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diff --git a/9310-h/9310-h.htm b/9310-h/9310-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ac905 --- /dev/null +++ b/9310-h/9310-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5010 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Casanova's Homecoming, by Arthur Schnitzler + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Casanova's Homecoming, by Arthur Schnitzler + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Casanova's Homecoming + +Author: Arthur Schnitzler + +Release Date: August 4, 2009 [EBook #9310] +Last Updated: November 19, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASANOVA'S HOMECOMING *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + CASANOVA’S HOMECOMING + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Arthur Schnitzler + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + 1922 + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + The Translation of this book was made by EDEN AND CEDAR PAUL + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> POSTFACE </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE. + </h2> + <p> + Casanova was in his fifty-third year. Though no longer driven by the lust + of adventure that had spurred him in his youth, he was still hunted + athwart the world, hunted now by a restlessness due to the approach of old + age. His yearning for Venice, the city of his birth, grew so intense that, + like a wounded bird slowly circling downwards in its death flight, he + began to move in ever-narrowing circles. Again and again, during the last + ten years of his exile, he had implored the Supreme Council for leave to + return home. Erstwhile, in the drafting of these petitions—a work in + which he was a past master—a defiant, wilful spirit seemed to have + guided his pen; at times even he appeared to take a grim delight in his + forwardness. But of late his requests had been couched in humble, + beseeching words which displayed, ever more plainly, the ache of + homesickness and genuine repentance. + </p> + <p> + The sins of his earlier years (the most unpardonable to the Venetian + councillors was his free-thinking, not his dissoluteness, or + quarrelsomeness, or rather sportive knavery) were by degrees passing into + oblivion, and so Casanova had a certain amount of confidence that he would + receive a hearing. The history of his marvellous escape from The Leads of + Venice, which he had recounted on innumerable occasions at the courts of + princes, in the palaces of nobles, at the supper tables of burghers, and + in houses of ill fame, was beginning to make people forget any disrepute + which had attached to his name. Moreover, in letters to Mantua, where he + had been staying for two months, persons of influence had conveyed hope to + the adventurer, whose inward and outward lustre were gradually beginning + to fade, that ere long there would come a favorable turn in his fortunes. + </p> + <p> + Since his means were now extremely slender, Casanova had decided to await + the expected pardon in the modest but respectable inn where he had stayed + in happier years. To make only passing mention of less spiritual + amusements, with which he could not wholly dispense—he spent most of + his time in writing a polemic against the slanderer Voltaire, hoping that + the publication of this document would serve, upon his return to Venice, + to give him unchallenged position and prestige in the eyes of all + well-disposed citizens. + </p> + <p> + One morning he went out for a walk beyond the town limits to excogitate + the final touches for some sentences that were to annihilate the infidel + Frenchman. Suddenly he fell prey to a disquiet that almost amounted to + physical distress. He turned over in his mind the life he had been leading + for the last three months. It had grown wearisomely familiar—the + morning walks into the country, the evenings spent in gambling for petty + stakes with the reputed Baron Perotti and the latter’s pock-marked + mistress. He thought of the affection lavished upon himself by his + hostess, a woman ardent but no longer young. He thought of how he had + passed his time over the writings of Voltaire and over the composition of + an audacious rejoinder which until that moment had seemed to him by no + means inadequate. Yet now, in the dulcet atmosphere of a morning in late + summer, all these things appeared stupid and repulsive. + </p> + <p> + Muttering a curse without really knowing upon whose head he wished it to + alight, gripping the hilt of his sword, darting angry glances in all + directions as if invisible scornful eyes were watching him in the + surrounding solitude, he turned on his heel and retraced his steps back to + the town, determined to make arrangements that very hour for immediate + departure. He felt convinced that a more genial mood would possess him + were he to diminish even by a few miles the distance that separated him + from the home for which he longed. It was necessary to hasten, so that he + might be sure of booking a place in the diligence. It was to leave at + eventide by the eastward road. There was little else to do, for he really + need not bother to pay a farewell visit to Baron Perotti. Half an hour + would suffice for the packing of all his possessions. He thought of the + two suits, the shabbier of which he was wearing at that moment; of the + much darned, though once elegant, underlinen. With two or three + snuffboxes, a gold watch and chain, and a few books, these comprised his + whole worldly wealth. He called to mind past splendors, when he had + travelled as a man of distinction, driving in a fine carriage; when he had + been well furnished both with necessaries and with superfluities; when he + had even had his own servingman—who had usually, of course, been a + rogue. These memories brought impotent anger in their train, and his eyes + filled with tears. A young woman drove towards him, whip in hand. In her + little cart, amid sacks and various odds and ends, lay her husband, drunk + and snoring. Casanova strode by beneath the chestnut trees that lined the + highway, his face working with wrath, unintelligible phrases hissing from + between his clenched teeth. The woman glanced at him inquisitively and + mockingly at first, then, on encountering an angry glare, with some alarm, + and finally, after she had passed, there was amorous invitation in the + look she gave him over her shoulder. Casanova, who was well aware that + rage and hatred can assume the semblance of youth more readily than can + gentleness and amiability, was prompt to realize that a bold response on + his part would bring the cart to a standstill, and that the young woman + would be ready to give him any assignation he pleased. Nevertheless, + although the recognition of this fact put him in a better humor for the + nonce, it seemed hardly worth while to waste minutes upon so trivial an + adventure. He was content, therefore, to allow the peasant woman to drive + her cart and all its contents unimpeded through the dust of the roadway. + </p> + <p> + The sun was now high in the heavens, and the shade of the trees hardly + tempered the heat. Casanova was soon compelled to moderate his pace. + </p> + <p> + Under the thick powder of dust the shabbiness of his garments was no + longer apparent, so that by his dress and bearing he might easily have + been taken for a gentleman of station who had been pleased for once in a + way to walk instead of drive. He had almost reached the arched gateway + near his inn, when he met a heavy country carriage lumbering along the + road. In it was seated a stoutish man, well dressed, and still fairly + young. His hands were clasped across his stomach, his eyelids drooped, and + he seemed about to doze off, when of a sudden he caught sight of Casanova, + and a great change took place in him. His whole aspect betrayed great + excitement. He sprang to his feet, but too quickly, and fell back into his + seat. Rising again, he gave the driver a punch in the back, to make the + fellow pull up. But since the carriage did not stop instantly, the + passenger turned round so as not to lose sight of Casanova, signalled with + both hands, and finally called to him thrice by name, in a thin, clear + voice. Not till he heard the voice, did Casanova recognize who it was. By + now the carriage had stopped, and Casanova smilingly seized two hands + outstretched towards him, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Olivo, is it really you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Signor Casanova, it is I. You recognize me, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Since I last saw you, on your wedding day, you’ve put on flesh; + but very likely I’ve changed a good deal, too, in these fifteen years, + though not perhaps in the same fashion.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” exclaimed Olivo. “Why, Signor Casanova, you have hardly + changed at all! And it is more than fifteen years; the sixteen years were + up a few days ago. As you can imagine, Amalia and I had a good talk about + you on the anniversary of our wedding.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” said Casanova cordially. “You both think of me at times?” + </p> + <p> + The tears came to Olivo’s eyes. He was still holding Casanova’s hands, and + he pressed them fondly. + </p> + <p> + “We have so much to thank you for, Signor Casanova. How could we ever + forget our benefactor? Should we do so...” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of it,” interrupted Casanova. “How is Signora Amalia? Do you + know, I have been living in Mantua three months, very quietly to be sure, + but taking plenty of walks as I always have done. How is it, Olivo, that I + never met you or your wife before?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter is simple, Signor Casanova. Both Amalia and I detest the town, + and we gave up living there a long time ago. Would you do me the favor to + jump in? We shall be at home in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova tried to excuse himself, but Olivo insisted. + </p> + <p> + “I will take no denial. How delighted Amalia will be to see you once more, + and how proud to show you our three children. Yes, we have three, Signor + Casanova. All girls. Thirteen, ten, and eight—not one of them old + enough yet—you’ll excuse me, won’t you—to have her head turned + by Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed good-humoredly, and made as if to help Casanova into the + carriage. The latter shook his head. He had been tempted for a moment by + natural curiosity to accept Olivo’s invitation. Then his impatience + returned in full force, and he assured his would-be host that + unfortunately urgent business called him away from Mantua that very + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + What could he expect to find in Olivo’s house? Sixteen years were a long + time! Amalia would be no younger and no prettier. At his age, a girl of + thirteen would not find him interesting. Olivo, too, whom he had known in + old days as a lean and eager student, was now a portly, countrified + paterfamilias. The proposed visit did not offer sufficient attractions to + induce Casanova to abandon a journey that was to bring him thirty or forty + miles nearer to Venice. + </p> + <p> + Olivo, however, was disinclined to take no for an answer. Casanova must at + least accept a lift back to the inn, a kindly suggestion that could not + decently be refused. It was only a few minutes’ drive. The hostess, a + buxom woman in the middle thirties, welcomed Casanova with a glance that + did not fail to disclose to Olivo the tender relationship between the + pair. She shook hands with Olivo as an old acquaintance. She was a + customer of Signor Olivo’s, she explained to Casanova, for an excellent + medium-dry wine grown on his estate. + </p> + <p> + Olivo hastened to announce that the Chevalier de Seingalt (the hostess had + addressed Casanova by this title, and Olivo promptly followed suit) was so + churlish as to refuse the invitation of an old friend, on the ridiculous + plea that to-day of all days he had to leave Mantua. The woman’s look of + gloom convinced Olivo that this was the first she had heard of Casanova’s + intended departure, and the latter felt it desirable to explain that his + mention of the journey had been a mere pretext, lest he should incommode + his friend’s household by an unexpected visit, and that he had, in fact, + an important piece of writing to finish during the next few days, and no + place was better suited for the work than the inn, where his room was + agreeably cool and quiet. + </p> + <p> + Olivo protested that the Chevalier de Seingalt would do his modest home + the greatest possible honor by finishing the work in question there. A + change to the country could not but be helpful in such an undertaking. If + Casanova should need learned treatises and works of reference, there would + be no lack of them, for Olivo’s niece, the daughter of a deceased + half-brother, a girl who though young was extremely erudite, had arrived a + few weeks before with a whole trunkful of books. Should any guests drop in + at times of an evening, the Chevalier need not put himself about—unless, + indeed, after the labors of the day, cheerful conversation or a game of + cards might offer welcome distraction. Directly Casanova heard of the + niece, he decided he would like to make her acquaintance, and after a show + of further reluctance he yielded to Olivo’s solicitation, declaring, + however, that on no account would he be able to leave Mantua for more than + a day or two. He begged the hostess to forward promptly by messenger any + letters that should arrive during his absence, since they might be of the + first importance. + </p> + <p> + Matters having thus been arranged to Olivo’s complete satisfaction, + Casanova went to his room, made ready for the journey, and returned to the + parlor in a quarter of an hour. Olivo, meanwhile, had been having a lively + business talk with the hostess. He now rose, drank off his glass of wine, + and with a significant wink promised to bring the Chevalier back, not + perhaps to-morrow or the day after, but in any case in good order and + condition. Casanova, however, had suddenly grown distrait and irritable. + So cold was his farewell to the fond hostess that, at the carriage door, + she whispered a parting word in his ear which was anything but amiable. + </p> + <p> + During the drive along the dusty road beneath the glare of the noonday + sun, Olivo gave a garrulous and somewhat incoherent account of his life + since the friends’ last meeting. Shortly after his marriage he had bought + a plot of land near the town, and had started in a small way as market + gardener. Doing well at this trade, he had gradually been able to + undertake more ambitious farming ventures. At length, under God’s favor, + and thanks to his own and his wife’s efficiency, he had been able three + years earlier to buy from the pecuniarily embarrassed Count Marazzani the + latter’s old and somewhat dilapidated country seat with a vineyard + attached. He, his wife, and his children were comfortably settled upon + this patrician estate, though with no pretence to patrician splendor. All + these successes were ultimately due to the hundred and fifty gold pieces + that Casanova had presented to Amalia, or rather to her mother. But for + this magical aid, Olivo’s lot would still have been the same. He would + still have been giving instruction in reading and writing to ill-behaved + youngsters. Most likely, he would have been an old bachelor and Amalia an + old maid. + </p> + <p> + Casanova let him ramble on without paying much heed. The incident was one + among many of the date to which it belonged. As he turned it over in his + mind, it seemed to him the most trivial of them all, it had hardly even + troubled the waters of memory. + </p> + <p> + He had been travelling from Rome to Turin or Paris—he had forgotten + which. During a brief stay in Mantua, he caught sight of Amalia in church + one morning. Pleased with her appearance, with her handsome but pale and + somewhat woebegone face, he gallantly addressed her a friendly question. + In those days everyone had been complaisant to Casanova. Gladly opening + her heart to him, the girl told him that she was not well off; that she + was in love with an usher who was likewise poor; that his father and her + own mother were both unwilling to give their consent to so inauspicious a + union. Casanova promptly declared himself ready to help matters on. He + sought an introduction to Amalia’s mother, a good-looking widow of + thirty-six who was still quite worthy of being courted. Ere long Casanova + was on such intimate terms with her that his word was law. When her + consent to the match had been won, Olivo’s father, a merchant in reduced + circumstances, was no longer adverse, being specially influenced by the + fact that Casanova (presented to him as a distant relative of the bride’s + mother) undertook to defray the expenses of the wedding and to provide + part of the dowry. To Amalia, her generous patron seemed like a messenger + from a higher world. She showed her gratitude in the manner prompted by + her own heart. When, the evening before her wedding, she withdrew with + glowing cheeks from Casanova’s last embrace, she was far from thinking + that she had done any wrong to her future husband, who after all owed his + happiness solely to the amiability and open-handedness of this marvellous + friend. Casanova had never troubled himself as to whether Amalia had + confessed to Olivo the length to which she had gone in gratitude to her + benefactor; whether, perchance, Olivo had taken her sacrifice as a matter + of course, and had not considered it any reason for retrospective + jealousy; or whether Olivo had always remained in ignorance of the matter. + Nor did Casanova allow these questions to harass his mind to-day. + </p> + <p> + The heat continued to increase. The carriage, with bad springs and hard + cushions, jolted the occupants abominably. Olivo went on chattering in his + high, thin voice; talking incessantly of the fertility of his land, the + excellencies of his wife, the good behavior of his children, and the + innocent pleasures of intercourse with his neighbors—farmers and + landed gentry. Casanova was bored. He began to ask himself irritably why + on earth he had accepted an invitation which could bring nothing but petty + vexations, if not positive disagreeables. He thought longingly of the cool + parlor in Mantua, where at this very hour he might have been working + unhindered at his polemic against Voltaire. He had already made up his + mind to get out at an inn now in sight, hire whatever conveyance might be + available, and drive back to the town, when Olivo uttered a loud “Hullo!” + A pony trap suddenly pulled up, and their own carriage came to a halt, as + if by mutual understanding. Three young girls sprang out, moving with such + activity that the knife-board on which they had been sitting flew into the + air and was overturned. + </p> + <p> + “My daughters,” said Olivo, turning to Casanova with a proprietary air. + </p> + <p> + Casanova promptly moved as if to relinquish his seat in the carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Stay where you are, my dear Chevalier,” said Olivo. “We shall be at home + in a quarter of an hour, and for that little while we can all make shift + together. Maria, Nanetta, Teresina, this is the Chevalier de Seingalt, an + old friend of mine. Shake hands with him. But for him you would....” