VENICE - Chapter XIII
Continuation of My Intrigues with C. C.--M. de Bragadin Asks the Hand
of That Young Person for Me--Her Father Refuses, and Sends Her to a
Convent--De la Haye -I Lose All my Money at the Faso-table--My
Partnership with Croce Replenishes My Purse--Various Incidents
The happiness derived from my love had prevented me from attaching
any importance to my losses, and being entirely engrossed with the
thought of my sweetheart my mind did not seem to care for whatever
did not relate to her.
I was thinking of her the next morning when her brother called on me
with a beaming countenance, and said,
"I am certain that you have slept with my sister, and I am very glad
of it. She does not confess as much, but her confession is not
necessary. I will bring her to you to-day."
"You will oblige me, for I adore her, and I will get a friend of mine
to ask her in marriage from your father in such a manner that he will
not be able to refuse."
"I wish it may be so, but I doubt it. In the mean time, I find
myself compelled to beg another service from your kindness. I can
obtain, against a note of hand payable in six months, a ring of the
value of two hundred sequins, and I am certain to sell it again this
very day for the same amount. That sum, is very necessary to me just
now, but the jeweller, who knows you, will not let me have it without
your security. Will you oblige me in this instance? I know that you
lost a great deal last night; if you want some money I will give you
one hundred sequins, which you will return when the note of hand
falls due."
How could I refuse him? I knew very well that I would be duped, but
I loved his sister so much:
"I am ready," said I to him, "to sign the note of hand, but you are
wrong in abusing my love for your sister in such a manner."
We went out, and the jeweller having accepted my security the bargain
was completed. The merchant, who knew me only by name, thinking of
paying me a great compliment, told P---- C---- that with my guarantee
all his goods were at his service. I did not feel flattered by the
compliment, but I thought I could see in it the knavery of P----
C----, who was clever enough to find out, out of a hundred, the fool
who without any reason placed confidence in me when I possessed
nothing. It was thus that my angelic C---- C----, who seemed made to
insure my happiness, was the innocent cause of my ruin.
At noon P---- C---- brought his sister; and wishing most likely to
prove its honesty--for a cheat always tries hard to do that--he gave
me back the letter of exchange which I had endorsed for the Cyprus
wine, assuring me likewise that at our next meeting he would hand me
the one hundred sequins which he had promised me.
I took my mistress as usual to Zuecca; I agreed for the garden to be
kept closed, and we dined under a vine-arbour. My dear C---- C----
seemed to me more beautiful since she was mine, and, friendship being
united to love we felt a delightful sensation of happiness which
shone on our features. The hostess, who had found me generous, gave
us some excellent game and some very fine fish; her daughter served
us. She also came to undress my little wife as soon as we had gone
upstairs to give ourselves up to the sweet pleasures natural to a
young married couple.
When we were alone my loved asked me what was the meaning of the one
hundred sequins which her brother had promised to bring me, and I
told her all that had taken place between him and me.
"I entreat you, darling," she said to me, "to refuse all the demands
of my brother in future; he is, unfortunately, in such difficulties
that he would at the end drag you down to the abyss into which he
must fall"
This time our enjoyment seemed to us more substantial; we relished it
with a more refined delight, and, so to speak, we reasoned over it.
"Oh, my best beloved!" she said to me, "do all in your power to
render me pregnant; for in that case my father could no longer refuse
his consent to my marriage, under the pretext of my being too young."
It was with great difficulty that I made her understand that the
fulfilment of that wish, however much I shared it myself, was not
entirely in our power; but that, under the circumstances, it would
most probably be fulfilled sooner or later.
After working with all our might at the completion of that great
undertaking, we gave several hours to a profound and delightful
repose. As soon as we were awake I called for candles and coffee,
and we set to work again in the hope of obtaining the mutual harmony
of ecstatic enjoyment which was necessary to insure our future
happiness. It was in the midst of our loving sport that the too
early dawn surprised us, and we hurried back to Venice to avoid
inquisitive eyes.
We renewed our pleasures on the Friday, but, whatever delight I may
feel now in the remembrance of those happy moments, I will spare my
readers the description of my new enjoyment, because they might not
feel interested in such repetitions. I must therefore only say that,
before parting on that day, we fixed for the following Monday, the
last day of the carnival, our last meeting in the Garden of Zuecca.
