The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete. Giacomo Casanova
is it not so, uncle?”
“Yes, my dear Christine, and as a proof you see that this gentleman has accepted our company without knowing who or what we are.”
“But do you think I would have come if I had not been attracted by the beauty of your lovely niece?”
At these words the good people burst out laughing. As I did not think that there was anything very comic in what I had said, I judged that my travelling companions were rather simple, and I was not sorry to find them so.
“Why do you laugh so heartily, beautiful ‘demigella’? Is it to shew me your fine teeth? I confess that I have never seen such a splendid set in Venice.”
“Oh! it is not for that, sir, although everyone in Venice has paid me the same compliment. I can assure you that in P– all the girls have teeth as fine as mine. Is it not a fact, uncle?”
“Yes, my dear niece.”
“I was laughing, sir, at a thing which I will never tell you.”
“Oh! tell me, I entreat you.”
“Oh! certainly not, never.”
“I will tell you myself,” says the curate.
“You will not,” she exclaims, knitting her beautiful eyebrows. “If you do I will go away.”
“I defy you to do it, my dear. Do you know what she said, sir, when she saw you on the wharf? ‘Here is a very handsome young man who is looking at me, and would not be sorry to be with us.’ And when she saw that the gondoliers were putting back for you to embark she was delighted.”
While the uncle was speaking to me, the indignant niece was slapping him on the shoulder.
“Why are you angry, lovely Christine, at my hearing that you liked my appearance, when I am so glad to let you know how truly charming I think you?”
“You are glad for a moment. Oh! I know the Venetians thoroughly now. They have all told me that they were charmed with me, and not one of those I would have liked ever made a declaration to me.”
“What sort of declaration did you want?”
“There’s only one sort for me, sir; the declaration leading to a good marriage in church, in the sight of all men. Yet we remained a fortnight in Venice; did we not, uncle?”
“This girl,” said the uncle, “is a good match, for she possesses three thousand crowns. She has always said that she would marry only a Venetian, and I have accompanied her to Venice to give her an opportunity of being known. A worthy woman gave us hospitality for a fortnight, and has presented my niece in several houses where she made the acquaintance of marriageable young men, but those who pleased her would not hear of marriage, and those who would have been glad to marry her did not take her fancy.”
“But do you imagine, reverend sir, that marriages can be made like omelets? A fortnight in Venice, that is nothing; you ought to live there at least six months. Now, for instance, I think your niece sweetly pretty, and I should consider myself fortunate if the wife whom God intends for me were like her, but, even if she offered me now a dowry of fifty thousand crowns on condition that our wedding takes place immediately, I would refuse her. A prudent young man wants to know the character of a girl before he marries her, for it is neither money nor beauty which can ensure happiness in married life.”
“What do you mean by character?” asked Christine; “is it a beautiful hand-writing?”
“No, my dear. I mean the qualities of the mind and the heart. I shall most likely get married sometime, and I have been looking for a wife for the last three years, but I am still looking in vain. I have known several young girls almost as lovely as you are, and all with a good marriage portion, but after an acquaintance of two or three months I found out that they could not make me happy.”
“In what were they deficient?”
“Well, I will tell you, because you are not acquainted with them, and there can be no indiscretion on my part. One whom I certainly would have married, for I loved her dearly, was extremely vain. She would have ruined me in fashionable clothes and by her love for luxuries. Fancy! she was in the habit of paying one sequin every month to the hair-dresser, and as much at least for pomatum and perfumes.”
“She was a giddy, foolish girl. Now, I spend only ten soldi in one year on wax which I mix with goat’s grease, and there I have an excellent pomatum.”
“Another, whom I would have married two years ago, laboured under a disease which would have made me unhappy; as soon as I knew of it, I ceased my visits.”
“What disease was it?”
“A disease which would have prevented her from being a mother, and, if I get married, I wish to have children.”
“All that is in God’s hands, but I know that my health is excellent. Is it not, uncle?”
“Another was too devout, and that does not suit me. She was so over-scrupulous that she was in the habit of going to her confessor twice a week, and every time her confession lasted at least one hour. I want my wife to be a good Christian, but not bigoted.”
“She must have been a great sinner, or else she was very foolish. I confess only once a month, and get through everything in two minutes. Is it not true, uncle? and if you were to ask me any questions, uncle, I should not know what more to say.”
“One young lady thought herself more learned than I, although she would, every minute, utter some absurdity. Another was always low-spirited, and my wife must be cheerful.”
“Hark to that, uncle! You and my mother are always chiding me for my cheerfulness.”
“Another, whom I did not court long, was always afraid of being alone with me, and if I gave her a kiss she would run and tell her mother.”
“How silly she must have been! I have never yet listened to a lover, for we have only rude peasants in P–, but I know very well that there are some things which I would not tell my mother.”
“One had a rank breath; another painted her face, and, indeed, almost every young girl is guilty of that fault. I am afraid marriage is out of the question for me, because I want, for instance, my wife to have black eyes, and in our days almost every woman colours them by art; but I cannot be deceived, for I am a good judge.”
“Are mine black?”
“You are laughing?”
“I laugh because your eyes certainly appear to be black, but they are not so in reality. Never mind, you are very charming in spite of that.”
“Now, that is amusing. You pretend to be a good judge, yet you say that my eyes are dyed black. My eyes, sir, whether beautiful or ugly, are now the same as God made them. Is it not so, uncle?”
“I never had any doubt of it, my dear niece.”
“And you do not believe me, sir?”
“No, they are too beautiful for me to believe them natural.”
“Oh, dear me! I cannot bear it.”
“Excuse me, my lovely damigella, I am afraid I have been too sincere.”
After that quarrel we remained silent. The good curate smiled now and then, but his niece found it very hard to keep down her sorrow.
At intervals I stole a look at her face, and could see that she was very near crying. I felt sorry, for she was a charming girl. In her hair, dressed in the fashion of wealthy countrywomen, she had more than one hundred sequins’ worth of gold pins and arrows which fastened the plaits of her long locks as dark as ebony. Heavy gold ear-rings, and a long chain, which was wound twenty times round her snowy neck, made a fine contrast to her complexion, on which the lilies and the roses were admirably blended. It was the first time that I had seen a country beauty in such splendid apparel. Six years before, Lucie at Pasean had captivated me, but in a different manner.
Christine did not utter a single word, she was in despair, for her eyes were truly of the greatest beauty, and I was cruel enough to attack them. She