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, and whispered to Casanova: “I was just going to say + something foolish.” + </p> + <p> + Amending his phrase, he said: “But for him, things would have been very + different!” + </p> + <p> + Like their father, the girls had black hair and dark eyes. All of them + including Teresina, the eldest, who was still quite the child, looked at + the stranger with frank rustic curiosity. Casanova did not stand upon + ceremony; he kissed each of the girls upon either cheek. Olivo said a word + or two to the lad who was driving the trap in which the children had come, + and the fellow whipped up the pony and drove along the road towards + Mantua. + </p> + <p> + Laughing and joking, the girls took possession of the seat opposite Olivo + and Casanova. They were closely packed; they all spoke at once; and since + their father likewise went on talking, Casanova found it far from easy at + first to follow the conversation. One name caught his ear, that of + Lieutenant Lorenzi. Teresina explained that the Lieutenant had passed them + on horseback not long before, had said he intended to call in the evening, + and had sent his respects to Father. Mother had at first meant to come + with them to meet Father, but as it was so frightfully hot she had thought + it better to stay at home with Marcolina. As for Marcolina, she was still + in bed when they left home. When they came along the garden path they had + pelted her with hazel nuts through the open window, or she would still be + asleep. + </p> + <p> + “That’s not Marcolina’s way,” said Olivo to his guest. “Generally she is + at work in the garden at six or even earlier, and sits over her books till + dinner time. Of course we had visitors yesterday, and were up later than + usual. We had a mild game of cards—not the sort of game you are used + to, for we are innocent folk and don’t want to win money from one another. + Besides, our good Abbate usually takes a hand, so you can imagine, + Chevalier, that we don’t play for high stakes.” + </p> + <p> + At the mention of the Abbate, the three girls laughed again, had an + anecdote to tell, and this made them laugh more than ever. Casanova nodded + amicably, without paying much attention. In imagination he saw Marcolina, + as yet unknown to him, lying in her white bed, opposite the window. She + had thrown off the bedclothes; her form was half revealed; still heavy + with sleep she moved her hands to ward off the hail of nuts. His senses + flamed. He was as certain that Marcolina and Lieutenant Lorenzi were in + love with one another as if he had seen them in a passionate embrace. He + was just as ready to detest the unknown Lorenzi as to long for the never + seen Marcolina. + </p> + <p> + Through the shimmering haze of noon, a small, square tower now became + visible, thrusting upward through the greyish-green foliage. The carriage + turned into a by-road. To the left were vineyards rising on a gentle + slope; to the right the crests of ancient trees showed above the wall of a + garden. The carriage halted at a doorway in the wall. The weather-worn + door stood wide. The passengers alighted, and at the master’s nod the + coachman drove away to the stable. A broad path led through a chestnut + avenue to the house, which at first sight had an almost neglected + appearance. Casanova’s attention was especially attracted by a broken + window in the first story. Nor did it escape his notice that the + battlements of the squat tower were crumbling in places. But the house + door was gracefully carved; and directly he entered the hall it was plain + that the interior was carefully kept, and was certainly in far better + condition than might have been supposed from the outward aspect. + </p> + <p> + “Amalia,” shouted Olivo, so loudly that the vaulted ceiling rang. “Come + down as quickly as you can! I have brought a friend home with me, an old + friend whom you’ll be delighted to see!” + </p> + <p> + Amalia had already appeared on the stairs, although to most of those who + had just come out of the glaring sunlight she was invisible in the twilit + interior. Casanova, whose keen vision enabled him to see well even in the + dark, had noted her presence sooner than Olivo. He smiled, and was aware + that the smile made him look younger. Amalia had not grown fat, as he had + feared. She was still slim and youthful. She recognized him instantly. + </p> + <p> + “What a pleasant surprise!” she exclaimed without the slightest + embarrassment, hastening down the stairs, and offering her cheek to + Casanova. The latter, nothing loath, gave her a friendly hug. + </p> + <p> + “Am I really to believe,” said he, “that Maria, Nanetta, and Teresina are + your very own daughters, Amalia? No doubt the passage of the years makes + it possible....” + </p> + <p> + “And all the other evidence is in keeping,” supplemented Olivo. “Rely upon + that, Chevalier!” + </p> + <p> + Amalia let her eyes dwell reminiscently upon the guest. “I suppose,” she + said, “it was your meeting with the Chevalier that has made you so late, + Olivo?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is why I am late. But I hope there is still something to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Marcolina and I were frightfully hungry, but of course we have waited + dinner for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you manage to wait a few minutes longer,” asked Casanova, “while I + get rid of the dust of the drive?” + </p> + <p> + “I will show you your room immediately,” answered Olivo. “I do hope, + Chevalier, you will find it to your taste; almost as much to your taste,” + he winked, and added in a low tone, “as your room in the inn at Mantua—though + here one or two little things may be lacking.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way upstairs into the gallery surrounding the hall. From one of + the corners a narrow wooden stairway led into the tower. At the top, Olivo + opened the door into the turret chamber, and politely invited Casanova to + enter the modest guest chamber. A maidservant brought up the valise. + Casanova was then left alone in a medium-sized room, simply furnished, but + equipped with all necessaries. It had four tall and narrow bay-windows, + commanding views to the four points of the compass, across the sunlit + plain with its green vineyards, bright meadows, golden fields, white + roads, light-colored houses, and dusky gardens. Casanova concerned himself + little about the view, and hastened to remove the stains of travel, being + impelled less by hunger than by an eager curiosity to see Marcolina face + to face. He did not change, for he wished to reserve his best suit for + evening wear. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO. + </h2> + <p> + When Casanova reentered the hall, a panelled chamber on the ground floor, + there were seated at the well-furnished board, his host and hostess, their + three daughters, and a young woman. She was wearing a simple grey dress of + some shimmering material. She had a graceful figure. Her gaze rested on + him as frankly and indifferently as if he were a member of the household, + or had been a guest a hundred times before. Her face did not light up in + the way to which he had grown accustomed in earlier years, when he had + been a charming youth, or later in his handsome prime. But for a good + while now Casanova had ceased to expect this from a new acquaintance. + Nevertheless, even of late the mention of his name had usually sufficed to + arouse on a woman’s face an expression of tardy admiration, or at least + some trace of regret, which was an admission that the hearer would have + loved to meet him a few years earlier. Yet now, when Olivo introduced him + to Marcolina as Signor Casanova, Chevalier de Seingalt, she smiled as she + would have smiled at some utterly indifferent name that carried with it no + aroma of adventure and mystery. Even when he took his seat by her side, + kissed her hand, and allowed his eyes as they dwelt on her to gleam with + delight and desire, her manner betrayed nothing of the demure + gratification that might have seemed an appropriate answer to so ardent a + wooing. + </p> + <p> + After a few polite commonplaces, Casanova told his neighbor that he had + been informed of her intellectual attainments, and asked what was her + chosen subject of study. Her chief interest, she rejoined, was in the + higher mathematics, to which she had been introduced by Professor + Morgagni, the renowned teacher at the university of Bologna. Casanova + expressed his surprise that so charming a young lady should have an + interest, certainly exceptional, in a dry and difficult subject. Marcolina + replied that in her view the higher mathematics was the most imaginative + of all the sciences; one might even say that its nature made it akin to + the divine. When Casanova asked for further enlightenment upon a view so + novel to him, Marcolina modestly declined to continue the topic, declaring + that the others at table, and above all her uncle, would much rather hear + some details of a newly recovered friend’s travels than listen to a + philosophical disquisition. + </p> + <p> + Amalia was prompt to second the proposal; and Casanova, always willing to + oblige in this matter, said in easy-going fashion that during recent years + he had been mainly engaged in secret diplomatic missions. To mention only + places of importance, he had continually been going to and fro between + Madrid, Paris, London, Amsterdam, and St. Petersburg. He gave an account + of meetings and conversations, some grave and some gay, with men and women + of all classes, and did not forget to speak of his friendly reception at + the court of Catharine of Russia. He jestingly related how Frederick the + Great had nearly appointed him instructor at a cadet school for Pomeranian + junkers—a danger from which he had escaped by a precipitous flight. + Of these and many other things he spoke as recent happenings, although in + reality they had occurred years or decades before. Romancing freely, he + was hardly conscious when he was lying either on a small scale or on a + large, being equally delighted with his own conceits and with the pleasure + he was giving to his auditors. While thus recounting real and imaginary + incidents, he could almost delude himself into the belief that he was + still the bold, radiant Casanova, the favorite of fortune and of beautiful + women, the honored guest of secular and spiritual princes, the man whose + spendings and gamblings and gifts must be reckoned in thousands. It was + possible for him to forget that he was a decayed starveling, supported by + pitiful remittances from former friends in England and Spain—-doles + which often failed to arrive, so that he was reduced to the few and paltry + gold pieces which he could win from Baron Perotti or from the Baron’s + guests. He could even forget that his highest aim now was to return to his + natal city where he had been cast into prison and from which, since his + escape, he had been banned; to return as one of the meanest of its + citizens, as writer, as beggar, as nonentity; to accept so inglorious a + close to a once brilliant career. + </p> + <p> + Marcolina listened attentively like the others, but with the same + expression as if she had been listening to someone reading aloud from an + amusing narrative. Her face did not betray the remotest realization of the + fact that the speaker was Casanova; that she was listening to the man who + had had all these experiences and many more; that she was sitting beside + the lover of a thousand women. Very different was the fire in Amalia’s + eyes. To her, Casanova was the same as ever. To her, his voice was no less + seductive than it had been sixteen years earlier. He could not but be + aware that at a word or a sign, and as soon as he pleased, he could revive + this old adventure. But what to him was Amalia at this hour, when he + longed for Marcolina as he had never longed for woman before. Beneath the + shimmering folds of her dress he seemed to see her naked body; her firm + young breasts allured him; once when she stooped to pick up her + handkerchief, Casanova’s inflamed fancy made him attach so ardent a + significance to her movement that he felt near to swooning. Marcolina did + not fail to notice the involuntary pause in the flow of his conversation; + she perceived that his gaze had begun to flicker strangely. In her + countenance he could read a sudden hostility, a protest, a trace of + disgust. + </p> + <p> + Casanova speedily recovered his self-command, and was about to continue + his reminiscences with renewed vigor, when a portly priest entered. Olivo + introduced him as Abbate Rossi, and Casanova at once recognized him as the + man he had met twenty-seven years earlier upon a market boat plying + between Venice and Chioggia. + </p> + <p> + “You had one eye bandaged,” said Casanova, who rarely missed a chance of + showing off his excellent memory. “A young peasant-woman wearing a yellow + kerchief round her head advised you to use a healing unguent which an + apothecary with an exceedingly hoarse voice happened to have with him.” + </p> + <p> + The Abbate nodded, and smiled, well-pleased. Then, with a sly expression, + he came quite close to Casanova, as if about to tell him a secret. But he + spoke out loud. + </p> + <p> + “As for you, Signor Casanova, you were with a wedding party. I don’t know + whether you were one of the ordinary guests or whether you were best man, + but I remember that the bride looked at you far more languishingly than at + the bridegroom. The wind rose; there was half a gale; you began to read a + risky poem.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt the Chevalier only did so in order to lay the storm,” said + Marcolina. + </p> + <p> + “I never claim the powers of a wizard,” rejoined Casanova. “But I will not + deny that after I had begun to read, no one bothered about the storm.” The + three girls had encircled the Abbate. For an excellent reason. From his + capacious pockets he produced quantities of luscious sweets, and popped + them into the children’s mouths with his stumpy fingers. Meanwhile Olivo + gave the newcomer a circumstantial account of the rediscovery of Casanova. + Dreamily Amalia continued to gaze at the beloved guest’s masterful brown + forehead. + </p> + <p> + The children ran out into the garden; Marcolina had risen from the table + and was watching them through the open window. The Abbate had brought a + message from the Marchese Celsi, who proposed to call that evening, with + his wife, upon his dear friend Olivo. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent,” said Olivo. “We shall have a pleasant game of cards in honor + of the Chevalier. I am expecting the two Ricardis; and Lorenzi is also + coming—the girls met him out riding this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he still here?” asked the Abbate. “A week ago I was told he had to + rejoin his regiment.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect the Marchesa got him an extension of leave from the Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I am surprised,” interjected Casanova, “that any Mantuese officers can + get leave at present.” He went on: “Two friends of mine, one from Mantua + and the other from Cremona, left last night with their regiments, marching + towards Milan.” + </p> + <p> + “Has war broken out?” inquired Marcolina from the window. She had turned + round; her face betrayed nothing, but there was a slight quaver in her + voice which no one but Casanova noticed. + </p> + <p> + “It may come to nothing,” he said lightly. “But the Spaniards seem rather + bellicose, and it is necessary to be on the alert.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo looked important and wrinkled his brow. “Does anyone know,” he + asked, “whether we shall side with Spain or with France?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think Lieutenant Lorenzi will care a straw about that,” suggested + the Abbate. “All he wants is a chance to prove his military prowess.” + </p> + <p> + “He has done so already,” said Amalia. “He was in the battle at Pavia + three years ago.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina said not a word. + </p> + <p> + Casanova knew enough. He went to the window beside Marcolina and looked + out into the garden. He saw nothing but the wide greensward where the + children were playing. It was surrounded by a close-set row of stately + trees within the encompassing wall. + </p> + <p> + “What lovely grounds,” he said, turning to Olivo. “I should so like to + have a look at them.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing would please me better, Chevalier,” answered Olivo, “than to show + you my vineyards and the rest of my estate. You need only ask Amalia, and + she will tell you that during the years since I bought this little place I + have had no keener desire than to welcome you as guest upon my own land + and under my own roof. Ten times at least I was on the point of writing + you an invitation, but was always withheld by the doubt whether my letter + would reach you. If I did happen to hear from some one that he had + recently seen you in Lisbon, I could be quite sure that in the interval + you would have left for Warsaw or Vienna. Now, when as if by miracle I + have caught you on the point of quitting Mantua, and when—I can + assure you, Amalia, it was no easy matter—I have succeeded in + enticing you here, you are so niggard with your time that—would you + believe it, Signor Abbate, he refuses to spare us more than a couple of + days!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the Chevalier will allow himself to be persuaded to prolong his + visit,” said the Abbate, who was contentedly munching a huge mouthful of + peach. As he spoke, he glanced at Amalia in a way that led Casanova to + infer that his hostess had told the Abbate more than she had told her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that will be quite impossible,” said Casanova with decision. “I + need not conceal from friends who are so keenly interested in my fortunes, + that my Venetian fellow-citizens are on the point of atoning for the + injustice of earlier years. The atonement comes rather late, but is all + the more honorable. I should seem ungrateful, or even rancorous, were I to + resist their importunities any longer.” With a wave of his hand he warded + off an eager but respectful enquiry which he saw taking shape upon his + host’s lips, and hastened to remark: “Well, Olivo, I am ready. Show me + your little kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it not be wiser,” interposed Amalia, “to wait until it is cooler? I + am sure the Chevalier would prefer to rest for a while, or to stroll in + the shade.” Her eyes sought Casanova’s with shy entreaty, as if she + thought her fate would be decided once again during such a walk in the + garden. + </p> + <p> + No one had anything to say against Amalia’s suggestion, and they all went + out of doors. Marcolina, who led the way, ran across the sunlit greensward + to join the children in their game of battledore and shuttlecock. She was + hardly taller than the eldest of the three girls; and when her hair came + loose in the exercise and floated over her shoulders she too looked like a + child. Olivo and the Abbate seated themselves on a stone bench beneath the + trees, not far from the house. Amalia sauntered on with Casanova. As soon + as the two were out of hearing, she began to converse with Casanova in a + tone which seemed to ignore the lapse of years. + </p> + <p> + “So we meet again, Casanova! How I have longed for this day. I never + doubted its coming.” + </p> + <p> + “A mere chance has brought me,” said Casanova coldly. + </p> + <p> + Amalia smiled. “Have it your own way,” she said. “Anyhow, you are here! + All these sixteen years I have done nothing but dream of this day!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help thinking,” countered Casanova, “that throughout the long + interval you must have dreamed of many other things—and must have + done more than dream.” + </p> + <p> + Amalia shook her head. “You know better, Casanova. Nor had you forgotten + me, for were it otherwise, in your eagerness to get to Venice, you would + never have accepted Olivo’s invitation.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, Amalia? Can you imagine I have come here to betray your + husband?” + </p> + <p> + “How can you use such a phrase, Casanova? Were I to be yours once again, + there would be neither betrayal nor sin.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova laughed. “No sin? Wherefore not? Because I’m an old man?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not old. For me you can never be an old man. In your arms I had + my first taste of bliss, and I doubt not it is my destiny that my last + bliss shall be shared with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Your last?” rejoined Casanova cynically, though he was not altogether + unmoved. “I think my friend Olivo would have a word to say about that.” + </p> + <p> + “What you speak of,” said Amalia reddening, “is duty, and even pleasure; + but it is not and never has been bliss.” + </p> + <p> + They did not walk to the end of the grass alley. Both seemed to shun the + neighborhood of the greensward, where Marcolina and the children were + playing. As if by common consent they retraced their steps, and, silent + now, approached the house again. One of the ground-floor windows at the + gable end of the house was open. Through this Casanova glimpsed in the + dark interior a half-drawn curtain, from behind which the foot of a bed + projected. Over an adjoining chair was hanging a light, gauzy dress. + </p> + <p> + “Is that Marcolina’s room?” enquired Casanova. + </p> + <p> + Amalia nodded. “Do you like her?” she said—nonchalantly, as it + seemed to Casanova. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, since she is good looking.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a good girl as well.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova shrugged, as if the goodness were no concern of his. Then: “Tell + me, Amalia, did you think me still handsome when you first saw me to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know if your looks have changed. To me you seem just the same as + of old. You are as I have always seen you, as I have seen you in my + dreams.” + </p> + <p> + “Look well, Amalia. See the wrinkles on my forehead; the loose folds of my + neck; the crow’s-feet round my eyes. And look,” he grinned, “I have lost + one of my eye teeth. Look at these hands, too, Amalia. My fingers are like + claws; there are yellow spots on the finger-nails; the blue veins stand + out. They are the hands of an old man.” + </p> + <p> + She clasped both his hands as he held them out for her to see, and + affectionately kissed them one after the other in the shaded walk. + “To-night, I will kiss you on the lips,” she said, with a mingling of + humility and tenderness, which roused his gall. + </p> + <p> + Close by, where the alley opened on to the greensward, Marcolina was + stretched on the grass, her hands clasped beneath her head, looking + skyward while the shuttlecocks flew to and fro. Suddenly reaching upwards, + she seized one of them in mid air, and laughed triumphantly. The girls + flung themselves upon her as she lay defenceless. + </p> + <p> + Casanova thrilled. “Neither my lips nor my hands are yours to kiss. Your + waiting for me and your dreams of me will prove to have been vain—unless + I should first make Marcolina mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad, Casanova?” exclaimed Amalia, with distress in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “If I am, we are both on the same footing,” replied Casanova. “You are mad + because in me, an old man, you think that you can rediscover the beloved + of your youth; I am mad because I have taken it into my head that I wish + to possess Marcolina. But perhaps we shall both be restored to reason. + Marcolina shall restore me to youth—for you. So help me to my + wishes, Amalia!” + </p> + <p> + “You are really beside yourself, Casanova. What you ask is impossible. She + will have nothing to do with any man.