The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete. Giacomo Casanova
to be a confession, be careful not to omit the most insignificant circumstance, and suppose that I am not in the room.”
“On the contrary, I wish to receive absolution only from your excellency. But my history will be a long one.”
“If such is the case, your confessor gives you permission to be seated.”
I gave all the particulars of my adventures, with the exception of my dalliance with the nymphs of the island.
“Your story is a very instructive one,” observed the general.
“Yes, my lord, for the adventures shew that a young man is never so near his utter ruin than when, excited by some great passion, he finds himself able to minister to it, thanks to the gold in his purse.”
I was preparing to take my leave, when the majordomo came to inform me that his excellency desired me to remain to supper. I had therefore the honour of a seat at his table, but not the pleasure of eating, for I was obliged to answer the questions addressed to me from all quarters, and I could not contrive to swallow a single mouthful. I was seated next to the Proto-Papa Bulgari, and I entreated his pardon for having ridiculed Deldimopulo’s oracle. “It is nothing else but regular cheating,” he said, “but it is very difficult to put a stop to it; it is an old custom.”
A short time afterwards, Madame F– whispered a few words to the general, who turned to me and said that he would be glad to hear me relate what had occurred to me in Constantinople with the wife of the Turk Yusuf, and at another friend’s house, where I had seen bathing by moonlight. I was rather surprised at such an invitation, and told him that such frolics were not worth listening to, and the general not pressing me no more was said about it. But I was astonished at Madame F–‘s indiscretion; she had no business to make my confidences public. I wanted her to be jealous of her own dignity, which I loved even more than her person.
Two or three days later, she said to me,
“Why did you refuse to tell your adventures in Constantinople before the general?”
“Because I do not wish everybody to know that you allow me to tell you such things. What I may dare, madam, to say to you when we are alone, I would certainly not say to you in public.”
“And why not? It seems to me, on the contrary, that if you are silent in public out of respect for me, you ought to be all the more silent when we are alone.”
“I wanted to amuse you, and have exposed myself to the danger of displeasing you, but I can assure you, madam, that I will not run such a risk again.”
“I have no wish to pry into your intentions, but it strikes me that if your wish was to please me, you ought not to have run the risk of obtaining the opposite result. We take supper with the general this evening, and M. D– R– has been asked to bring you. I feel certain that the general will ask you again for your adventures in Constantinople, and this time you cannot refuse him.”
M. D– R– came in and we went to the general’s. I thought as we were driving along that, although Madame F– seemed to have intended to humiliate me, I ought to accept it all as a favour of fortune, because, by compelling me to explain my refusal to the general; Madame F– had, at the same time, compelled me to a declaration of my feelings, which was not without importance.
The ‘proveditore-generale’ gave me a friendly welcome, and kindly handed me a letter which had come with the official dispatches from Constantinople. I bowed my thanks, and put the letter in my pocket: but he told me that he was himself a great lover of news, and that I could read my letter. I opened it; it was from Yusuf, who announced the death of Count de Bonneval. Hearing the name of the worthy Yusuf, the general asked me to tell him my adventure with his wife. I could not now refuse, and I began a story which amused and interested the general and his friends for an hour or so, but which was from beginning to end the work of my imagination.
Thus I continued to respect the privacy of Yusuf, to avoid implicating the good fame of Madame F–, and to shew myself in a light which was tolerably advantageous to me. My story, which was full of sentiment, did me a great deal of honour, and I felt very happy when I saw from the expression of Madame F–‘s face that she was pleased with me, although somewhat surprised.
When we found ourselves again in her house she told me, in the presence of M. D– R–, that the story I had related to the general was certainly very pretty, although purely imaginary, that she was not angry with me, because I had amused her, but that she could not help remarking my obstinacy in refusing compliance with her wishes. Then, turning to M. D– R–, she said,
“M. Casanova pretends that if he had given an account of his meeting with Yusuf’s wife without changing anything everybody would think that I allowed him to entertain me with indecent stories. I want you to give your opinion about it. Will you,” she added, speaking to me, “be so good as to relate immediately the adventure in the same words which you have used when you told me of it?”
“Yes, madam, if you wish me to do so.”
Stung to the quick by an indiscretion which, as I did not yet know women thoroughly, seemed to me without example, I cast all fears of displeasing to the winds, related the adventure with all the warmth of an impassioned poet, and without disguising or attenuating in the least the desires which the charms of the Greek beauty had inspired me with.
“Do you think,” said M. D– R– to Madame F–, “that he ought to have related that adventure before all our friends as he has just related it to us?”
“If it be wrong for him to tell it in public, it is also wrong to tell it to me in private.”
“You are the only judge of that: yes, if he has displeased you; no, if he has amused you. As for my own opinion, here it is: He has just now amused me very much, but he would have greatly displeased me if he had related the same adventure in public.”
“Then,” exclaimed Madame F–, “I must request you never to tell me in private anything that you cannot repeat in public.”
“I promise, madam, to act always according to your wishes.”
“It being understood,” added M. D– R–, smiling, “that madam reserves all rights of repealing that order whenever she may think fit.”
I was vexed, but I contrived not to show it. A few minutes more, and we took leave of Madame F–.
I was beginning to understand that charming woman, and to dread the ordeal to which she would subject me. But love was stronger than fear, and, fortified with hope, I had the courage to endure the thorns, so as to gather the rose at the end of my sufferings. I was particularly pleased to find that M. D– R– was not jealous of me, even when she seemed to dare him to it. This was a point of the greatest importance.
A few days afterwards, as I was entertaining her on various subjects, she remarked how unfortunate it had been for me to enter the lazzaretto at Ancona without any money.
“In spite of my distress,” I said, “I fell in love with a young and beautiful Greek slave, who very nearly contrived to make me break through all the sanitary laws.”
“How so?”
“You are alone, madam, and I have not forgotten your orders.”
“Is it a very improper story?”
“No: yet I would not relate it to you in public.”
“Well,” she said, laughing, “I repeal my order, as M. D– R– said I would. Tell me all about it.”
I told my story, and, seeing that she was pensive, I exaggerated the misery I had felt at not being able to complete my conquest.
“What do you mean by your misery? I think that the poor girl was more to be pitied than you. You have never seen her since?”
“I beg your pardon, madam; I met her again, but I dare not tell you when or how.”
“Now you must go on; it is all nonsense for you to stop. Tell me all; I expect you have been guilty of some black deed.”
“Very far from it, madam, for it was a very sweet, although