Death alone could have hindered me from keeping that appointment, for
it was to be the last opportunity of enjoying our amorous sport.
On the Monday morning I saw P---- C----, who confirmed the
appointment for the same hour, and at the place previously agreed
upon, and I was there in good time. In spite of the impatience of a
lover, the first hour of expectation passes rapidly, but the second
is mortally long. Yet the third and the fourth passed without my
seeing my beloved mistress. I was in a state of fearful anxiety; I
imagined the most terrible disasters. It seemed to me that if C---
C---- had been unable to go out her brother ought to have come to let
me know it.
But some unexpected mishap might have detained him, and I could not
go and fetch her myself at her house, even if I had feared nothing
else than to miss them on the road. At last, as the church bells
were tolling the Angelus, C---- C---- came alone, and masked.
"I was certain," she said, "that you were here, and here I am in
spite of all my mother could say. You must be starving. My brother
has not put in an appearance through the whole of this day. Let us
go quickly to our garden, for I am very hungry too, and love will
console us for all we have suffered today."
She had spoken very rapidly, and without giving me time to utter a
single word; I had nothing more to ask her. We went off, and took a
gondola to our garden. The wind was very high, it blew almost a
hurricane, and the gondola having only one rower the danger was
great. C---- C----, who had no idea of it, was playing with me to
make up for the restraint under which she had been all day; but her
movements exposed the gondolier to danger; if he had fallen into the
water, nothing could have saved us, and we would have found death on
our way to pleasure. I told her to keep quiet, but, being anxious
not to frighten her, I dared not acquaint her with the danger we were
running. The gondolier, however, had not the same reasons for
sparing her feelings, and he called out to us in a stentorian voice
that, if we did not keep quiet, we were all lost. His threat had the
desired effect, and we reached the landing without mishap. I paid
the man generously, and he laughed for joy when he saw the money for
which he was indebted to the bad weather.
We spent six delightful hours in our casino; this time sleep was not
allowed to visit us. The only thought which threw a cloud over our
felicity was that, the carnival being over, we did not know how to
contrive our future meetings. We agreed, however, that on the
following Wednesday morning I should pay a visit to her brother, and
that she would come to his room as usual.
We took leave of our worthy hostess, who, entertaining no hope of
seeing us again, expressed her sorrow and overwhelmed us with
blessings. I escorted my darling, without any accident, as far as
the door of her house, and went home.
I had just risen at noon, when to my great surprise I had a visit
from De la Haye with his pupil Calvi, a handsome young man, but the
very copy of his master in everything. He walked, spoke, laughed
exactly like him; it was the same language as that of the Jesuits
correct but rather harsh French. I thought that excess of imitation
perfectly scandalous, and I could not help telling De la Haye that he
ought to change his pupil's deportment, because such servile mimicry
would only expose him to bitter raillery. As I was giving him my
opinion on that subject, Bavois made his appearance, and when he had
spent an hour in the company of the young man he was entirely of the
same mind. Calvi died two or three years later. De la Haye, who was
bent upon forming pupils, became, two or three months after Calvi's
death, the tutor of the young Chevalier de Morosini, the nephew of
the nobleman to whom Bavois was indebted for his rapid fortune, who
was then the Commissioner of the Republic to settle its boundaries
with the Austrian Government represented by Count Christiani.
I was in love beyond all measure, and I would not postpone an
application on which my happiness depended any longer. After dinner,
and as soon as everybody had retired, I begged M. de Bragadin and his
two friends to grant me an audience of two hours in the room in which
we were always inaccessible. There, without any preamble, I told
them that I was in love with C---- C----, and determined on carrying
her off if they could not contrive to obtain her from her father for
my wife. "The question at issue," I said to M. de Bragadin, "is how
to give me a respectable position, and to guarantee a dowry of ten
thousand ducats which the young lady would bring me." They answered
that, if Paralis gave them the necessary instructions, they were
ready to fulfil them. That was all I wanted. I spent two hours in
forming all the pyramids they wished, and the result was that M. de
Bragadin himself would demand in my name the hand of the young lady;
the oracle explaining the reason of that choice by stating that it
must be the same person who would guarantee the dowry with his own
fortune. The father of my mistress being then at his country-house,
I told my friends that they would have due notice of his return, and
that they were to be all three together when M. de Bragadin demanded
the young lady's hand.