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova laughed. “What about Lieutenant Lorenzi?” + </p> + <p> + “Lorenzi? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “He is her lover. I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are utterly mistaken. He asked for her hand, and she rejected his + proposal. Yet he is young and handsome. I almost think him handsomer than + you ever were, Casanova!” + </p> + <p> + “He was a suitor for her hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Ask Olivo if you don’t believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do I care about that? What care I whether she be virgin or + strumpet, wife or widow—I want to make her mine!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t give her to you, my friend!” Amalia’s voice expressed genuine + concern. + </p> + <p> + “You see for yourself,” he said, “what a pitiful creature I have become. + Ten years ago, five years ago, I should have needed neither helper nor + advocate, even though Marcolina had been the very goddess of virtue. And + now I am trying to make you play the procuress. If I were only a rich man. + Had I but ten thousand ducats. But I have not even ten. I am a beggar, + Amalia.” + </p> + <p> + “Had you a hundred thousand, you could not buy Marcolina. What does she + care about money? She loves books, the sky, the meadows, butterflies, + playing with children. She has inherited a small competence which more + than suffices for her needs.” + </p> + <p> + “Were I but a sovereign prince,” cried Casanova, somewhat theatrically, as + was his wont when strongly moved. “Had I but the power to commit men to + prison, to send them to the scaffold. But I am nothing. A beggar, and a + liar into the bargain. I importune the Supreme Council for a post, a crust + of bread, a home! What a poor thing have I become! Are you not sickened by + me, Amalia?” + </p> + <p> + “I love you, Casanova!” + </p> + <p> + “Then give her to me, Amalia. It rests with you, I am confident. Tell her + what you please. Say I have threatened you. Say you think I am capable of + setting fire to the house. Say I am a fool, a dangerous lunatic escaped + from an asylum, but that the embraces of a virgin will restore me to + sanity. Yes, tell her that.” + </p> + <p> + “She does not believe in miracles.” + </p> + <p> + “Does not believe in miracles? Then she does not believe in God either. So + much the better! I have influence with the Archbishop of Milan. Tell her + so. I can ruin her. I can destroy you all. It is true, Amalia. What books + does she read? Doubtless some of them are on the Index. Let me see them. I + will compile a list. A hint from me....” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word more, Casanova! Here she comes. Keep yourself well in hand; do + not let your eyes betray you. Listen, Casanova; I have never known a + purer-minded girl. Did she suspect what I have heard from you, she would + feel herself soiled, and for the rest of your stay she would not so much + as look at you. Talk to her; talk to her. You will soon ask her pardon and + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina came up with the girls, who ran on into the house. She paused, + as if out of courtesy to the guest, standing before him, while Amalia + deliberately withdrew. Indeed, it actually seemed to Casanova that from + those pale, half-parted lips, from the smooth brow crowned with + light-brown hair now restored to order, there emanated an aroma of + aloofness and purity. Rarely had he had this feeling with regard to any + woman; nor had he had it in the case of Marcolina when they were within + four walls. A devotional mood, a spirit of self-sacrifice knowing nothing + of desire, seemed to take possession of his soul. Discreetly, in a + respectful tone such as at that day was customary towards persons of rank, + in a manner which she could not but regard as flattering, he enquired + whether it was her purpose to resume her studies that evening. She + answered that in the country her work was somewhat irregular. + Nevertheless, even during free hours, mathematical problems upon which she + had recently been pondering, would at times invade her mind unawares. This + had just happened while she was lying on the greensward gazing up into the + sky. + </p> + <p> + Casanova, emboldened by the friendliness of her demeanor, asked jestingly + what was the nature of this lofty, urgent problem. She replied, in much + the same tone, that it had nothing whatever to do with the Cabala, with + which, so rumor ran, the Chevalier de Seingalt worked wonders. He would + therefore not know what to make of her problem. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was piqued that she should speak of the Cabala with such + unconcealed contempt. In his rare hours of heart-searching he was well + aware that the mystical system of numbers which passed by that name had + neither sense nor purpose. He knew it had no correspondence with any + natural reality; that it was no more than an instrument whereby cheats and + jesters—Casanova assumed these roles by turn, and was a master + player in both capacities—could lead credulous fools by the nose. + Nevertheless, in defiance of his own better judgment, he now undertook to + defend the Cabala as a serious and perfectly valid science. He spoke of + the divine nature of the number seven, to which there are so many + references in Holy Writ; of the deep prophetic significance of pyramids of + figures, for the construction of which he had himself invented a new + system; and of the frequent fulfilment of the forecasts he had based upon + this system. In Amsterdam, a few years ago, through the use of arithmancy, + he had induced Hope the banker to take over the insurance of a ship which + was already reported lost, whereby the banker had made two hundred + thousand gold guilders. He held forth so eloquently in defence of his + preposterous theories that, as often happened, he began to believe all the + nonsense he was talking. At length he went so far as to maintain that the + Cabala was not so much a branch of mathematics as the metaphysical + perfectionment of mathematics. + </p> + <p> + At this point, Marcolina, who had been listening attentively and with + apparent seriousness, suddenly assumed a half-commiserating, + half-mischievous expression, and said: + </p> + <p> + “You are trying, Signor Casanova”—she seemed deliberately to avoid + addressing him as Chevalier—“to give me an elaborate proof of your + renowned talent as entertainer, and I am extremely grateful to you. But of + course you know as well as I do that the Cabala has not merely nothing to + do with mathematics, but is in conflict with the very essence of + mathematics. The Cabala bears to mathematics the same sort of relationship + that the confused or fallacious chatter of the Sophists bore to the + serene, lofty doctrines of Plato and of Aristotle.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, beautiful and learned Marcolina, you will admit,” answered + Casanova promptly, “that even the Sophists were far from being such + contemptible, foolish apprentices as your harsh criticism would imply. Let + me give you a contemporary example. M. Voltaire’s whole technique of + thought and writing entitles us to describe him as an Arch-Sophist. Yet no + one will refuse the due meed of honor to his extraordinary talent. I would + not myself refuse it, though I am at this moment engaged in composing a + polemic against him. Let me add that I am not allowing myself to be + influenced in his favor by recollection of the extreme civility he was + good enough to show me when I visited him at Ferney ten years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “It is really most considerate of you to be so lenient in your criticism + of the greatest mind of the century!” Marcolina smilingly retorted. + </p> + <p> + “A great mind—the greatest of the century!” exclaimed Casanova. “To + give him such a designation seems to me inadmissible, were it only + because, for all his genius, he is an ungodly man—nay positively an + atheist. No atheist can be a man of great mind.” + </p> + <p> + “As I see the matter, there is no such incompatibility. But the first + thing you have to prove is your title to describe Voltaire as an atheist.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova was now in his element. In the opening chapter of his polemic he + had cited from Voltaire’s works, especially from the famous <i>Pucelle</i>, + a number of passages that seemed peculiarly well-fitted to justify the + charge of atheism. Thanks to his unfailing memory, he was able to repeat + these citations verbatim, and to marshal his own counter-arguments. But in + Marcolina he had to cope with an opponent who was little inferior to + himself in extent of knowledge and mental acumen; and who, moreover, + excelled him, not perhaps in fluency of speech, but at any rate in + artistry of presentation and clarity of expression. The passages Casanova + had selected as demonstrating Voltaire’s spirit of mockery, his + scepticism, and his atheism, were adroitly interpreted by Marcolina as + testifying to the Frenchman’s scientific genius, to his skill as an + author, and to his indefatigable ardor in the search for truth. She boldly + contended that doubt, mockery, nay unbelief itself, if associated with + such a wealth of knowledge, such absolute honesty, and such high courage, + must be more pleasing to God than the humility of the pious, which was apt + to be a mask for lack of capacity to think logically, and often enough—there + were plenty of examples—a mask for cowardice and hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + Casanova listened with growing astonishment. He felt quite incompetent to + convert Marcolina to his own way of thinking; all the more as he + increasingly realized that her counterstrokes were threatening to demolish + the tottering intellectual edifice which, of late years, he had been + accustomed to mistake for faith. He took refuge in the trite assertion + that such views as Marcolina’s were a menace, not only to the + ecclesiastical ordering of society, but to the very foundations of social + life. This enabled him to make a clever change of front, to pass into the + field of politics, where he hoped that his wide experience and his + knowledge of the world would render it possible for him to get the better + of his adversary. But although she lacked acquaintance with the notable + personalities of the age; although she was without inside knowledge of + courtly and diplomatic intrigues; although, therefore, she had to renounce + any attempt to answer Casanova in detail, even when she felt there was + good reason to distrust the accuracy of his assertions—nevertheless, + it was clear to him from the tenor of her remarks, that she had little + respect for the princes of the earth or for the institutions of state; and + she made no secret of her conviction that, alike in small things and in + great, the world was not so much a world ruled by selfishness and lust for + power, as a world in a condition of hopeless confusion. Rarely had + Casanova encountered such freedom of thought in women; never had he met + with anything of the kind in a girl who was certainly not yet twenty years + old. It was painful to him to remember that in earlier and better days his + own mind had with deliberate, self-complacent boldness moved along the + paths whereon Marcolina was now advancing—although in her case there + did not seem to exist any consciousness of exceptional courage. Fascinated + by the uniqueness of her methods of thought and expression, he almost + forgot that he was walking beside a young, beautiful, desirable woman, a + forgetfulness all the more remarkable as the two were alone in the leafy + alley, and at a considerable distance from the house. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, breaking off in the middle of a sentence, Marcolina joyfully + exclaimed, “Here comes my uncle!” + </p> + <p> + Casanova, as if he had to rectify an omission, whispered in her ear: “What + a nuisance. I should have liked to go on talking to you for hours, + Marcolina.” He was aware that his eyes were again lighting up with desire. + </p> + <p> + At this Marcolina, who in the spirited exchange of their recent + conversation had almost abandoned her defensive attitude, displayed a + renewed reserve. Her expression manifested the same protest, the same + repulsion, which had wounded Casanova earlier in the day. + </p> + <p> + “Am I really so repulsive?” he anxiously asked himself. Then, replying in + thought to his own question: “No, that is not the reason. Marcolina is not + really a woman. She is a she-professor, a she-philosopher, one of the + wonders of the world perhaps—but not a woman.” + </p> + <p> + Yet even as he mused, he knew he was merely attempting to deceive himself, + console himself, save himself; and all his endeavors were vain. + </p> + <p> + Olivo, who had now come up, addressed Marcolina. “Have I not done well to + invite some one here with whom you can converse as learnedly as with your + professors at Bologna?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Uncle,” answered Marcolina, “there was not one of them who would + have ventured to challenge Voltaire to a duel!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Voltaire? The Chevalier has called him out?” cried Olivo, + misunderstanding the jest. + </p> + <p> + “Your witty niece, Olivo, refers to the polemic on which I have been at + work for the last few days, the pastime of leisure hours. I used to have + weightier occupations.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina, ignoring this remark, said: “You will find it pleasantly cool + now for your walk. Goodbye for the present.” She nodded a farewell, and + moved briskly across the greensward to the house. + </p> + <p> + Casanova, repressing an impulse to follow her with his eyes, enquired: “Is + Signora Amalia coming with us?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Chevalier,” answered Olivo. “She has a number of things to attend to + in the house; and besides, this is the girls’ lesson time.” + </p> + <p> + “What an excellent housewife and mother! You’re a lucky fellow, Olivo!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell myself the same thing every day,” responded Olivo, with tears in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + They passed by the gable end of the house. Marcolina’s window was still + open; the pale, diaphanous gown showed up against the dark background of + the room. Along the wide chestnut avenue they made their way on to the + road, now completely in the shade. Leisurely, they walked up the slope + skirting the garden wall. Where it ended, the vineyard began. Between tall + poles, from which purple clusters hung, Olivo led his guest to the summit. + With a complacent air of ownership, he waved towards the house, lying at + the foot of the hill. Casanova fancied he could detect a female figure + flitting to and fro in the turret chamber. + </p> + <p> + The sun was near to setting, but the heat was still considerable. Beads of + perspiration coursed down Olivo’s cheeks, but Casanova’s brow showed no + trace of moisture. Strolling down the farther slope, they reached an olive + grove. From tree to tree vines were trained trellis-wise, while between + the rows of olive trees golden ears of corn swayed in the breeze. + </p> + <p> + “In a thousand ways,” said Casanova appreciatively, “the sun brings + increase.” + </p> + <p> + With even greater wealth of detail than before, Olivo recounted how he had + acquired this fine estate, and how two great vintage years and two good + harvests had made him a well-to-do, in fact a wealthy, man. + </p> + <p> + Casanova pursued the train of his own thoughts, attending to Olivo’s + narrative only in so far as was requisite to enable him from time to time + to interpose a polite question or to make an appropriate comment. Nothing + claimed his interest until Olivo, after talking of all and sundry, came + back to the topic of his family, and at length to Marcolina. But Casanova + learned little that was new. She had lost her mother early. Her father, + Olivo’s half-brother, had been a physician in Bologna. Marcolina, while + still a child, had astonished everyone by her precocious intelligence; but + the marvel was soon staled by custom. A few years later, her father died. + Since then she had been an inmate in the household of a distinguished + professor at the university of Bologna, Morgagni to wit, who hoped that + his pupil would become a woman of great learning. She always spent the + summer with her uncle. There had been several proposals for her hand; one + from a Bolognese merchant; one from a neighboring landowner; and lastly + the proposal of Lieutenant Lorenzi. She had refused them all, and it + seemed to be her design to devote her whole life to the service of + knowledge. As Olivo rambled on with his story, Casanova’s desires grew + beyond measure, while the recognition that these desires were utterly + foolish and futile reduced him almost to despair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE. + </h2> + <p> + Casanova and Olivo regained the highroad. In a cloud of dust, a carriage + drove up, and as they drew near the occupants shouted greetings. The + newcomers were an elderly gentleman in elegant attire and a lady who was + somewhat younger, of generous proportions, and conspicuously rouged. + </p> + <p> + “The Marchese,” whispered Olivo to his companion. + </p> + <p> + The carriage halted. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, my dear Olivo,” said the Marchese. “Will you be so good as + to introduce me to the Chevalier de Seingalt? I have no doubt that it is + the Chevalier whom I have the pleasure of seeing.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova bowed, saying: “Yes, I am he.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the Marchese Celsi. Let me present the Marchesa, my spouse.” The + lady offered her finger tips. Casanova touched them with his lips. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese was two or three inches taller than Casanova, and unnaturally + lean. He had a narrow face, of a yellow, waxy tint; his greenish eyes were + piercing; his thick eyebrows were of reddish color, and met across the + root of the nose. These characteristics gave him a somewhat formidable + aspect. “My good Olivo,” he said, “we are all going to the same + destination. Since it is little more than half a mile to your house, I + shall get out and walk with you. You won’t mind driving the rest of the + way alone,” he added, turning to the Marchesa, who had meanwhile been + gazing at Casanova with searching, passionate eyes. Without awaiting his + wife’s answer, the Marchese nodded to the coachman, who promptly lashed + the horses furiously, as if he had some reason for driving his mistress + away at top speed. In an instant the carriage vanished in a whirl of dust. + </p> + <p> + “The whole neighborhood,” said the Marchese, “is already aware that the + Chevalier de Seingalt has come to spend a few days with his friend Olivo. + It must be glorious to bear so renowned a name.” + </p> + <p> + “You flatter me, Signor Marchese,” replied Casanova. “I have not yet + abandoned the hope of winning such a name, but I am still far from having + done so. It may be that a work on which I am now engaged will bring me + nearer to the goal.” + </p> + <p> + “We can take a short cut here,” said Olivo, turning into a path which led + straight to the wall of his garden. + </p> + <p> + “Work?” echoed the Marchese with a doubtful air. “May I enquire to what + work you refer, Chevalier?” + </p> + <p> + “If you ask me that question, Signor Marchese, I shall in my turn feel + impelled to enquire what you meant just now when you referred to my + renown.” + </p> + <p> + Arrogantly he faced the Marchese’s piercing eyes. He knew perfectly well + that neither his romance <i>Icosameron</i> nor yet his <i>Confutazione + della storia del governo veneto d’Amelot de la Houssaie</i> had brought + him any notable reputation as an author. Nevertheless it was his pose to + imply that for him no other sort of reputation was desirable. He therefore + deliberately misunderstood the Marchese’s tentative observations and + cautious allusions, which implied that Casanova was a celebrated seducer, + gamester, man of affairs, political emissary, or what not. Celsi made no + reference to authorship, for he had never heard of either the <i>Refutation + of Amelot</i> or the <i>Icosameron</i>. At length, therefore, in polite + embarrassment, he said: “After all, there is only one Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + “There, likewise, you are mistaken, Signor Marchese,” said Casanova + coldly. “I have relatives, and a connoisseur like yourself must surely be + acquainted with the name of one of my brothers, Francesco Casanova, the + painter.