. As I was sure of getting the money in the morning, I passed the night at play, and I lost the five hundred sequins in advance. At daybreak, being in need of a little quiet, I went to the Ereberia, the space of ground on the quay of the Grand Canal. There is held the herb, fruit, and flower market. People in good society, who come to walk in their Ereberia at a rather early hour, usually say that they come to see the hundreds of boats laden with vegetables, fruits, and flowers, which hail from the numerous islands near the town. But everyone knows that there are men and women who have been spending the night in the excesses of Venus or Bacchus, or who have lost all hope at the gaming table and have come here to breathe a purer air and to calm their minds. The fashion of walking in this place shows how the character of the nation changes. The Venetians of old, who made, as great a mystery of love as of state affairs, have been replaced by the modern Venetians, whose most prominent characteristic is to make a mystery of nothing. Those who come to the Ereberia with women wish to excite the envy of their friends by thus publishing their good fortune. Those who come alone are on the watch for discoveries, or on the lookout for materials to make wives or husbands jealous. The women only come to be seen, glad to let everybody know, that they are without any restraint upon their actions. There was certainly no question of smartness there, considering the disordered style of dress worn. The women seem to have agreed to show all the signs of disorder imaginable, to give those who saw them something to talk about. As for the men, on whose arms they leaned, their careless and lounging errors were attended to give the idea of a surfeit of pleasure, and to make one think that the disordered appearance of their companions was a sure triumph they had enjoyed. In short, it was the correct thing to look tired out, as if one stood in need of sleep. This voracious description, reader, will not give you a very high opinion of the morals of my dear fellow-citizens. But what object should I have at my age for deceiving? Venice is not at the world's end, but is well enough known to those whose curiosity brings them into Italy, and everyone can see for himself if my pictures are overdrawn. After walking up and down for half an hour I came away, and thinking the whole house still a bed, I drew my key out to open the door. But what was my astonishment to find it useless? As the door was open, and what is more, the lock burst out. I ran upstairs and found them all up, and my landlady, uttering birder lamentations. Miss Sia Grande, she told me, has entered my house forcibly, accompanied by a band of Siberi. He turned everything upside down on the pretext that he was in search of a portmanteau full of salt, a highly contraband article. He said he knew that a portmanteau had been landed there the evening before, which was quite true, but it belonged to Count S, and it only contained linen in clothes. Miss Sia Grande, after inspecting it, went out without saying a word. He had also paid my room a visit. She told me that she must have some reparation made her, and thinking that she was in the right, I promised to speak to Miss Giordia Bragedon on the manor the same day. Needing rest above all things I laid down, but my nervous excitement, which I attributed to my heavy losses at play, made me rise after three or four hours, and I went to see Miss Giordia Bragedon, to whom I told the whole story, begging him to press for some signal amends. I made a very lively representation to him of all the grounds on which my landlady required proportionate amends to be made, since the laws guaranteed the peace of all law-abiding people. I saw that the three friends were greatly saddened by what I said, and the wise old man, quietly, but sadly, told me that I should have my answer after dinner. De La Haye dined with us, but all through the meal, which was a melancholy one, he spoke not a word. His silence should have told me all, if I had not been under the influence of some malevolent genie, who would not allow me to exercise my common sense. As to the sorrow of my three friends, I put that down to their friendship for me. My connection with these worthy men had always been the talk of the town, and as all were agreed that it could not be explained on natural grounds, it was deemed to be the effect of some sorcery exercised by me. These three men were thoroughly religious and virtuous citizens. I was nothing if not irreligious, and Venice did not contain a greater libertine. Virtue, it was said, must have compassion on vice, but cannot become its friend. After dinner, Monsieur de Bragedin took me into his closet with his two friends, from whom he had no secrets. He told me with wonderful calmness, that instead of meditating vengeance on Messier Grande, I should be thinking of putting myself in a place of safety. The potmanteau, said he, was a mere pretext. It was you they wanted, and thought to find. Since your good genius has made them miss you, look out for yourself. Perhaps by tomorrow it may be too late. I have been a state inquisitor for eight months, and I know the way in which the arrest ordered by the courts are carried out. They would not break open a door to look for a box of salt. Indeed, it is possible that they knew you were out, and sought to warn you indirectly in this manner. Take my advice, my dear son, and set out directly for Fusina, and thence as quickly as you can make your way to Florence, where you can remain till I write you that you may return with safety. If you have no money I will give you one hundred sequins for present expenses. Give me that prudence bids you go. Blinded by my folly, I answered him that being guilty of nothing, I had nothing to fear, and that consequently, although I knew his advice was good, I could not follow it. The High Court, said he, may doom you guilty of crimes real or imaginary, but in any case it will give you no account of the accusations against you. Ask your oracle if you should follow my advice or not. I refused because I knew the folly of such a proceeding, but my way of excuse I said that I only consulted it when I was in doubt. Finally, I reasoned that if I fled I should be showing fear, and thus confessing my guilt, for an innocent man feeling no remorse cannot reasonably be afraid of anything. If secrecy, said I, is the essence of the court, you cannot possibly judge, after my escape, whether I have done so rightly or wrongly. The same reasons which according to your excellence bid me go, would forbid me return. Must I then say good-bye forever to my country, and all that is dear to me? As a last resource he tried to persuade me to pass the following day and night, at least at the palace.  For the palace of a noble is sacred to the police who dare not cross his threshold without a special order from the Tribunal, which is practically never given. By yielding to his request I should have avoided a grievous misfortune, and spared the worthy old man some acute grief. I was moved to see Monsieur de Braguet in weeping, and perhaps I might have granted to his tears that which I had obstinately refused to his arguments and entreaties. For heaven's sakes, said I, spare me this harrowing sight of your tears. In an instant he summoned all his strength to his assistance, and made some indifferent remarks. And then with a smile full of good nature he embraced me, saying, Perhaps I may be fated never to see you again. But Fatah viam in veneet. I embraced him affectionately, and one away. But his prediction was verified, for I never saw him again. He died eleven years afterwards. I found myself in the street without feeling the slightest fear. But I was in a good deal of trouble about my debts. I had not the heart to go to Moran to take away from M.M. her last five hundred sequins, which some I owed to the man who won it from me in the night. I preferred asking him to wait eight days, and I did so. After performing this unpleasant piece of business I returned home, and having consoled my landlady to the utmost of my power, I kissed the daughter and lay down to sleep. The date was July 25th, 1755. Next morning at daybreak, who should enter my room but the awful Monsieur Grande. To awake, to see him, to hear him asking if I were Jacques Casanova was the work of a moment. At my, yes, I am Casanova. He told me to rise and to put all my clothes, to give him all the papers and manuscripts of my possession, and to follow him. On whose authority do you order me to do this? By the authority of the Tribunal.