Well pleased with what I had done, I called on P----C---- the next
morning. An old woman, who opened the door for me, told me that he
was not at home, but that his mother would see me. She came
immediately with her daughter, and they both looked very sad, which
at once struck me as a bad sign. C---- C---- told me that her
brother was in prison for debt, and that it would be difficult to get
him out of it because his debts amounted to a very large sum. The
mother, crying bitterly, told me how deeply grieved she was at not
being able to support him in the prison, and she shewed me the letter
he had written to her, in which he requested her to deliver an
enclosure to his sister. I asked C---- C----- whether I could read
it; she handed it to me, and I saw that he begged her to speak to me
in his behalf. As I returned it to her, I told her to write to him
that I was not in a position to do anything for him, but I entreated
the mother to accept twenty-five sequins, which would enable her to
assist him by sending him one or two at a time. She made up her mind
to take them only when her daughter joined her entreaties to mine.
After this painful scene I gave them an account of what I had done in
order to obtain the hand of my young sweetheart. Madame C--- thanked
me, expressed her appreciation of my honourable conduct, but she told
me not to entertain any hope, because her husband, who was very
stubborn in his ideas, had decided that his daughter should marry a
merchant, and not before the age of eighteen. He was expected home
that very day. As I was taking leave of them, my mistress contrived
to slip in my hand a letter in which she told me that I could safely
make use of the key which I had in my possession, to enter the house
at midnight, and that I would find her in her brother's room. This
news made me very happy, for, notwithstanding all the doubts of her
mother, I hoped for success in obtaining her hand.
When I returned home, I told M. de Bragadin of the expected arrival
of the father of my charming C---- C----, and the kind old man wrote
to him immediately in my presence. He requested him to name at what
time he might call on him on important business. I asked M. de
Bragadin not to send his letter until the following day.
The reader can very well guess that C---- C---- had not to wait for
me long after midnight. I gained admittance without any difficulty,
and I found my darling, who received me with open arms.
"You have nothing to fear," she said to me; "my father has arrived in
excellent health, and everyone in the house is fast asleep."
"Except Love," I answered, "which is now inviting us to enjoy
ourselves. Love will protect us, dearest, and to-morrow your father
will receive a letter from my worthy protector."
At those words C---- C---- shuddered. It was a presentiment of the
future.
She said to me,
"My father thinks of me now as if I were nothing but a child; but his
eyes are going to be opened respecting me; he will examine my
conduct, and God knows what will happen! Now, we are happy, even
more than we were during our visits to Zuecca, for we can see each
other every night without restraint. But what will my father do when
he hears that I have a lover?"
"What can he do? If he refuses me your hand, I will carry you off,
and the patriarch would certainly marry us. We shall be one
another's for life"
"It is my most ardent wish, and to realize it I am ready to do
anything; but, dearest, I know my father."
We remained two hours together, thinking less of our pleasures than
of our sorrow; I went away promising to see her again the next night.
The whole of the morning passed off very heavily for me, and at noon
M. de Bragadin informed me that he had sent his letter to the father,
who had answered that he would call himself on the following day to
ascertain M. de Bragadin's wishes. At midnight I saw my beloved
mistress again, and I gave her an account of all that had transpired.
C---- C---- told me that the message of the senator had greatly
puzzled her father, because, as he had never had any intercourse with
that nobleman, he could not imagine what he wanted with him.
Uncertainty, a sort of anxious dread, and a confused hope, rendered
our enjoyment much less lively during the two hours which we spent
together. I had no doubt that M. Ch. C---- the father of my young
friend, would 'go home immediately after his interview with M. de
Bragadin, that he would ask his daughter a great many questions, and
I feared lest C---- C----, in her trouble and confusion, should
betray herself. She felt herself that it might be so, and I could
see how painfully anxious she was. I was extremely uneasy myself,
and I suffered much because, not knowing how her father would look at
the matter, I could not give her any advice. As a matter of course,
it was necessary for her to conceal certain circumstances which would
have prejudiced his mind against us; yet it was urgent to tell him
the truth and to shew herself entirely submissive to his will. I
found myself placed in a strange position, and above all, I regretted
having made the all-important application, precisely because it was
certain to have too decisive a result. I longed to get out of the
state of indecision in which I was, and I was surprised to see my
young mistress less anxious than I was. We parted with heavy hearts,
but with the hope that the next night would again bring us together,
for the contrary did not seem to us possible.