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed that the Marchese had no claim to connoisseurship in this field + either, and he turned the conversation to acquaintances living in Naples, + Rome, Milan, or Mantua, persons whom Casanova was not unlikely to have + met. In this connection he also mentioned the name of Baron Perotti, but + somewhat contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was constrained to admit that he often played cards at the + Baron’s house. “For distraction,” he explained; “for half an hour’s + relaxation before bedtime. In general, I have given up this way of wasting + my time.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said the Marchese, “for I must own it has been one of the + dreams of my life to cross swords with you. Not only, indeed, at the card + table; for when I was younger I would gladly have been your rival in other + fields. Would you believe it—I forget how long ago it was—I + once entered Spa on the very day, at the very hour, when you left the + place. Our carriages must have passed one another on the road. In + Ratisbon, too, I had the same piece of ill luck. There I actually occupied + the room of which your tenancy had just expired.” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed unfortunate,” said Casanova, flattered in spite of himself, + “that people’s paths so often cross too late in life.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet too late!” exclaimed the Marchese. “There are certain respects in + which I shall not be loath to avow myself vanquished before the fight + begins. But as regards games of chance, my dear Chevalier, we are perhaps + both of us precisely at the age....” + </p> + <p> + Casanova cut him short. “At the age—very likely. Unfortunately, + however, I can no longer look forward to the pleasure of measuring myself + at the card table with a partner of your rank. The reason is simple.” He + spoke in the tone of a dethroned sovereign. “Despite my renown, my dear + Marchese, I am now practically reduced to the condition of a beggar.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchese involuntarily lowered his eyes before Casanova’s haughty + gaze. He shook his head incredulously, as if he had been listening to a + strange jest. Olivo, who had followed the conversation with the keenest + attention, and had accompanied the skilful parries of his marvellous + friend with approving nods, could hardly repress a gesture of alarm. They + had just reached a narrow wooden door in the garden wall. Olivo produced a + key, and turned the creaking lock. Giving the Marchese precedence into the + garden, he arrested Casanova by the arm, whispering: + </p> + <p> + “You must take back those last words, Chevalier, before you set foot in my + house again. The money I have been owing you these sixteen years awaits + you. I was only afraid to speak of it. Amalia will tell you. It is counted + out and ready. I had proposed to hand it over to you on your + departure....” + </p> + <p> + Casanova gently interrupted him. “You owe me nothing, Olivo. You know + perfectly well that those paltry gold pieces were a wedding present from + the friend of Amalia’s mother. Please drop the subject. What are a few + ducats to me?” He raised his voice as he spoke, so that the Marchese, who + had paused at a few paces’ distance could hear the concluding words. “I + stand at a turning-point in my fortunes.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo exchanged glances with Casanova, as if asking permission, and then + explained to the Marchese: “You must know that the Chevalier has been + summoned to Venice, and will set out for home in a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather put it,” remarked Casanova as they approached the house, + “that summonses, growing ever more urgent, have been reaching me for a + considerable while. But it seems to me that the senators took long enough + to make up their minds, and may in their turn practise the virtue of + patience.” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably,” said the Marchese, “you are entitled to stand upon your + dignity, Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + They emerged from the avenue on to the greensward, across which the shadow + of the house had now lengthened. Close to the dwelling, the rest of the + little company was awaiting them. All rose and came to meet them. The + Abbate led the way, with Marcolina and Amalia on either side. They were + followed by the Marchesa, with whom came a tall, young officer, clad in a + red uniform trimmed with silver lace, and wearing jack-boots—evidently + Lorenzi. As he spoke to the Marchesa, he scanned her powdered shoulders as + if they were well-known samples of other beauties with which he was + equally familiar. The Marchesa smiled up at him beneath half-closed lids. + Even a tyro in such matters could hardly fail to realize the nature of + their relationship, or to perceive that they were quite unconcerned at its + disclosure. They were conversing in animated fashion, but in low tones; + and they ceased talking only when they caught up with the others. + </p> + <p> + Olivo introduced Casanova and Lorenzi to one another. They exchanged + glances with a cold aloofness that seemed to offer mutual assurances of + dislike; then, with a forced smile, both bowed stiffly without offering to + shake hands. Lorenzi was handsome, with a narrow visage and features + sharply cut for his age. At the back of his eyes something difficult to + grasp seemed to lurk, something likely to suggest caution to one of + experience. For a moment, Casanova was in doubt as to who it was that + Lorenzi reminded him of. Then he realized that his own image stood before + him, the image of himself as he had been thirty years before. “Have I been + reincarnated in his form?” Casanova asked himself. “But I must have died + before that could happen.” It flashed through his mind: “Have I not been + dead for a long time? What is there left of the Casanova who was young, + handsome, and happy?” Amalia broke in upon his musings. As if from a + distance, though she stood close at hand, she asked him how he had enjoyed + his walk. Raising his voice so that all could hear, he expressed his + admiration for the fertile, well-managed estate. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile upon the greensward the maidservant was laying the table for + supper. The two elder girls were “helping.” With much fuss and giggling, + they brought out of the house the silver, the wine glasses, and other + requisites. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the dusk fell; a cool breeze stirred through the garden. + Marcolina went to the table, to put the finishing touches to the work of + the maidservant and the girls. The others wandered about the greensward + and along the alleys. The Marchesa was extremely polite to Casanova. She + said that the story of his remarkable escape from The Leads in Venice was + not unknown to her, but it would be a pleasure to hear it from his own + lips. With a meaning smile she added that she understood him to have had + far more dangerous adventures, which he might perhaps be less inclined to + recount. Casanova rejoined that he had indeed had a number of lively + experiences, but had never made serious acquaintance with that mode of + existence whose meaning and very essence were danger. Although, many years + before, during troublous times, he had for a few months been a soldier + upon the island of Corfu (was there any profession on earth into which the + current of fate had not drifted him?), he had never had the good fortune + to go through a real campaign, such as that which, he understood, + Lieutenant Lorenzi was about to experience—a piece of luck for which + he was inclined to envy the Lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “Then you know more than I do, Signor Casanova,” said Lorenzi in a + challenging tone. “Indeed, you are better informed than the Colonel + himself, for he has just given me an indefinite extension of leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” exclaimed the Marchese, unable to master his rage. He added + spitefully: “Do you know, Lorenzi, we, or rather my wife, had counted so + definitely on your leaving, that we had invited one of our friends, Baldi + the singer, to stay with us next week.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” rejoined Lorenzi, unperturbed. “Baldi and I are the best of + friends. We shall get on famously together. You think so, don’t you?” he + said, turning to the Marchesa with a smile. “You’d better!” said the + Marchesa, laughing gaily. + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she seated herself at the table, beside Olivo, with Lorenzi + on the other hand. Opposite sat Amalia, between the Marchese and Casanova. + Next to Casanova, at one end of the long, narrow table, was Marcolina; + next to Olivo, at the other end, sat the Abbate. Supper, like dinner, was + a simple but tasteful meal. The two elder girls, Teresina and Nanetta, + waited on the guests, and served the excellent wine grown on Olivo’s + hillsides. Both the Marchese and the Abbate paid their thanks to the young + waitresses with playful and somewhat equivocal caresses which a stricter + parent than Olivo would probably have discountenanced. Amalia seemed to be + unaware of all this. She was pale, dejected, and looked like a woman + determined to be old, since her own youth had ceased to interest her. + </p> + <p> + “Is this all that remains of my empire?” thought Casanova bitterly, + contemplating her in profile. Yet perhaps it was the illumination which + gave so gloomy a cast to Amalia’s features. From the interior of the house + a broad beam of light fell upon the guests. Otherwise the glimmer in the + sky sufficed them. The dark crests of the trees limited the outlook; + Casanova was reminded of the eerie garden in which, late one evening many + years before, he had awaited the coming of his mistress. + </p> + <p> + “Murano!” he whispered to himself, and trembled. Then he spoke aloud: “On + an island near Venice there is a convent garden where I last set foot + several decades ago. At night, there, the scent is just like this.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever a monk?” asked the Marchesa, sportively. + </p> + <p> + “All but,” replied Casanova with a smile, explaining, truthfully enough, + that when he was a lad of fifteen he had been given minor orders by the + archbishop of Venice, but that before attaining full manhood he had + decided to lay aside the cassock. + </p> + <p> + The Abbate mentioned that there was a nunnery close at hand, and strongly + recommended Casanova to visit the place if he had never seen it. Olivo + heartily endorsed the recommendation, singing the praises of the + picturesque old building, the situation, and the diversified beauties of + the approach. + </p> + <p> + “The Lady Abbess, Sister Serafina,” continued the Abbate, “is an extremely + learned woman, a duchess by birth. She has told me—by letter, of + course, for the inmates are under a vow of perpetual silence—that + she has heard of Marcolina’s erudition, and would like to meet her face to + face.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, Marcolina,” said Lorenzi, speaking to her for the first time, + “that you will not attempt to imitate the noble abbess in other respects + as well as learning.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” rejoined Marcolina serenely. “We can maintain our freedom + without vows. Better without than with, for a vow is a form of coercion.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova was sitting next to her. He did not dare to let his foot touch + hers lightly, or to press his knee against hers. He was certain that + should she for the third time look at him with that expression of horror + and loathing, he would be driven to some act of folly. As the meal + progressed, as the number of emptied glasses grew and the conversation + waxed livelier and more general, Casanova heard, once more as from afar, + Amalia’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken to Marcolina.” + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken to her?” A mad hope flamed up in him. “Calm yourself, + Casanova. We did not speak of you, but only of her and her plans for the + future. I say to you again, she will never give herself to any man.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo, who had been drinking freely, suddenly rose, glass in hand, and + delivered himself of a few stumbling phrases concerning the great honor + conferred upon his humble home by the visit of his dear friend, the + Chevalier de Seingalt. + </p> + <p> + “But where, my dear Olivo, is the Chevalier de Seingalt of whom you + speak?” enquired Lorenzi in his clear, insolent voice. + </p> + <p> + Casanova’s first impulse was to throw the contents of his glass in + Lorenzi’s face. + </p> + <p> + Amalia touched his arm lightly, to restrain him, and said: “Many people + to-day, Chevalier, still know you best by the old and more widely renowned + name of Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware,” said Lorenzi, with offensive gravity, “that the King of + France had ennobled Signor Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + “I was able to save the King that trouble,” answered Casanova quietly. “I + trust, Lieutenant Lorenzi, that you will be satisfied with an explanation + to which the Burgomaster of Nuremberg offered no objection when I gave it + to him in circumstances with which I need not weary the company.” There + was a moment of silent expectation. Casanova continued: “The alphabet is + our common heritage. I chose a collocation of letters which pleased my + taste, and ennobled myself without being indebted to any prince, who might + perhaps have been disinclined to allow my claim. I style myself Casanova, + Chevalier de Seingalt. I am indeed sorry, Lieutenant Lorenzi, if this name + fails to meet with your approval.” + </p> + <p> + “Seingalt! It is a splendid name,” said the Abbate, repeating it several + times, as if he were tasting it. + </p> + <p> + “There is not a man in the world,” exclaimed Olivo, “who has a better + right to name himself Chevalier than my distinguished friend Casanova!” + </p> + <p> + “As for you, Lorenzi,” added the Marchese, “when your reputation has + reached as far as that of Signor Casanova, Chevalier de Seingalt, we shall + be willing enough, should you so desire, to give you also the title of + Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova, somewhat nettled at not being allowed to fight his own battle, + was about to resume the defence in person, when out of the dusk of the + garden two elderly gentlemen, soberly habited, put in an appearance beside + the table. Olivo greeted them with effusive cordiality, being delighted to + turn the conversation and to put an end to a dispute that threatened to + destroy the harmony of the evening. The newcomers were the brothers + Ricardi. As Casanova had learned from Olivo, they were old bachelors. At + one time members of the great world, they had been unfortunate in various + undertakings. At length they had returned to their birthplace, the + neighboring village, to lead a retired life in a tiny house they had + rented. They were eccentric fellows, but quite harmless. + </p> + <p> + The Ricardis expressed their delight at renewing their acquaintance with + the Chevalier, whom, they said, they had met in Paris a good many years + ago. + </p> + <p> + Casanova could not recall the meeting. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it was in Madrid?” said the Ricardis. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe,” replied Casanova, though he was absolutely certain that he had + never seen either of them before. + </p> + <p> + The younger of the two was spokesman. The elder, who looked as if he might + be ninety at least, accompanied his brother’s words with incessant nods + and grimaces. By now every one had left the table, and before this the + children had disappeared. Lorenzi and the Marchesa were strolling in the + dusk across the greensward. Marcolina and Amalia were in the hall, setting + out the table for cards. + </p> + <p> + “What is the aim of all this?” said Casanova to himself, as he stood alone + in the garden. “Do they imagine me to be rich? Are they on the lookout for + plunder?” + </p> + <p> + These preparations, the ingratiating manners of the Marchese, the sedulous + attentions of the Abbate, the appearance of the brothers Ricardi on the + scene, were arousing his suspicions. Was it not possible that Lorenzi + might be a party to the intrigue? Or Marcolina? Or even Amalia? For a + moment it flashed through his mind that his enemies might be at work upon + some scheme of the eleventh hour to make his return to Venice difficult or + impossible. But a moment’s reflection convinced him the notion was absurd—were + it only because he no longer had any enemies. He was merely an old fellow + in reduced circumstances. Who was likely to take any trouble to hinder his + return to Venice? Glancing through the open window, he saw the company + assembling round the table, where the cards lay ready, and the filled + wine-glasses were standing. It seemed to him clear beyond all possibility + of doubt that there was nothing afoot except an ordinary, innocent game of + cards, in which the coming of a new player is always an agreeable change. + </p> + <p> + Marcolina passed him, and wished him good luck. + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t you going to take a hand?” he said. “At least you will look on?” + </p> + <p> + “I have something else to do. Good night, Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + From the interior, voices called out into the night: “Lorenzi.”—“Chevalier.”—“We + are waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova, standing in the darkness, could see that the Marchesa was + leading Lorenzi away from the open greensward into the greater darkness + under the trees. There she would fain have drawn him into her arms, but + Lorenzi roughly tore himself away and strode towards the house. Meeting + Casanova in the entry, he gave him precedence with mock politeness. + Casanova accepted the precedence without a word of thanks. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese was the first banker. Olivo, the brothers Ricardi, and the + Abbate staked such trifling amounts that to Casanova—even to-day + when his whole worldly wealth consisted of no more than a few ducats—the + game seemed ludicrous. All the more was this the case since the Marchese + raked in his winnings and paid out his losses with a ceremonious air, as + if he were handling enormous sums. Suddenly Lorenzi, who had hitherto + taken no part in the game, staked a ducat, won, let the doubled stake + stand; won again and again, and continued to have the same luck with but + occasional interruptions. The other men, however, went on staking petty + coins, and the two Ricardis in particular seemed quite annoyed if the + Marchese failed to give them as much attention as he gave to Lieutenant + Lorenzi. The two brothers played together upon the same hazard. Beads of + perspiration formed upon the brow of the elder, who handled the cards. The + younger, standing behind his brother, talked unceasingly, with the air of + giving infallible counsel. When the silent brother won, the loquacious + brother’s eyes gleamed; but at a loss, he raised despairing eyes + heavenward. The Abbate, impassive for the most part, occasionally + enunciated some scrap of proverbial wisdom. For instance: “Luck and women + cannot be constrained.” Or, “The earth is round, and heaven is far away.” + At times he looked at Casanova with an air of sly encouragement, his eyes + moving on from Casanova to rest upon Amalia where she sat beside her + husband. It seemed as if his chief concern must be to bring the erstwhile + lovers together once again. + </p> + <p> + As for Casanova, all he could think of was that Marcolina was in her room, + undressing in leisurely fashion, and that if the window were open her + white skin must be gleaming into the night. Seized with desire so intense + as almost to put him beside himself, he moved to rise from his place by + the Marchese and to leave the room. The Marchese, however, interpreting + this movement as a resolve to take a hand in the game, said: + </p> + <p> + “At last! We were sure you would not be content to play the part of + spectator, Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchese dealt him a card. Casanova staked all he had on his person, + about ten ducats, which was nearly the whole of his entire wealth. Without + counting the amount, he emptied his purse on the table, hoping to lose it + at a single cast. That would be a sign of luck. He had not troubled to + think precisely what sort of luck it would signify, whether his speedy + return to Venice, or the desired sight of Marcolina’s nudity. Ere he had + made up his mind upon this point, the Marchese had lost the venture. Like + Lorenzi, Casanova let the double stake lie; and just as in Lorenzi’s case, + fortune stood by him. The Marchese no longer troubled himself to deal to + the others. The silent Ricardi rose somewhat mortified; the other Ricardi + wrung his hands. Then the two withdrew, dumbfounded, to a corner of the + room. The Abbate and Olivo took matters more phlegmatically. The former + ate sweets and repeated his proverbial tags. The latter watched the turn + of the cards with eager attention. + </p> + <p> + At length the Marchese had lost five hundred ducats to Casanova and + Lorenzi. The Marchesa moved to depart, and looked significantly at the + Lieutenant on her way out of the room. Amalia accompanied her guest. The + Marchesa waddled in a manner that was extremely distasteful to Casanova. + Amalia walked along beside her humbly and deprecatingly. + </p> + <p> + Now that the Marchese had lost all his ready cash, Casanova became banker, + and, considerably to the Marchese’s annoyance, he insisted that the others + should return to the game. The brothers Ricardi eagerly accepted the + invitation. The Abbate shook his head, saying he had had enough. Olivo + played merely because he did not wish to be discourteous to his + distinguished guest. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi’s luck held. When he had won four hundred ducats in all, he rose + from the table, saying: “To-morrow I shall be happy to give you your + revenge. But now, by your leave, I shall ride home.” + </p> + <p> + “Home!” cried the Marchese with a scornful laugh—he had won back a + few ducats by this time. “That is a strange way to phrase it!” He turned + to the others: “The Lieutenant is staying with me. My wife has already + driven home. I hope you’ll have a pleasant time, Lorenzi!” + </p> + <p> + “You know perfectly well,” rejoined Lorenzi imperturbably, “that I shall + ride straight to Mantua, and not to your place, to which you were so good + as to invite me yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “You can ride to bell for all I care!” said the other. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi politely took his leave of the rest of the company, and, to + Casanova’s astonishment, departed without making any suitable retort to + the Marchese. + </p> + <p> + Casanova went on with the game, still winning, so that the Marchese ere + long was several hundred ducats in his debt. “What’s the use of it all?” + thought Casanova at first. But by degrees he was once more ensnared by the + lure of the gaming table. “After all,” he mused, “this is a lucky turn of + fortune. I shall soon be a thousand to the good, perhaps even two + thousand. The Marchese will not fail to pay his debt. It would be pleasant + to take a modest competence with me to Venice. But why Venice? Who regains + wealth, regains youth. Wealth is everything. At any rate, I shall now be + able to buy her. Whom? The only woman I want.... She is standing naked at + the window.... I am sure she is waiting there, expecting me to come.... + She is standing at the window to drive me mad!” + </p> + <p> + All the same, with unruffled brow he continued dealing the cards, not only + to the Marchese, but also to Olivo and to the brothers Ricardi. To the + latter from time to time he pushed over a gold piece to which they had no + claim, but which they accepted without comment. The noise of a trotting + horse came from the road. “Lorenzi,” thought Casanova. The hoofbeats + echoed for a time from the garden wall, until sound and echo gradually + died away. + </p> + <p> + At length Casanova’s luck turned. The Marchese staked more and more + boldly. By midnight Casanova was as poor as at the beginning; nay, poorer, + for he had lost the few ducats with which he had made his first venture. + Pushing the cards away, he stood up with a smile, saying: “Thank you, + gentlemen, for a pleasant game.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo stretched out both hands towards Casanova. “Dear friend, let us go + on with the game..... You have a hundred and fifty ducats. Have you + forgotten them? Not only a hundred and fifty ducats, but all that I have, + everything, everything.” His speech was thick, for he had been drinking + throughout the evening. + </p> + <p> + Casanova signified his refusal with an exaggerated but courtly gesture. + “Luck and women cannot be constrained,” he said, bowing towards the + Abbate, who nodded contentedly and clapped his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Till to-morrow, then, my dear Chevalier,” said the Marchese. “We will + join forces to win the money back from Lieutenant Lorenzi.” + </p> + <p> + The brothers Ricardi insistently demanded that the game should continue. + The Marchese, who was in a jovial mood, opened a bank for them. They + staked the gold pieces which Casanova had allowed them to win. In a couple + of minutes they had lost them all to the Marchese, who declined to go on + playing unless they could produce cash. They wrung their hands. The elder + began to cry like a child. The younger, to comfort his brother, kissed him + on both cheeks. The Marchese enquired whether the carriage had returned, + and the Abbate said he had heard it drive up half an hour earlier. + Thereupon the Marchese offered the Abbate and the two Ricardis a lift, + promising to set them down at their doors. All four left the house + together. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone, Olivo took Casanova by the arm, and assured his guest + repeatedly, with tears in his voice, that everything in the house was at + Casanova’s absolute disposal. They walked past Marcolina’s window. Not + merely was the window closed, but the iron grating had been fastened; + within, the window was curtained. There had been times, thought Casanova, + when all these precautions had been unavailing, or had been without + significance. They reëntered the house. Olivo would not be dissuaded from + accompanying the guest up the creaking staircase into the turret chamber. + He embraced Casanova as he bade him good-night. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” he said, “you shall see the nunnery. But sleep as late as you + please. We are not early risers here; anyhow we shall adapt the hours to + your convenience. Good-night!” He closed the door quietly, but his heavy + tread resounded through the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR. + </h2> + <p> + The room in which Casanova was now left to his own devices was dimly + lighted by two candles. His gaze roamed successively to the four windows, + looking to the four quarters of heaven. The prospect was much the same + from them all. The landscape had a bluish sheen. He saw broad plains with + no more than trifling elevations, except to the northward where the + mountains were faintly visible. A few isolated houses, farms, and larger + buildings, could be made out. Among these latter was one which stood + higher than the rest. Here there was still a light in one of the windows, + and Casanova imagined it must be the Marchese’s mansion. + </p> + <p> + The furniture of the room was simple. The double bed stood straight out + into the room. The two candles were on a long table. There were a few + chairs, and a chest of drawers bearing a gilt-framed mirror. Everything + was in perfect order, and the valise had been unpacked. On the table, + locked, lay the shabby portfolio containing Casanova’s papers. There were + also some books which he was using in his work; writing materials had been + provided. + </p> + <p> + He did not feel sleepy. Taking his manuscript out of the portfolio, he + reread what he had last written. Since he had broken off in the middle of + a sentence, it was easy for him to continue. He took up the pen, wrote a + phrase or two, then paused. + </p> + <p> + “To what purpose?” he demanded of himself, as if in a cruel flash of inner + illumination. “Even if I knew that what I am writing, what I am going to + write, would be considered incomparably fine; even if I could really + succeed in annihilating Voltaire, and in making my renown greater than his—would + I not gladly commit these papers to the flames could I but have Marcolina + in my arms? For that boon, should I not be willing to vow never to set + foot in Venice again, even though the Venetians should wish to escort me + back to the city in triumph?” + </p> + <p> + “Venice!”..... He breathed the word once more. Its splendor captivated his + imagination, and in a moment its old power over him had been restored. The + city of his youth rose before his eyes, enshrined in all the charms of + memory. His heart ached with yearning more intense than any that he could + recall. To renounce the idea of returning home seemed to him the most + incredible of the sacrifices which his destiny might demand. How could he + go on living in this poor and faded world without the hope, without the + certainty, that he was one day to see the beloved city again? After the + years and decades of wanderings and adventures, after all the happiness + and unhappiness he had experienced, after all the honor and all the shame, + after so many triumphs and so many discomfitures—he must at length + find a resting place, must at length find a home. + </p> + <p> + Was there any other home for him than Venice? Was there any good fortune + reserved for him other than this, that he should have a home once more? It + was long since in foreign regions he had been able to command enduring + happiness. He could still at times grasp happiness, but for a moment only; + he could no longer hold it fast. His power over his fellows, over women no + less than over men, had vanished. Only where he evoked memories could his + words, his voice, his glance, still conjure; apart from this, his presence + was void of interest. His day was done! + </p> + <p> + He was willing to admit what he had hitherto been sedulous to conceal from + himself, that even his literary labors, including the polemic against + Voltaire upon which his last hopes reposed, would never secure any notable + success. Here, likewise, he was too late. Had he in youth but had leisure + and patience to devote himself seriously to the work of the pen, he was + confident he could have ranked with the leading members of the profession + of authorship, with the greatest imaginative writers and philosophers. He + was as sure of this as he was sure that, granted more perseverance and + foresight than he actually possessed, he could have risen to supreme + eminence as financier or as diplomat. + </p> + <p> + But what availed his patience and his foresight, what became of all his + plans in life, when the lure of a new love adventure summoned? Women, + always women. For them he had again and again cast everything to the + winds; sometimes for women who were refined, sometimes for women who were + vulgar; for passionate women and for frigid women; for maidens and for + harlots. All the honors and all the joys in the world had ever seemed + cheap to him in comparison with a successful night upon a new love quest. + </p> + <p> + Did he regret what he had lost through his perpetual seeking and never or + ever finding, through this earthly and superearthly flitting from craving + to pleasure and from pleasure back to craving once more? No, he had no + regrets. He had lived such a life as none other before him; and could he + not still live it after his own fashion? Everywhere there remained women + upon his path, even though they might no longer be quite so crazy about + him as of old. + </p> + <p> + Amalia? He could have her for the asking, at this very hour, in her + drunken husband’s bed. The hostess in Mantua; was she not in love with + him, fired with affection and jealousy as if he were a handsome lad? + Perotti’s mistress, pockmarked, but a woman with a fine figure? The very + name of Casanova had intoxicated her with its aroma of a thousand + conquests. Had she not implored him to grant her but a single night of + love; and had he not spurned her as one who could still choose where he + pleased? + </p> + <p> + But Marcolina—such as Marcolina were no longer at his disposal. Had + such as Marcolina ever been at his disposal? Doubtless there were women of + that kind. Perchance he had met more than one such woman before. Always, + however, some more willing than she had been available, and he had never + been the man to waste a day in vain sighing. Since not even Lorenzi had + succeeded with Marcolina, since she had rejected the hand of this comely + officer who was as handsome and as bold as he, Casanova, had been in + youth, Marcolina might well prove to be that wonder of the world in the + existence of which he had hitherto disbelieved—the virtuous woman. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture he laughed, so that the walls reëchoed. “The bungler, the + greenhorn!” he exclaimed out loud, as so often in such self-communings. + “He did not know how to make a good use of his opportunities. Or the + Marchesa was hanging round his neck all the time. Or perhaps he took her + as a next-best, when Marcolina, the philosopher, the woman of learning, + proved unattainable!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a thought struck him. “To-morrow I will read her my polemic + against Voltaire. I can think of no one else who would be a competent + critic. I shall convince her. She will admire me. She will say: + ‘Excellent, Signor Casanova. Your style is that of a most brilliant old + gentleman!’ God!.... ‘You have positively annihilated Voltaire, you + brilliant senior!’” + </p> + <p> + He paced the chamber like a beast in a cage, hissing out the words in his + anger. A terrible wrath possessed him, against Marcolina, against + Voltaire, against himself, against the whole world. It was all he could do + to restrain himself from roaring aloud in his rage. At length he threw + himself upon the bed without undressing, and lay with eyes wide open, + looking up at the joists among which spiders’ webs were visible, + glistening in the candlelight. Then, as often happened to him after + playing cards late at night, pictures of cards chased one another swiftly + through his brain, until he sank into a dreamless sleep. + </p> + <p> + His slumber was brief. When he awakened it was to a mysterious silence. + The southern and the eastern windows of the turret chamber were open. + Through them from the garden and the fields entered a complex of sweet + odors. Gradually the silence was broken by the vague noises from near and + from far which usually herald the dawn. Casanova could no longer lie + quiet; a vigorous impulse towards movement gripped him, and lured him into + the open. The song of the birds called to him; the cool breeze of early + morning played upon his brow. Softly he opened the door and moved + cautiously down the stairs. Cunning, from long experience, he was able to + avoid making the old staircase creak. The lower flight, leading to the + ground floor, was of stone. Through the hall, where half-emptied glasses + were still standing on the table, he made his way into the garden. Since + it was impossible to walk silently on the gravel, he promptly stepped on + to the greensward, which now, in the early twilight, seemed an area of + vast proportions. He slipped into the side alley, from which he could see + Marcolina’s window. It was closed, barred, and curtained, just as it had + been overnight. Barely fifty paces from the house, Casanova seated himself + upon a stone bench. He heard a cart roll by on the other side of the wall, + and then everything was quiet again. A fine grey haze was floating over + the greensward, giving it the aspect of a pond with fugitive outlines. + Once again Casanova thought of that night long ago in the convent garden + at Murano; he thought of another garden on another night; he hardly knew + what memories he was recalling; perchance it was a composite reminiscence + of a hundred nights, just as at times a hundred women whom he had loved + would fuse in memory into one figure that loomed enigmatically before his + questioning senses. After all, was not one night just like another? Was + not one woman just like another? Especially when the affair was past and + gone? The phrase, “past and gone,” continued to hammer upon his temples, + as if destined henceforth to become the pulse of his forlorn existence. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to him that something was rattling behind him along the wall. Or + was it only an echo that he heard? Yes, the noise had really come from the + house. Marcolina’s window had suddenly been opened, the iron grating had + been pushed back, the curtain drawn. A shadowy form was visible against + the dark interior. Marcolina, clad in a white nightdress, was standing at + the window, as if to breathe the fragrance of morning. In an instant, + Casanova slipped behind the bench. Peeping over the top of it, through the + foliage in the avenue, he watched Marcolina as if spellbound. She stood + unthinking, it seemed, her gaze vaguely piercing the twilight. Not until + several seconds had elapsed did she appear to collect herself, to grow + fully awake and aware, directing her eyes slowly, now to right and now to + left. Then she leaned forward, as if seeking for something on the gravel, + and next she turned her head, from which her hair was hanging loosely, and + looked up towards the windows in the upper story. Thereafter, she stood + motionless for a while, supporting herself with a hand on either side of + the window-frame as though she were fastened to an invisible cross. Now at + length, suddenly illumined as it were from within, her features grew plain + to Casanova’s vision. A smile flitted across her face. Her arms fell to + her sides; her lips moved strangely, as if whispering a prayer; once more + she looked searchingly across the garden, then nodded almost + imperceptibly, and at the instant someone who must hitherto have been + crouching at her feet swung across the sill into the open. It was Lorenzi. + He flew rather than walked across the gravel into the alley, which he + crossed barely ten yards from Casanova, who held his breath as he lay + behind the bench. Lorenzi, hastening on, made his way down a narrow strip + of grass running along the wall, and disappeared from view. Casanova heard + a door groan on its hinges—the very door doubtless through which he, + Olivo, and the Marchese had reëntered the garden on the previous day—and + then all was still. Marcolina had remained motionless. As soon as she knew + that Lorenzi was safely away, she drew a deep breath, and closed grating + and window. The curtain fell back into its place, and all was as it had + been. Except for one thing; for now, as if there were no longer any reason + for delay, day dawned over house and garden. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was still lying behind the bench, his arms outstretched before + him. After a while he crept on all fours to the middle of the alley, and + thence onward till he reached a place where he could not be seen from + Marcolina’s window or from any of the others. Rising to his feet with an + aching back, he stretched body and limbs, and felt himself restored to his + senses, as though re-transformed from a whipped hound into a human being—doomed + to feel the chastisement, not as bodily pain, but as profound humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he asked himself, “did I not go to the window while it was still + open? Why did I not leap over the sill? Could she have offered any + resistance; would she have dared to do so; hypocrite, liar, strumpet?” + </p> + <p> + He continued to rail at her as though he had a right to do so, as though + he had been her lover to whom she had plighted troth and whom she had + betrayed. He swore to question her face to face; to denounce her before + Olivo, Amalia, the Marchese, the Abbate, the servants, as nothing better + than a lustful little whore. As if for practice, he recounted to himself + in detail what he had just witnessed, delighting in the invention of + incidents which would degrade her yet further. He would say that she had + stood naked at the window; that she had permitted the unchaste caresses of + her lover while the morning wind played upon them both. + </p> + <p> + After thus allaying the first vehemence of his anger, he turned to + consider whether he might not make a better use of his present knowledge. + Was she not in his power? Could he not now exact by threats the favors + which she had not been willing to grant him for love? But this infamous + design was speedily abandoned; not so much because Casanova realized its + infamy, as because, even while the plan crossed his mind, he was aware of + its futility. Why should Marcolina, accountable to no one but herself, be + concerned at his threats? In the last resort she was astute enough, if + needs must, to have him driven from the house as a slanderer and + blackmailer. Even if, for one reason or another, she were willing to give + herself to him in order to preserve the secret of her amours with Lorenzi + (he was aware that he was speculating on something beyond the bounds of + possibility), a pleasure thus extorted would become for him a nameless + torment. Casanova knew himself to be one whose rapture in a love + relationship was a thousandfold greater when conferring pleasure than when + receiving it. Such a victory as he was contemplating would drive him to + frenzy and despair. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he found himself at the door in the garden wall. It was locked. + Then Lorenzi had a master-key! But who, it now occurred to him to ask, had + ridden the horse he had heard trotting away after Lorenzi had left the + card table? A servant in waiting for the purpose, obviously. + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily Casanova smiled his approval. They were worthy of one + another, these two, Marcolina and Lorenzi, the woman philosopher and the + officer. A splendid career lay before them. + </p> + <p> + “Who will be Marcolina’s next lover?” he thought questioningly. “The + professor in Bologna in whose house she lives? Fool, fool! That is + doubtless an old story. Who next? Olivo? The Abbate? Wherefore not? Or the + serving-lad who stood gaping at the door yesterday when we drove up? She + has given herself to all of them. I am sure of it. But Lorenzi does not + know. I have stolen a march on him there.” + </p> + <p> + Yet all the while he was inwardly convinced that Lorenzi was Marcolina’s + first lover. Nay, he even suspected that the previous night was the first + on which she had given herself to Lorenzi. Nevertheless, as he made the + circuit in the garden within the wall, he continued to indulge these + spiteful, lascivious fantasies. + </p> + <p> + At length he reached the hall door, which he had left open. He must regain + the turret chamber unseen and unheard. With all possible caution he crept + upstairs, and sank into the armchair which stood in front of the table. + The loose leaves of the manuscript seemed to have been awaiting his + return. Involuntarily his eyes fell upon the sentence in the middle of + which he had broken off. He read: “Voltaire will doubtless prove immortal. + But this immortality will have been purchased at the price of his immortal + part. Wit has consumed his heart just as doubt has consumed his soul, and + therefore.....” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the morning sun flooded the chamber with red light, so that + the page in his hand glowed. As if vanquished, he laid it on the table + beside the others. Suddenly aware that his lips were dry, he poured + himself a glass of water from the carafe on the table; the drink was + lukewarm and sweetish to the taste. Nauseated, he turned his head away + from the glass, and found himself facing his image in the mirror upon the + chest of drawers. A wan, aging countenance with dishevelled hair stared + back at him. In a self-tormenting mood he allowed the corners of his mouth + to droop as if he were playing the part of pantaloon on the stage; + disarranged his hair yet more wildly; put out his tongue at his own image + in the mirror; croaked a string of inane invectives against himself; and + finally, like a naughty child, blew the leaves of his manuscript from the + table on to the floor. + </p> + <p> + Then he began to rail against Marcolina again. He loaded her with obscene + epithets. “Do you imagine,” he hissed between his teeth, “that your + pleasure will last? You will become fat and wrinkled and old just like the + other women who were young when you were young. You will be an old woman + with flaccid breasts; your hair will be dry and grizzled; you will be + toothless, you will have a bad smell. Last of all you will die. Perhaps + you will die while you are still quite young. You will become a mass of + corruption, food for worms.” + </p> + <p> + To wreak final vengeance upon her, he endeavored to picture her as dead. + He saw her lying in an open coffin, wrapped in a white shroud. But he was + unable to attach to her image any sign of decay, and her unearthly beauty + aroused him to renewed frenzy. Through his closed eyelids he saw the + coffin transform itself into a nuptial bed. Marcolina lay laughing there + with lambent eyes. As if in mockery, with her small, white hands she + unveiled her firm little breasts. But as he stretched forth his arms + towards her, in the moment when he was about to clasp her in his + passionate embrace, the vision faded. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE. + </h2> + <p> + Someone was knocking at the door. Casanova awoke from a heavy sleep to + find Olivo standing before him. + </p> + <p> + “At your writing so early?” + </p> + <p> + Casanova promptly collected his wits. “It is my custom,” he said, “to work + the first thing in the morning. What time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight o’clock,” answered Olivo. “Breakfast is ready in the garden. We + will start on our drive to the nunnery as early as you please, Chevalier. + How the wind has blown your papers about!” + </p> + <p> + He stooped to pick up the fallen leaves. Casanova did not interfere. He + had moved to the window, and was looking down upon the breakfast table + which had been set on the greensward in the shade of the house. Amalia, + Marcolina, and the three young girls, dressed in white, were at breakfast. + They called up a good-morning. He had no eyes for anyone but Marcolina, + who smiled at him frankly and in the friendliest fashion. In her lap was a + plateful of early-ripe grapes, which she was eating deliberately. + </p> + <p> + Contempt, anger, and hatred vanished from Casanova’s heart. All he knew + was that he loved her. Made drunken by the very sight of her, he turned + away from the window to find Olivo on hands and knees still assembling the + scattered pages of manuscript from under the table and chest of drawers. + “Don’t trouble any further,” he said to his host. “Leave me to myself for + a moment while I get ready for the drive.” + </p> + <p> + “No hurry,” answered Olivo, rising, and brushing the dust from his knees. + “We shall easily be home in time for dinner. We want to get back early, + anyhow, for the Marchese would like us to begin cards soon after our meal. + I suppose he wants to leave before sunset.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter to me what time you begin cards,” said Casanova, as he + arranged his manuscript in the portfolio. “Whatever happens, I shall not + take a hand in the game.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes you will,” explained Olivo with a decision foreign to his usual + manner. Laying a roll of gold pieces on the table, he continued: “Thus do + I pay my debt, Chevalier. A belated settlement, but it comes from a + grateful heart.” Casanova made a gesture of refusal. + </p> + <p> + “I insist,” said Olivo. “If you do not take the money, you will wound us + deeply. Besides, last night Amalia had a dream which will certainly induce + you—but I will let her tell the story herself.” He turned and left + the room precipitately. + </p> + <p> + Casanova counted the money. Yes, there were one hundred and fifty gold + pieces, the very sum that fifteen years earlier he had presented to the + bridegroom, the bride, or the bride’s mother—he had forgotten which. + </p> + <p> + “The best thing I could do,” he mused, “would be to pack up the money, say + farewell to Olivo and Amalia, and leave the place at once, if possible + without seeing Marcolina again. Yet when was I ever guided by reason?—I + wonder if news has reached Mantua from Venice? But my good hostess + promised to forward without fail anything that might arrive.” + </p> + <p> + The maid meanwhile had brought a large earthenware pitcher filled with + water freshly drawn from the spring. Casanova sponged himself all over. + Greatly refreshed, he dressed in his best suit, the one he had intended to + wear the previous evening had there been time to change. Now, however, he + was delighted that he would be able to appear before Marcolina better clad + than on the previous day, to present himself in a new form as it were. + </p> + <p> + So he sauntered into the garden wearing a coat of grey satin richly + embroidered and trimmed with Spanish lace; a yellow waistcoat; and + knee-breeches of cherry-colored silk. His aspect was that of a man who was + distinguished without being proud. An amiable smile played about his lips, + and his eyes sparkled with the fire of inextinguishable youth. To his + disappointment, he found no one but Olivo, who bade him be seated, and + invited him to fall to upon the modest fare. Casanova’s breakfast + consisted of bread, butter, milk, and eggs, followed by peaches and + grapes, which seemed to him the finest he had ever eaten. Now the three + girls came running across the lawn. Casanova kissed them in turn, + bestowing on the thirteen-year-old Teresina such caresses as the Abbate + had been free with on the previous day. Her eyes gleamed in a way with + which Casanova was familiar. He was convinced this meant something more to + her than childish amusement. + </p> + <p> + Olivo was delighted to see how well the Chevalier got on with the girls. + “Must you really leave us to-morrow morning?” he enquired tentatively. + “This very evening,” rejoined Casanova jovially. “You know, my dear Olivo, + I must consider the wishes of the Venetian senators....” + </p> + <p> + “How have they earned the right to any such consideration from you?” broke + in Olivo. “Let them wait. Stay here for another two days at least; or, + better still, for a week.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova slowly shook his head. He had seized Teresina’s hands, and held + her prisoner between his knees. She drew herself gently away, with a smile + no longer that of a child. At this moment Amalia and Marcolina emerged + from the house. Olivo besought them to second his invitation. But when + neither found a word to say on the matter, Casanova’s voice and expression + assumed an unduly severe emphasis as he answered: “Quite out of the + question.” + </p> + <p> + On the way through the chestnut avenue to the road, Marcolina asked + Casanova whether he had made satisfactory progress with the polemic. Olivo + had told her that his guest had been at the writing-table since early + morning. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was half inclined to make an answer that would have been + malicious in its ambiguity, and would have startled his auditor without + betraying himself. Reflecting, however, that premature advances could do + his cause nothing but harm, he held his wit in leash, and civilly rejoined + that he had been content to make a few emendations, the fruit of his + conversation with her yesterday. + </p> + <p> + Now they all seated themselves in the lumbering carriage. Casanova sat + opposite Marcolina, Olivo opposite Amalia. The vehicle was so roomy that, + notwithstanding the inevitable joltings, the inmates were not unduly + jostled one against the other. Casanova begged Amalia to tell him her + dream. She smiled cordially, almost brightly, no longer displaying any + trace of mortification or resentment. + </p> + <p> + “In my dream, Casanova, I saw you driving past a white building in a + splendid carriage drawn by six chestnut horses. Or rather, the carriage + pulled up in front of this building, and at first I did not know who was + seated inside. Then you got out. You were wearing a magnificent white + court dress embroidered with gold, so that your appearance was almost more + resplendent than it is to-day.” Her tone conveyed a spice of gentle + mockery. “You were wearing, I am sure of it, the thin gold chain you are + wearing to-day, and yet I had never seen it until this morning!” This + chain, with the gold watch and gold snuff-box set with garnets (Casanova + was fingering it as she spoke), were the only trinkets of value still left + to him. “An old man, looking like a beggar, opened the carriage door. It + was Lorenzi. As for you, Casanova, you were young, quite young, younger + even than you seemed to me in those days.” She said “in those days” quite + unconcernedly, regardless of the fact that in the train of these words all + her memories came attendant, winging their way like a flight of birds. + “You bowed right and left, although there was not a soul within sight; + then you entered the house. The door slammed to behind you. I did not know + whether the storm had slammed it, or Lorenzi. So startling was the noise + that the horses took fright and galloped away with the carriage. Then came + a clamor from neighboring streets, as if people were trying to save + themselves from being run over; but soon all was quiet again. Next I saw + you at one of the windows. Now I knew it was a gaming-house. Once more you + bowed in all directions, though the whole time there was no one to be + seen. You looked over your shoulder, as if someone were standing behind + you in the room; but I knew that no one was there. Now, of a sudden, I saw + you at another window, in a higher story, where the same gestures were + repeated. Then higher still, and higher, and yet higher, as if the + building were piled story upon story, interminably. From each window in + succession, you bowed towards the street, and then turned to speak to + persons behind you—who were not really there at all. Lorenzi, + meanwhile, kept on running up the stairs, flight after flight, but was + never able to overtake you. He wanted you because you had forgotten to + give him a gratuity.....” + </p> + <p> + “What next?” enquired Casanova, when Amalia paused. + </p> + <p> + “There was a great deal more, but I have forgotten,” said Amalia. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was disappointed. In such cases, whether he was relating a dream + or giving an account of real incidents, it was his way to round off the + narrative, attempting to convey a meaning. He remarked discontentedly: + “How strangely everything is distorted in dreams. Fancy, that I should be + wealthy; and that Lorenzi should be a beggar, and old!” + </p> + <p> + “As far as Lorenzi is concerned,” interjected Olivo, “there is not much + wealth about him. His father is fairly well off, but no one can say that + of the son.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova had no need to ask questions. He was speedily informed that it + was through the Marchese that they had made the Lieutenant’s acquaintance. + The Marchese had brought Lorenzi to the house only a few weeks before. A + man of the Chevalier’s wide experience would hardly need prompting to + enlighten him as to the nature of the young officer’s relationship to the + Marchesa. After all, if the husband had no objection, the affair was + nobody else’s business. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Olivo,” said Casanova, “that you have allowed yourself to be + convinced of the Marchese’s complaisance too easily. Did you not notice + his manner towards the young man, the mingling of contempt and ferocity? I + should not like to wager that all will end well.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina remained impassive. She seemed to pay no attention to this talk + about Lorenzi, but sat with unruffled countenance, and to all appearance + quietly delighting in the landscape. The road led upwards by a gentle + ascent zigzagging through groves of olives and holly trees. Now they + reached a place where the horses had to go more slowly, and Casanova + alighted to stroll beside the carriage. Marcolina talked of the lovely + scenery round Bologna, and of the evening walks she was in the habit of + taking with Professor Morgagni’s daughter. She also mentioned that she was + planning a journey to France next year, in order to make the personal + acquaintance of Saugrenue, the celebrated mathematician at the university + of Paris, with whom she had corresponded. “Perhaps,” she said with a + smile, “I may look in at Ferney on the way, in order to learn from + Voltaire’s own lips how he has been affected by the polemic of the + Chevalier de Seingalt, his most formidable adversary.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova was walking with a hand on the side of the carriage, close to + Marcolina’s arm. Her loose sleeve was touching his fingers. He answered + quietly: “It matters less what M. Voltaire thinks about the matter than + what posterity thinks. A final decision upon the merits of the controversy + must be left to the next generation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think,” said Marcolina earnestly, “that final decisions can + be reached in questions of this character?” + </p> + <p> + “I am surprised that you should ask such a thing, Marcolina. Though your + philosophic views, and (if the term be appropriate) your religious views, + seem to me by no means irrefutable, at least they must be firmly + established in your soul—if you believe that there is a soul.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina, ignoring the personal animus in Casanova’s words, sat looking + skyward over the tree-crests, and tranquilly rejoined: “Ofttimes, and + especially on a day like this”—to Casanova, knowing what he knew, + the words conveyed the thrill of reverence in the newly awakened heart of + a woman—“I feel as if all that people speak of as philosophy and + religion were no more than playing with words. A sport nobler perhaps than + others, nevertheless more unmeaning than them all. Infinity and eternity + will never be within the grasp of our understanding. Our path leads from + birth to death. What else is left for us than to live a life accordant + with the law that each of us bears within—or a life of rebellion + against that law? For rebellion and submissiveness both issue from God.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo looked at his niece with timid admiration, then turned to + contemplate Casanova with some anxiety. Casanova was in search of a + rejoinder which should convince Marcolina that she was in one breath + affirming and denying God, or should prove to her that she was proclaiming + God and the Devil to be the same. He realized, however, that he had + nothing but empty words to set against her feelings, and to-day words did + not come to him readily. His expression showed him to be somewhat at a + loss, and apparently reminded Amalia of the confused menaces he had + uttered on the previous day. So she hastened to remark: “Marcolina is + deeply religious all the same, I can assure you, Chevalier.” + </p> + <p> + Marcolina smiled. + </p> + <p> + “We are all religious in our several ways,” said Casanova civilly. + </p> + <p> + Now came a turn in the road, and the nunnery was in sight. The slender + tops of cypresses showed above the encircling wall. At the sound of the + approaching carriage, the great doors had swung open. The porter, an old + man with a flowing white beard, bowed gravely and gave them admittance. + Through the cloisters, between the columns of which they caught glimpses + of an overgrown garden, they advanced towards the main building, from + whose unadorned, grey, and prison-like exterior an unpleasantly cool air + was wafted. Olivo pulled the bellrope; the answering sound was + high-pitched, and died away in a moment. A veiled nun silently appeared, + and ushered the guests into the spacious parlor. It contained merely a few + plain wooden chairs, and the back was cut off by a heavy iron grating, + beyond which nothing could be seen but a vague darkness. + </p> + <p> + With bitterness in his heart, Casanova recalled the adventure which still + seemed to him the most wonderful of all his experiences. It had begun in + just such surroundings as the present. Before his eyes loomed the forms of + the two inmates of the Murano convent who had been friends in their love + for him. In conjunction they had bestowed upon him hours of incomparable + sweetness. When Olivo, in a whisper, began to speak of the strict + discipline imposed upon this sisterhood—once they were professed, + the nuns must never appear unveiled before a man, and they were vowed to + perpetual silence—a smile flitted across Casanova’s face. + </p> + <p> + The Abbess suddenly emerged from the gloom, and was standing in their + midst. In silence she saluted her guests, and with an exaggerated + reverence of her veiled head acknowledged Casanova’s expressions of + gratitude for the admission of himself, a stranger. But when Marcolina + wished to kiss her hand, the Abbess gathered the girl in her arms. Then, + with a wave of the hand inviting them to follow, she led the way through a + small room into a cloister surrounding a quadrangular flower-garden. In + contrast to the outer garden, which had run wild, this inner garden was + tended with especial care. The flower-beds, brilliant in the sunshine, + showed a wonderful play of variegated colors. The warm odors were almost + intoxicating. One, intermingled with the rest, aroused no responsive echo + in Casanova’s memory. Puzzled, he was about to say a word on the subject + to Marcolina, when he perceived that the enigmatic, stimulating fragrance + emanated from herself. She had removed her shawl from her shoulders and + was carrying it over her arm. From the opening of her gown came a perfume + at once kindred to that of the thousand flowers of the garden, and yet + unique. + </p> + <p> + The Abbess, still without a word, conducted the visitors between the + flower-beds upon narrow, winding paths which traversed the garden like a + lovely labyrinth. The graceful ease of her gait showed that she was + enjoying the chance of showing others the motley splendors of her garden. + As if she had determined to make her guests giddy, she moved on faster and + ever faster like the leader of a lively folk-dance. Then, quite suddenly, + so that Casanova seemed to awaken from a confusing dream, they all found + themselves in the parlor once more. On the other side of the grating, dim + figures were moving. It was impossible to distinguish whether, behind the + thick bars, three or five or twenty veiled women were flitting to and fro + like startled ghosts. Indeed, none but Casanova, with eyes preternaturally + acute to pierce the darkness, could discern that they were human outlines + at all. + </p> + <p> + The