The next day, after dinner, M. Ch. C---- called upon M. de Bragadin,
but I did not shew myself. He remained a couple of hours with my
three friends, and as soon as he had gone I heard that his answer had
been what the mother had told me, but with the addition of a
circumstance most painful to me--namely, that his daughter would pass
the four years which were to elapse, before she could think of
marriage, in a convent. As a palliative to his refusal he had added,
that, if by that time I had a well-established position in the world,
he might consent to our wedding.
That answer struck me as most cruel, and in the despair in which it
threw me I was not astonished when the same night I found the door by
which I used to gain admittance to C---- C---- closed and locked
inside.
I returned home more dead than alive, and lost twenty-four hours in
that fearful perplexity in which a man is often thrown when he feels
himself bound to take a decision without knowing what to decide. I
thought of carrying her off, but a thousand difficulties combined to
prevent the execution of that scheme, and her brother was in prison.
I saw how difficult it would be to contrive a correspondence with my
wife, for I considered C---- C---- as such, much more than if our
marriage had received the sanction of the priest's blessing or of the
notary's legal contract.
Tortured by a thousand distressing ideas, I made up my mind at last
to pay a visit to Madame C----. A servant opened the door, and
informed me that madame had gone to the country; she could not tell
me when she was expected to return to Venice. This news was a
terrible thunder-bolt to me; I remained as motionless as a statue;
for now that I had lost that last resource I had no means of
procuring the slightest information.
I tried to look calm in the presence of my three friends, but in
reality I was in a state truly worthy of pity, and the reader will
perhaps realize it if I tell him that in my despair I made up my mind
to call on P---- C---- in his prison, in the hope that he might give
me some information.
My visit proved useless; he knew nothing, and I did not enlighten his
ignorance. He told me a great many lies which I pretended to accept
as gospel, and giving him two sequins I went away, wishing him a
prompt release.
I was racking my brain to contrive some way to know the position of
my mistress--for I felt certain it was a fearful one--and believing
her to be unhappy I reproached myself most bitterly as the cause of
her misery. I had reached such a state of anxiety that I could
neither eat nor sleep.
Two days after the refusal of the father, M. de Bragadin and his two
friends went to Padua for a month. I had not had the heart to go
with them, and I was alone in the house. I needed consolation and I
went to the gaming-table, but I played without attention and lost a
great deal. I had already sold whatever I possessed of any value,
and I owed money everywhere. I could expect no assistance except
from my three kind friends, but shame prevented me from confessing my
position to them. I was in that disposition which leads easily to
self-destruction, and I was thinking of it as I was shaving myself
before a toilet-glass, when the servant brought to my room a woman
who had a letter for me. The woman came up to me, and, handing me
the letter, she said,
"Are you the person to whom it is addressed?"
I recognized at once a seal which I had given to C---- C----; I
thought I would drop down dead. In order to recover my composure, I
told the woman to wait, and tried to shave myself, but my hand
refused to perform its office. I put the razor down, turned my back
on the messenger, and opening the letter I read the following lines,
"Before I can write all I have to say, I must be sure of my
messenger. I am boarding in a convent, and am very well treated, and
I enjoy excellent health in spite of the anxiety of my mind. The
superior has been instructed to forbid me all visitors and
correspondence. I am, however, already certain of being able to
write to you, notwithstanding these very strict orders. I entertain
no doubt of your good faith, my beloved husband, and I feel sure that
you will never doubt a heart which is wholly yours. Trust to me for
the execution of whatever you may wish me to do, for I am yours and
only yours. Answer only a few words until we are quite certain of
our messenger.
"Muran, June 12th."
In less than three weeks my young friend had become a clever
moralist; it is true that Love had been her teacher, and Love alone
can work miracles. As I concluded the reading of her letter, I was
in the state of a criminal pardoned at the foot of the scaffold. I
required several minutes before I recovered the exercise of my will
and my presence of mind.
I turned towards the messenger, and asked her if she could read.
"Ah, sir! if I could not read, it would be a great misfortune for
me. There are seven women appointed for the service of the nuns of
Muran. One of us comes in turn to Venice once a week; I come every
Wednesday, and this day week I shall be able to bring you an answer
to the letter which, if you like, you can write now."
"Then you can take charge of the letters entrusted to you by the
nuns?"
"That is not supposed to be one of our duties but the faithful
delivery of letters being the most important of the commissions
committed to our care, we should not be trusted if we could not read
the address of the letters placed in our hands. The nuns wanted to
be sure that we shall not give to Peter the letter addressed to Paul.
The good mothers are always afraid of our being guilty of such
blunders. Therefore I shall be here again, without fail, this day
week at the same hour, but please to order your servant to wake you
in case you should be asleep, for our time is measured as if it were
gold. Above all, rely entirely upon my discretion as long as you
employ me; for if I did not know how to keep a silent tongue in my
head I should lose my bread, and then what would become of me--
a widow with four children, a boy eight years old, and three pretty
girls, the eldest of whom is only sixteen? You can see them when you
come to Muran. I live near the church, on the garden side, and I am
always at home when I am not engaged in the service of the nuns, who
are always sending me on one commission or another. The young lady--
I do not know her name yet, for she has only been one week with us--
gave me this letter, but so cleverly! Oh! she must be as witty as
she is pretty, for three nuns who were there were completely
bamboozled. She gave it to me with this other letter for myself,
which I likewise leave in your hands. Poor child! she tells me to be
discreet! She need not be afraid. Write to her, I entreat you, sir,
that she can trust me, and answer boldly. I would not tell you to
act in the same manner with all the other messengers of the convent,
although I believe them to be honest--and God forbid I should speak
ill of my fellow-creature--but they are all ignorant, you see; and it
is certain that they babble, at least, with their confessors, if with
nobody else. As for me, thank God! I know very well that I need not
confess anything but my sins, and surely to carry a letter from a
Christian woman to her brother in Christ is not a sin. Besides, my
confessor is a good old monk, quite deaf, I believe, for the worthy
man never answers me; but that is his business, not mine!"
I had not intended to ask her any questions, but if such had been my
intention she would not have given me time to carry it into
execution; and without my asking her anything, she was telling me
everything I cared to know, and she did so in her anxiety for me to
avail myself of her services exclusively.
I immediately sat down to write to my dear recluse, intending at
first to write only a few lines, as she had requested me; but my time
was too short to write so little. My letter was a screed of four
pages, and very likely it said less than her note of one short page.
I told her her letter had saved my life, and asked her whether I
could hope to see her. I informed her that I had given a sequin to
the messenger, that she would find another for herself under the seal
of my letter, and that I would send her all the money she might want.
I entreated her not to fail writing every Wednesday, to be certain
that her letters would never be long enough to give me full
particulars, not only of all she did, of all she was allowed to do,
but also of all her thoughts respecting her release from
imprisonment, and the overcoming of all the obstacles which were in
the way of our mutual happiness; for I was as much hers as she was
mine. I hinted to her the necessity of gaining the love of all the
nuns and boarders, but without taking them into her confidence, and
of shewing no dislike of her convent life. After praising her for
the clever manner in which she had contrived to write to me, in spite
of superior orders, I made her understand how careful she was to be
to avoid being surprised while she was writing, because in such a
case her room would certainly be searched and all her papers seized.
"Burn all my letters, darling," I added, "and recollect that you must
go to confession often, but without implicating our love. Share with
me all your sorrows, which interest me even more than your joys."
I sealed my letter in such a manner that no one could possibly guess
that there was a sequin hidden under the sealing wax, and I rewarded
the woman, promising her that I would give her the same reward every
time that she brought me a letter from my friend. When she saw the
sequin which I had put in her hand the good woman cried for joy, and
she told me that, as the gates of the convent were never closed for
her, she would deliver my letter the moment she found the young lady
alone.
Here is the note which C---- C---- had given to the woman, with the
letter addressed to me:
"God Himself, my good woman, prompts me to have confidence in you
rather than in anybody else. Take this letter to Venice, and should
the person to whom it is addressed not be in the city, bring it back
to me. You must deliver it to that person himself, and if you find
him you will most likely have an answer, which you must give me, but
only when you are certain that nobody can see you."
If Love is imprudent, it is only in the hope of enjoyment; but when
it is necessary to bring back happiness destroyed by some untoward
accident, Love foresees all that the keenest perspicacity could
possibly find out. The letter of my charming wife overwhelmed me
with joy, and in one moment I passed from a state of despair to that
of extreme felicity. I felt certain that I should succeed in
carrying her off even if the walls of the convent could boast of
artillery, and after the departure of the messenger my first thought
was to endeavour to spend the seven days, before I could receive the
second letter, pleasantly. Gambling alone could do it, but everybody
had gone to Padua. I got my trunk ready, and immediately sent it to
the burchiello then ready to start, and I left for Frusina. From
that place I posted, and in less than three hours I arrived at the
door of the Bragadin Palace, where I found my dear protector on the
point of sitting down to dinner. He embraced me affectionately, and
seeing me covered with perspiration he said to me,
"I am certain that you are in no hurry."
"No," I answered, "but I am starving."
I brought joy to the brotherly trio, and I enhanced their happiness
when I told my friends that I would remain six days with them. De la
Haye dined with us on that day; as soon as dinner was over he
closeted himself with M. Dandoio, and for two hours they remained
together. I had gone to bed during that time, but M. Dandolo came up
to me and told me that I had arrived just in time to consult the
oracle respecting an important affair entirely private to himself.
He gave me the questions, and requested me to find the answers. He
wanted to know whether he would act rightly if he accepted a project
proposed to him by De la Haye.
The oracle answered negatively.
M. Dandolo, rather surprised, asked a second question: he wished
Paralis to give his reasons for the denial.
I formed the cabalistic pile, and brought out this answer:
"I asked Casanova's opinion, and as I find it opposed to the proposal
made by De la Haye, I do not wish to hear any more about it."
Oh! wonderful power of self-delusion! This worthy man, pleased at
being able to throw the odium of a refusal on me, left me perfectly
satisfied. I had no idea of the nature of the affair to which he had
been alluding, and I felt no curiosity about it; but it annoyed me
that a Jesuit should interfere and try to make my friends do anything
otherwise than through my instrumentality, and I wanted that
intriguer to know that my influence was greater than his own.
After that, I dressed, masked myself, and went to the opera, where I
sat down to a faro-table and lost all my money. Fortune was
determined to shew me that it does not always agree with love. My
heart was heavy, I felt miserable; I went to bed. When I woke in the
morning, I saw De la Haye come into my room with a beaming
countenance, and, assuming an air of devoted friendship, he made a
great show of his feelings towards me. I knew what to think of it
all, and I waited for the 'denouement'.
"My dear friend," he said to me at last, "why did you dissuade
M. Dandolo from doing what I had insinuated to him.?"
"What had you insinuated to him?"
"You know well enough."
"If I knew it, I would not ask you"
"M. Dandolo himself told me that you had advised him against it."
"Advised against, that may be, but certainly not dissuaded, for if he
had been persuaded in his own mind he would not have asked my
advice."
"As you please; but may I enquire your reasons?"
"Tell me first what your proposal was."
"Has he not told you?"
"Perhaps he has; but if you wish to know my reasons, I must hear the
whole affair from your own lips, because M. Dandolo spoke to me under
a promise of secrecy."
"Of what good is all this reserve?"
"Everyone has his own principles and his own way of thinking: I have
a sufficiently good opinion of you to believe that you would act
exactly as I do, for I have heard you say that in all secret matters
one ought to guard against surprise."
"I am incapable of taking such an advantage of a friend; but as a
general rule your maxim is a right one; I like prudence. I will tell
you the whole affair. You are aware that Madame Tripolo has been
left a widow, and that M. Dandolo is courting her assiduously, after
having done the same for fourteen years during the life of the
husband. The lady, who is still young, beautiful and lovely, and
also is very respectable, wishes to become his wife. It is to me
that she has confided her wishes, and as I saw nothing that was not
praiseworthy, either in a temporal or in a spiritual point of view,
in that union, for after all we are all men, I took the affair in
hand with real pleasure. I fancied even that M. Dandolo felt some
inclination for that marriage when he told me that he would give me
his decision this morning. I am not astonished at his having asked
your advice in such an important affair, for a prudent man is right
in asking the opinion of a wise friend before taking a decisive step;
but I must tell you candidly that I am astonished at your disapproval
of such a marriage. Pray excuse me if, in order to improve by the
information, I ask why your opinion is exactly the reverse of mine."
Delighted at having discovered the whole affair, at having arrived in
time to prevent my friend who was goodness itself contracting an
absurd marriage, I answered the hypocrite that I loved M. Dandolo,
that I knew his temperament, and that I was certain that a marriage
with a woman like Madame Tripolo would shorten his life.
"That being my opinion," I added, "you must admit that as a true
friend I was right in advising him against your proposal. Do you
recollect having told me that you never married for the very same
reason? Do you recollect your strong arguments in favour of celibacy
while we were at Parma? Consider also, I beg, that every man has a
certain small stock of selfishness, and that I may be allowed to have
mine when I think that if M. Dandolo took a wife the influence of
that wife would of course have some weight, and that the more she
gained in influence over him the more I should lose. So you see it
would not be natural for me to advise him to take a step which would
ultimately prove very detrimental to my interests. If you can prove
that my reasons are either trifling or sophistical, speak openly: I
will tell M. Dandolo that my mind has changed; Madame Tripolo will
become his wife when we return to Venice. But let me warn you that
thorough conviction can alone move me."
"I do not believe myself clever enough to convince you. I shall
write to Madame Tripolo that she must apply to you."
"Do not write anything of the sort to that lady, or she will think
that you are laughing at her. Do you suppose her foolish enough to
expect that I will give way to her wishes? She knows that I do not
like her."
"How can she possibly know that?"
"She must have remarked that I have never cared to accompany
M. Dandolo to her house. Learn from me once for all, that as long as
I live with my three friends they shall have no wife but me. You may
get married as soon as you please; I promise not to throw any
obstacle in your way; but if you wish to remain on friendly terms
with me give up all idea of leading my three friends astray."
"You are very caustic this morning."
"I lost all my money last night.
"Then I have chosen a bad time. Farewell."
From that day, De la Haye became my secret enemy, and to him I was in
a great measure indebted, two years later, for my imprisonment under
The Leads of Venice; not owing to his slanders, for I do not believe
he was capable of that, Jesuit though he was--and even amongst such
people there is sometimes some honourable feeling--but through the
mystical insinuations which he made in the presence of bigoted
persons. I must give fair notice to my readers that, if they are
fond of such people, they must not read these Memoirs, for they
belong to a tribe which I have good reason to attack unmercifully.
The fine marriage was never again alluded to. M. Dandolo continued
to visit his beautiful widow every day, and I took care to elicit
from Paralis a strong interdiction ever to put my foot in her house.
Don Antonio Croce, a young Milanese whom I had known in Reggio, a
confirmed gambler, and a downright clever hand in securing the
favours of Dame Fortune, called on me a few minutes after De la Haye
had retired. He told me that, having seen me lose all my money the
night before, he had come to offer me the means of retrieving my
losses, if I would take an equal interest with him in a faro bank
that he meant to hold at his house, and in which he would have as
punters seven or eight rich foreigners who were courting his wife.
"If you will put three hundred sequins in my bank," he added, "you
shall be my partner. I have three hundred sequins myself, but that
is not enough because the punters play high. Come and dine at my
house, and you will make their acquaintance. We can play next Friday
as there will be no opera, and you may rely upon our winning plenty
of gold, for a certain Gilenspetz, a Swede, may lose twenty thousand
sequins."
I was without any resources, or at all events I could expect no
assistance except from M. de Bragadin upon whom I felt ashamed of
encroaching. I was well aware that the proposal made by Croce was
not strictly moral, and that I might have chosen a more honourable
society; but if I had refused, the purse of Madame Croce's admirers
would not have been more mercifully treated; another would have
profited by that stroke of good fortune. I was therefore not rigid
enough to refuse my assistance as adjutant and my share of the pie; I
accepted Croce's invitation.