Abbess attended her guests to the door, mutely gave them a sign of + farewell, and vanished before they had found time to express their thanks + for her courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, just as they were about to leave the parlor, a woman’s voice + near the grating breathed the word “Casanova.” Nothing but his name, in a + tone that seemed to him quite unfamiliar. From whom came this breach of a + sacred vow? Was it a woman he had once loved, or a woman he had never seen + before? Did the syllables convey the ecstasy of an unexpected reencounter, + or the pain of something irrecoverably lost; or did it convey the + lamentation that an ardent wish of earlier days had been so late and so + fruitlessly fulfilled? Casanova could not tell. All that he knew was that + his name, which had so often voiced the whispers of tender affection, the + stammerings of passion, the acclamations of happiness, had to-day for the + first time pierced his heart with the full resonance of love. But, for + this very reason, to probe the matter curiously would have seemed to him + ignoble and foolish. The door closed behind the party, shutting in a + secret which he was never to unriddle. Were it not that the expression on + each face had shown timidly and fugitively that the call to Casanova had + reached the ears of all, each might have fancied himself or herself a prey + to illusion. No one uttered a word as they walked through the cloisters to + the great doors. Casanova brought up the rear, with bowed head, as if on + the occasion of some profoundly affecting farewell. + </p> + <p> + The porter was waiting. He received his alms. The visitors stepped into + the carriage, and started on the homeward road. Olivo seemed perplexed; + Amalia was distrait. Marcolina, however, was quite unmoved. Too pointedly, + in Casanova’s estimation, she attempted to engage Amalia in a discussion + of household affairs, a topic upon which Olivo was compelled to come to + his wife’s assistance. Casanova soon joined in the discussion, which + turned upon matters relating to kitchen and cellar. An expert on these + topics, he saw no reason why he should hide his light under a bushel, and + he seized the opportunity of giving a fresh proof of versatility. + Thereupon, Amalia roused herself from her brown study. After their recent + experience—at once incredible and haunting—to all, and + especially to Casanova, there was a certain comfort derivable from an + extremely commonplace atmosphere of mundane life. When the carriage + reached home, where an inviting odor of roast meat and cooking vegetables + assailed their nostrils, Casanova was in the midst of an appetizing + description of a Polish pasty, a description to which even Marcolina + attended with a flattering air of domesticity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> + <p> + In a strangely tranquillized, almost happy mood, which was a surprise to + himself, Casanova sat at table with the others, and paid court to + Marcolina in the sportive manner which might seem appropriate from a + distinguished elderly gentleman towards a well-bred young woman of the + burgher class. She accepted his attentions gracefully, in the spirit in + which they appeared to be offered. He found it difficult to believe that + his demure neighbor was the same Marcolina from whose bedroom window he + had seen a young officer emerge, a man who had obviously held her in his + arms but a few moments earlier. It was equally difficult for him to + realize how this tender girl, who was fond of romping on the grass with + other children, could conduct a learned correspondence with Saugrenue, the + renowned mathematician of Paris. Yet simultaneously he derided himself for + the inertness of his imagination. Had he not learned a thousand times that + in the souls of all persons who are truly alive, discrepant elements, nay, + apparently hostile elements, may coexist in perfect harmony? He himself, + who shortly before had been so profoundly moved, had been desperate, had + been ready for evil deeds, was now so gentle, so kindly, in so merry a + mood, that Olivo’s little daughters were shaking their sides with + laughter. Nevertheless, as was usual with him after strong excitement, his + appetite was positively ferocious, and this served to warn him that order + was not yet fully restored in his soul. + </p> + <p> + With the last course, the maid brought in a despatch which had just + arrived for the Chevalier by special messenger from Mantua. Olivo noticed + that Casanova grew pale. He told the servant to provide the messenger with + refreshment, then turned to his guest. + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t stand upon ceremony, Chevalier. Read your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will excuse me,” answered Casanova. He went to the window and + opened the missive with simulated indifference. It was from Signor + Bragadino, an old friend of the family and a confirmed bachelor, over + eighty years of age, and for the last decade a member of the Supreme + Council. He had shown more interest than other patrons in pressing + Casanova’s suit. The letter was beautifully written, although the + characters were a little shaky. It was as follows: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Casanova: + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted, at length, to be able to send you news which will, I + hope, be substantially accordant with your wishes. The Supreme Council, at + its last sitting, which took place yesterday evening, did not merely + express its willingness to permit your return to Venice. It went further. + The Council desires that your advent should be as speedy as possible, + since there is an intention to turn to immediate account the active + gratitude which you have foreshadowed in so many of your letters. + </p> + <p> + “Since Venice has been deprived for so long of the advantage of your + presence, you may perhaps be unaware, my dear Casanova, that quite + recently the internal affairs of our beloved native city have taken a + rather unfavorable trend both politically and morally. Secret societies + have come into existence, directed against the constitution of the + Venetian state, and even, it would seem, aiming at its forcible overthrow. + As might be expected, the members of these societies, persons whom it + would not be too harsh to denominate conspirators, are chiefly drawn from + certain free-thinking, irreligious, and lawless circles. Not to speak of + what goes on in private, we learn that in the public squares and in coffee + houses, the most outrageous, the most treasonable conversations, take + place. But only in exceptional instances has it been possible to catch the + guilty in the act, or to secure definite proof against the offenders. A + few admissions have been enforced by the rack, but these confessions have + proved so untrustworthy that several members of the Council are of opinion + that for the future it would be better to abstain from methods of + investigation which are not only cruel but are apt to lead us astray. Of + course there is no lack of individuals well-affected towards public order + and devoted to the welfare of the state, individuals who would be + delighted to place their services at the disposal of the government; but + most of them are so well known as stalwart supporters of the existing + constitution that when they are present people are chary in their + utterances and are most unlikely to give vent to treasonable expressions. + </p> + <p> + “At yesterday’s sitting, one of the senators, whom I will not name, + expressed the opinion that a man who had the reputation of being without + moral principle and who was furthermore regarded as a freethinker—in + short, Casanova, such a man as yourself—if recalled to Venice would + not fail to secure prompt and sympathetic welcome in the very circles + which the government regards with such well-grounded suspicion. If he + played his cards well, such a man would soon inspire the most absolute + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “In my opinion, irresistibly, and as if by the force of a law of nature, + there would gravitate around your person the very elements which the + Supreme Council, in its indefatigable zeal for the state, is most eager to + render harmless and to punish in an exemplary manner. For your part, my + dear Casanova, you would give us an acceptable proof of your patriotic + zeal, and would furnish in addition an infallible sign of your complete + conversion from all those tendencies for which, during your imprisonment + in The Leads, you had to atone by punishment which, though severe, was + not, as you now see for yourself (if we are to believe your epistolary + assurances), altogether unmerited. I mean, should you be prepared, + immediately on your return home, to act in the way previously suggested, + to seek acquaintance with the elements sufficiently specified above, to + introduce yourself to them in the friendliest fashion as one who cherishes + the same tendencies, and to furnish the Senate with accurate and full + reports of everything which might seem to you suspicious or worthy of + note. + </p> + <p> + “For these services the authorities would offer you, to begin with, a + salary of two hundred and fifty lire per month, apart from special + payments in cases of exceptional importance. I need hardly say that you + would receive in addition, without too close a scrutiny of the items, an + allowance for such expenses as you might incur in the discharge of your + duties (I refer, for instance, to the treating of this individual or of + that, little gifts made to women, and so on). + </p> + <p> + “I do not attempt to conceal from myself that you may have to fight down + certain scruples before you will feel inclined to fulfil our wishes. + Permit me, however, as your old and sincere friend (who was himself young + once), to remind you that it can never be regarded as dishonorable for a + man to perform any services that may be essential for the safety of his + beloved fatherland—even if, to a shallow-minded and unpatriotic + citizen, such services might seem to be of an unworthy character. Let me + add, Casanova, that your knowledge of human nature will certainly enable + you to draw a distinction between levity and criminality, to differentiate + the jester from the heretic. Thus it will be within your power, in + appropriate cases, to temper justice with mercy, and to deliver up to + punishment those only who, in your honest opinion, may deserve it. + </p> + <p> + “Above all I would ask you to consider that, should you reject the + gracious proposal of the Supreme Council, the fulfilment of your dearest + wish—your return to Venice—is likely to be postponed for a + long and I fear for an indefinite period; and that I myself, if I may + allude to the matter, as an old man of eighty-one, should be compelled in + all human probability to renounce the pleasing prospect of ever seeing you + again in this life. + </p> + <p> + “Since, for obvious reasons, your appointment will be of a confidential + and not of a public nature, I beg you to address to me personally your + reply, for which I make myself responsible, and which I wish to present to + the Council at its next sitting a week hence. Act with all convenient + speed, for, as I have previously explained, we are daily receiving offers + from thoroughly trustworthy persons who, from patriotic motives, + voluntarily place themselves at the disposal of the Supreme Council. + Nevertheless, there is hardly one among them who can compare with you, my + dear Casanova, in respect of experience or intelligence. If, in addition + to all the arguments I have adduced, you take my personal feelings into + account, I find it difficult to doubt that you will gladly respond to the + call which now reaches you from so exalted and so friendly a source. + </p> + <p> + “Till then, receive the assurances of my undying friendship. + </p> + <p> + “BRAGADINO.” + </p> + <p> + “Postscript. Immediately upon receipt of your acceptance, it will be a + pleasure to me to send you a remittance of two hundred lire through the + banking firm of Valori in Mantua. The sum is to defray the cost of your + journey. + </p> + <p> + “B.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Long after Casanova had finished reading the letter, he stood holding the + paper so as to conceal the deathly pallor of his countenance. From the + dining-table came a continuous noise, the rattle of plates and the + clinking of glasses; but conversation had entirely ceased. At length + Amalia ventured to say: “The food is getting cold, Chevalier; won’t you go + on with your meal?” + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me,” replied Casanova, letting his face be seen once + more, for by now, owing to his extraordinary self-control, he had regained + outward composure. “I have just received the best possible news from + Venice, and I must reply instantly. With your leave, I will go to my + room.” + </p> + <p> + “Suit yourself, Chevalier,” said Olivo. “But do not forget that our card + party begins in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + In the turret chamber Casanova sank into a chair. A chill sweat broke out + over his body; he shivered as if in the cold stage of a fever; he was + seized with such nausea that he felt as if he were about to choke. For a + time he was unable to think clearly, and he could do no more than devote + his energies to the task of self-restraint without quite knowing why he + did so. But there was no one in the house upon whom he could vent his + fury; and he could not fail to realize the utter absurdity of a + half-formed idea that Marcolina must be in some way contributory to the + intolerable shame which had been put upon him. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he was in some degree once more master of himself, his first + thought was to take revenge upon the scoundrels who had believed that he + could be hired as a police spy. He would return to Venice in disguise, and + would exert all his cunning to compass the death of these wretches—or + at least of whomever it was that had conceived the despicable design. + </p> + <p> + Was Bragadino the prime culprit? Why not? An old man so lost to all sense + of shame that he had dared to write such a letter to Casanova; a dotard + who could actually believe that Casanova, whom he had personally known, + would set his hand to this ignominious task. He no longer knew Casanova! + Nor did anyone know him, in Venice or elsewhere. But people should learn + to know him once more. + </p> + <p> + It was true that he was no longer young enough or handsome enough to + seduce an honest girl. Nor did he now possess the skill and the agility + requisite for an escape from prison, or for gymnastic feats upon the + roof-tops. But in spite of his age, he was cleverer than anyone else! Once + back in Venice, he could do anything he pleased. The first step, the + essential step, was to get back. Perhaps it would not be necessary to kill + anyone. There were other kinds of revenge, grimmer, more devilish, than a + commonplace murder. If he were to feign acceptance of the Council’s + proposal, it would be the easiest thing in the world to compass the + destruction of those whom he wished to destroy, instead of bringing about + the ruin of those whom the authorities had in mind, and who were doubtless + the finest fellows among all the inhabitants of Venice! Monstrous! Because + they were the enemies of this infamous government, because they were + reputed heretics, were they to languish in The Leads where he had + languished twenty-five years ago, or were they to perish under the + executioner’s axe? He detested the government a hundred times more than + they did, and with better reason. He had been a lifelong heretic; was a + heretic to-day, upon sincerer conviction than them all. What a queer + comedy he had been playing of late years—simply from tedium and + disgust. He to believe in God? What sort of a God was it who was gracious + only to the young, and left the old in the lurch? A God who, when the + fancy took him, became a devil; who transformed wealth into poverty, + fortune into misfortune, happiness into despair. “You play with us—and + we are to worship you? To doubt your existence is the only resource left + open to us if we are not to blaspheme you! You do not exist; for if you + did exist, I should curse you!” + </p> + <p> + Shaking his clenched fists heavenward, he rose to his feet. Involuntarily, + a detested name rose to his lips. Voltaire! Yes, now he was in the right + mood to finish his polemic against the sage of Ferney. To finish it? No, + now was the time to begin it. A new one! A different one! One in which the + ridiculous old fool should be shown up as he deserved: for his + pusillanimity, his half-heartedness, his subservience. He an unbeliever? A + man of whom the latest news was that he was on excellent terms with the + priests, that he visited church, and on feast days actually went to + confession! He a heretic? He was a chatterbox, a boastful coward, nothing + more! But the day of reckoning was at hand, and soon there would be + nothing left of the great philosopher but a quill-driving buffoon. + </p> + <p> + What airs he had given himself, this worthy M. Voltaire! “My dear M. + Casanova, I am really vexed with you. What concern have I with the works + of Merlin? It is your fault that I have wasted four hours over such + nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + All a matter of taste, excellent M. Voltaire! People will continue to read + Merlin long after <i>La Pucelle</i> has been forgotten. Possibly they will + continue to prize my sonnets, the sonnets you returned to me with a + shameless smile, and without saying a word about them. But these are + trifles. Do not let us spoil a great opportunity because of our + sensitiveness as authors. We are concerned with philosophy—with God! + We shall cross swords, M. Voltaire, unless you die before I have a chance + to deal with you. + </p> + <p> + He was already in the mind to begin his new polemic, when it occurred to + him that the messenger was waiting for an answer. He hastily indited a + letter to the old duffer Bragadino, a letter full of hypocritical humility + and simulated delight. With joy and gratitude he accepted the pardon of + the Council. He would expect the remittance by return of post, so that + with all possible speed he might present himself before his patrons, and + above all before the honored old family friend, Bragadino. + </p> + <p> + When he was in the act of sealing the letter, someone knocked gently at + the door. At the word, Olivo’s eldest daughter, the thirteen-year-old + Teresina, entered, to tell him that the whole company was assembled below, + and that the Chevalier was impatiently awaited at the card table. Her eyes + gleamed strangely; her cheeks were flushed; her thick, black hair lay + loose upon her temples; her little mouth was half open. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been drinking wine, Teresina?” asked Casanova striding towards + her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. How did you know?” She blushed deeper, and in her embarrassment she + moistened her lips with her tongue. + </p> + <p> + Casanova seized her by the shoulders, and, breathing in her face, drew her + to the bed. She looked at him with great helpless eyes in which the light + was now extinguished. But when she opened her mouth as if to scream, + Casanova’s aspect was so menacing that she was almost paralyzed with fear, + and let him do whatever he pleased. + </p> + <p> + He kissed her with a tender fierceness, whispering: “You must not tell the + Abbate anything about this, Teresina, not even in confession. Some day, + when you have a lover or a husband, there is no reason why he should know + anything about it. You should always keep your own counsel. Never tell the + truth to your father, your mother, or your sisters, that it may be well + with you on earth. Mark my words.” As he spoke thus blasphemously, + Teresina seemed to regard his utterance as a pious admonition, for she + seized his hand and kissed it reverently as if it had been a priest’s. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. “Come,” he said, “come, little wife, we will walk arm in arm + into the room downstairs!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed a little coy at first, but smiled with genuine gratification. + </p> + <p> + It was high time for them to go down, for they met Olivo coming up. He was + flushed and wore a frown, so that Casanova promptly inferred that the + Marchese or the Abbate had roused his suspicions by some coarse jest + concerning Teresina’s prolonged absence. His brow cleared when he beheld + Casanova on the threshold, standing arm in arm with the girl as if in + sport. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry to have kept you all waiting, Olivo,” said Casanova. “I had to + finish my letter.” He held the missive out to Olivo in proof of his words. + </p> + <p> + “Take it,” said Olivo to Teresina, smoothing her rumpled hair. “Hand it to + the messenger.” + </p> + <p> + “Here are two gold pieces for the man,” added Casanova. “He must bestir + himself, so that the letter may leave Mantua for Venice to-day. And ask + him to tell my hostess at the inn that I shall return this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “This evening?” exclaimed Olivo. “Impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, we’ll see,” observed Casanova affably. “Here, Teresina, take + this, a gold piece for yourself.” When Olivo demurred, Casanova added: + “Put it in your moneybox, Teresina. That letter is worth any amount of + gold pieces!” + </p> + <p> + Teresina tripped away, and Casanova nodded to himself contentedly. In days + gone by he had possessed the girl’s mother and grandmother also, and he + thought it a particularly good joke that he was paying the little wench + for her favors under the very eyes of her father. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN. + </h2> + <p> + When Casanova entered the hall with Olivo, cards had already begun. He + acknowledged with serene dignity the effusive greeting of the company, and + took his place opposite the Marchese, who was banker. The windows into the + garden were open. Casanova heard voices outside; Marcolina and Amalia + strolled by, glanced into the room for a moment, and then disappeared. + </p> + <p> + While the Marchese was dealing, Lorenzi turned to Casanova with + ceremonious politeness, saying: “My compliments, Chevalier. You were + better informed than I. My regiment is under orders to march tomorrow + afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchese looked surprised. “Why did you not tell us sooner, Lorenzi?” + </p> + <p> + “The matter did not seem of such supreme importance.” + </p> + <p> + “It is of no great importance to me,” said the Marchese. “But don’t you + think it is of considerable importance to my wife?” He laughed raucously. + “As a matter of fact, I have some interest in the matter myself. You won + four hundred ducats from me yesterday, and there is not much time left in + which to win them back.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lieutenant won money from us too,” said the younger Ricardi. The + elder, silent as usual, looked over his shoulder at his brother, who stood + behind the elder’s chair as on the previous day. + </p> + <p> + “Luck and women.....” began the Abbate. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese finished the sentence for him: “.....cannot be constrained.” + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi carelessly scattered his gold on the table. “There you are. I will + stake it all upon a single card, if you like, Marchese, so that you need + not wait for your money.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova suddenly became aware of a feeling of compassion for Lorenzi, a + feeling he was puzzled to account for. But he believed himself to be + endowed with second-sight, and he had a premonition that the Lieutenant + would fall in his first encounter. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese did not accept the suggestion of high stakes, nor did Lorenzi + insist. They resumed the game, therefore, much as on the previous night, + everyone taking a hand at first, and only moderate sums being ventured. A + quarter of an hour later, however, the stakes began to rise, and ere long + Lorenzi had lost his four hundred ducats to the Marchese. + </p> + <p> + Casanova had no constancy either in luck or ill-luck. He won, lost, and + won again, in an almost ludicrously regular alternation. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi drew a breath of relief when his last gold piece had gone the way + of the others. Rising from the table, he said: “I thank you, gentlemen. + This,” he hesitated for a moment, “this will prove to have been my last + game for a long time in your hospitable house. If you will allow me, + Signor Olivo, I will take leave of the ladies before riding into town. I + must reach Mantua ere nightfall in order to make preparations for + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shameless liar,” thought Casanova. “You will return here to-night, to + Marcolina’s arms!” Rage flamed up in him anew. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed the Marchese maliciously. “The evening will not come for + hours. Is the game to stop so early? If you like, Lorenzi, my coachman + shall drive home with a message to the Marchesa to let her know that you + will be late.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ride to Mantua,” rejoined Lorenzi impatiently. The + Marchese, ignoring this statement, went on: “There is still plenty of + time. Put up some of your own money, if it be but a single gold piece.” He + dealt Lorenzi a card. + </p> + <p> + “I have not a single gold piece left,” said Lorenzi wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one,” asserted Lorenzi, as if tired of the whole matter. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said the Marchese, with a sudden assumption of amiability + which was far from congenial. “I will trust you as far as ten ducats goes, + or even for a larger sum if needs must.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, a ducat, then,” said Lorenzi, taking up the card dealt to him. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese won. Lorenzi went on with the game, as if this were now a + matter of course, and was soon in the Marchese’s debt to the amount of one + hundred ducats. + </p> + <p> + At this stage Casanova became banker, and had even better luck than the + Marchese. There remained only three players. To-day the brothers Ricardi + stood aside without complaint. Olivo and the Abbate were merely interested + onlookers. + </p> + <p> + No one uttered a syllable. Only the cards spoke, and they spoke in + unmistakable terms. By the hazard of fortune all the cash found its way to + Casanova. In an hour he had won two thousand ducats; he had won them from + Lorenzi, though they came out of the pockets of the Marchese, who at + length sat there without a soldo. + </p> + <p> + Casanova offered him whatever gold pieces he might need. The Marchese + shook his head. “Thanks,” he said, “I have had enough. The game is over as + far as I am concerned.” + </p> + <p> + From the garden came the laughing voices of the girls. Casanova heard + Teresina’s voice in particular, but he was sitting with his back to the + window and did not turn round. He tried once more to persuade the Marchese + to resume the game—for the sake of Lorenzi, though he hardly knew + what moved him. The Marchese refused with a yet more decisive headshake. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi rose, saying: “I shall have the honor, Signor Marchese, of handing + the amount I owe you to you personally, before noon to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchese laughed drily. “I am curious to know how you will manage + that, Lieutenant Lorenzi. There is not a soul, in Mantua or elsewhere, who + would lend you as much as ten ducats, not to speak of two thousand, + especially to-day. For to-morrow you will be on the march, and who can + tell whether you will ever return?” + </p> + <p> + “I give you my word of honor, Signor Marchese, that you shall have the + money at eight o’clock to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Your word of honor,” said the Marchese, “is not worth a single ducat to + me, let alone two thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The others held their breath. Lorenzi, apparently unmoved, merely + answered: “You will give me satisfaction, Signor Marchese.” + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure, Signor Lieutenant,” rejoined the Marchese, “as soon as you + have paid your debt.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo, who was profoundly distressed, here intervened, stammering + slightly: “I stand surety for the amount, Signor Marchese. Unfortunately I + have not sufficient ready money on the spot; but there is the house, the + estate.....” He closed the sentence with an awkward wave of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to accept your surety, for your own sake,” said the Marchese. + “You would lose your money.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova saw that all eyes were turned towards the gold that lay on the + table before him. “What if I were to stand surety for Lorenzi,” he + thought. “What if I were to pay the debt for him? The Marchese could not + refuse my offer. I almost think I ought to do it. It was the Marchese’s + money.” + </p> + <p> + But he said not a word. He felt that a plan was taking shape hi his mind, + and that above all he needed time in which he might become clear as to its + details. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have the money this evening, before nightfall,” said Lorenzi. + “I shall be in Mantua in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Your horse may break its neck,” replied the Marchese. “You too; + intentionally, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” said the Abbate indignantly, “the Lieutenant cannot get the + money here by magic.” + </p> + <p> + The two Ricardis laughed; but instantly restrained their mirth. + </p> + <p> + Olivo once more addressed the Marchese. “It is plain that you must grant + Lieutenant Lorenzi leave to depart.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if he gives me a pledge,” exclaimed the Marchese with flashing eyes, + as if this idea gave him peculiar delight. + </p> + <p> + “That seems rather a good plan,” said Casanova, a little absent-mindedly, + for his scheme was ripening. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi drew a ring from his finger and flicked it across the table. + </p> + <p> + The Marchese took it up, saying: “That is good for a thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “What about this one?” Lorenzi threw down another ring in front of the + Marchese. + </p> + <p> + The latter nodded, saying: “That is good for the same amount.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied now, Signor Marchese?” enquired Lorenzi, moving as if + to go. + </p> + <p> + “I am satisfied,” answered the Marchese, with an evil chuckle; “all the + more, seeing that the rings are stolen.” + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi turned sharply, clenching his fist as if about to strike the + Marchese. Olivo and the Abbate seized Lorenzi’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “I know both the stones, though they have been reset,” said the Marchese + without moving from his place. “Look, gentlemen, the emerald is slightly + flawed, or it would be worth ten times the amount. The ruby is flawless, + but it is not a large one. Both the stones come from a set of jewels which + I once gave my wife. And, since it is quite impossible for me to suppose + that the Marchesa had them reset in rings for Lieutenant Lorenzi, it is + obvious that they have been stolen—that the whole set has been + stolen. Well, well, the pledge suffices, Signor Lieutenant, for the + nonce.” + </p> + <p> + “Lorenzi!” cried Olivo, “we all give you our word that no one shall ever + hear a syllable from us about what has just happened.” + </p> + <p> + “And whatever Signor Lorenzi may have done,” said Casanova, “you, Signor + Marchese, are the greater rascal of the two.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” replied the Marchese. “When anyone is as old as we are, + Chevalier de Seingalt, assuredly he should not need lessons in rascality. + Good-evening, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + He rose to his feet. No one responded to his farewell, and he went out. + </p> + <p> + For a space the silence was so intense, that once again the girls’ + laughter was heard from the garden, now seeming unduly loud. + </p> + <p> + Who would have ventured to utter the word that was searing Lorenzi’s soul, + as he stood at the table with his arm still raised? Casanova, the only one + of the company who had remained seated, derived an involuntary artistic + pleasure from the contemplation of this fine, threatening gesture, + meaningless now, but seemingly petrified, as if the young man had been + transformed into a statue. + </p> + <p> + At length Olivo turned to him with a soothing air; the Ricardis, too, drew + near; and the Abbate appeared to be working himself up for a speech. But a + sort of shiver passed over Lorenzi’s frame. Automatically but insistently + he silently indicated his rejection of any offers at intervention. Then, + with a polite inclination of the head, he quietly left the room. + </p> + <p> + Casanova, who had meanwhile wrapped up the money in a silken kerchief, + instantly followed. Without looking at the others’ faces, he could feel + that they were convinced it was his instant intention to do what they had + all the while been expecting, namely, to place his winnings at Lorenzi’s + disposal. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT. + </h2> + <p> + Casanova overtook Lorenzi in the chestnut avenue. Speaking lightly, he + said: “May I have the pleasure of accompanying you on your walk, + Lieutenant Lorenzi?” + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi, without looking at him, answered in an arrogant tone which seemed + hardly in keeping with his situation: “As you please, Chevalier; but I am + afraid you will not find me an amusing companion.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, Lieutenant, you will on the other hand find me an entertaining + companion. If you have no objection, let us take the path through the + vineyard, where our conversation will be undisturbed.” + </p> + <p> + They turned aside from the high-road into the narrow footway running + beside the garden wall, along which Casanova had walked with Olivo on the + previous day. + </p> + <p> + “You are right in supposing,” began Casanova, “that I have it in mind to + offer you the sum of money which you owe to the Marchese. Not as a loan. + That, if you will excuse my saying so, seems to me rather too risky a + venture. I could let you have it as a slight return for a service which I + think you may be able to do me.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Lorenzi coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Before I say any more,” answered Casanova, in a similar tone, “I must + make a condition upon your acceptance of which the continuance of this + conversation depends.” + </p> + <p> + “Name your condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your word of honor that you will listen to me without + interruption, even though what I have to say may arouse your displeasure + or your wrath. When you have heard me to the end, it will rest entirely + with yourself whether you accept a proposal which, I am well aware, is of + an extremely unusual nature. But I want you to answer it with a simple Yes + or No. Whatever the issue, no one is to hear a word concerning what passes + at this interview between two men of honor, who are perhaps no better than + they should be.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to listen to your proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “You accept my condition?” + </p> + <p> + “I will not interrupt you.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will answer nothing beyond Yes or No?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing beyond Yes or No.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Casanova. They walked slowly up the hill, between the + vine stocks, in the sultry heat of the late afternoon. Casanova began to + speak: “We shall perhaps understand one another best if we discuss the + matter logically. It is obvious that you have absolutely no chance of + obtaining the money you owe the Marchese within the prescribed time. There + can be no doubt that he has made up his mind to ruin you should you fail + to pay. Since he knows more of you than he actually disclosed to us + to-day”—Casanova was venturing beyond the limits of his own + knowledge, but he loved to take these little risks when following up a + path decided on in advance—“you are absolutely in the power of the + old ruffian, and your fate as an officer and a gentleman would be sealed. + There you have one side of the question. On the other hand, you will be + saved as soon as you have paid your debt, and as soon as you get back + those rings—however you may have come by them. This will mean the + recovery of an existence which is otherwise practically closed. Since you + are young, handsome, and bold, it will mean the recovery of an existence + which offers splendor, happiness, and renown. This appears to me a most + attractive prospect; especially seeing that the only alternative is an + inglorious, nay, a shameful ruin; for such a prospect, I should be willing + to sacrifice a prejudice which I had never really possessed. I am well + aware, Lorenzi,” he added quickly, as if expecting contradiction and + desiring to forestall it, “I am well aware, that you have no more + prejudices than I have or ever had. What I am going to ask of you is + merely what I should in your place under like circumstances be willing to + do, without a moment’s hesitation. Indeed, I have never hesitated, at the + call of destiny or as the outcome of caprice, to commit a rascality, or + rather, that to which fools give such a name. Like you, Lorenzi, I have + ever been ready to hazard my life for less than nothing, and to call it + quits. I am ready to do so now, if my proposal prove inacceptable. We are + made of the same stuff, you and I; we are brothers in spirit; we may + therefore disclose our souls to one another without false shame, proud in + our nakedness. Here are my two thousand ducats. Call them yours, if you + enable me to spend to-night in your place with Marcolina.—Let us not + stand still, if you please, Lorenzi. Let us continue our walk.” They + walked through the fields, beneath the fruit trees, between which the + vines, heavy with grape-clusters, were trellised. Casanova went on without + a pause: “Don’t answer me yet, Lorenzi, for I have not finished. My + request would naturally be, if not monstrous, at least preposterous, if it + were your intention to make Marcolina your wife, or if Marcolina’s own + hopes or wishes turned in this direction. But just as last night was your + first night spent in love together”—he uttered this guess as if he + had absolute knowledge of the fact—“so also was the ensuing night + predestined, according to all human calculation, according to your own + expectations and Marcolina’s, to be your last night together for a long + period and probably for ever. I am absolutely convinced that Marcolina + herself, in order to save her lover from certain destruction, and simply + upon his wish, would be perfectly willing to give this one night to his + savior. For she, too, is a philosopher, and is therefore just as free from + prejudices as we are. Nevertheless, certain as I am that she would meet + the test, I am far from intending that it should be imposed upon her. To + possess a woman outwardly passive but inwardly resistant, would be far + from satisfying my desires, least of all in the present case. I wish, not + merely as a lover, but also as one beloved, to taste a rapture which I + should be prepared to pay for with my life. Understand this clearly, + Lorenzi. For the reason I have explained, Marcolina must not for an + instant suspect that I am the man whom she is clasping to her sweet bosom; + she must be firmly convinced that you are in her arms. It is your part to + pave the way for this deception; mine to maintain it. You will not have + much difficulty in making her understand that you will have to leave her + before dawn. Nor need you be at a loss for a pretext as to the necessity + for perfectly mute caresses when you return at night, as you will promise + to return. To avert all danger of discovery at the last moment, I shall, + when the time comes for me to leave, act as if I heard a suspicious noise + outside the window. Seizing my cloak,—or rather yours, which you + must of course lend me for the occasion—I shall vanish through the + window, never to return. For, of course, I shall take my leave this + evening. But half-way back to Mantua, telling the coachman that I have + forgotten some important papers, I shall return here on foot. Entering the + garden by the side door (you must give me the master-key), I shall creep + to Marcolina’s window, which must be opened for me at midnight. I shall + have taken off my clothes in the carriage, even to my shoes and stockings, + and shall wear only your cloak, so that when I take to flight nothing will + be left to betray either you or me. The cloak and the two thousand ducats + will be at your disposal at five o’clock to-morrow morning in the inn at + Mantua, so that you may deliver over the money to the Marchese even before + the appointed hour. I pledge my solemn oath to fulfil my side of the + bargain. I have finished.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stood still. The sun was near to setting. A gentle breeze made + the yellow ears rustle; the tower of Olivo’s house glowed red in the + evening light. Lorenzi, too, halted. His pale face was motionless, as he + gazed into vacancy over Casanova’s shoulder. His arms hung limp by his + sides, whereas Casanova’s hand, ready for any emergency, rested as if by + chance upon the hilt of his sword. A few seconds elapsed, and Lorenzi was + still silent. He seemed immersed in tranquil thought, but Casanova + remained on the alert, holding the kerchief with the ducats in his left + hand, but keeping the right upon his sword-hilt. He spoke once more. + </p> + <p> + “You have honorably fulfilled my conditions. I know that it has not been + easy. For even though we may be free from prejudices, the atmosphere in + which we live is so full of them that we cannot wholly escape their + influence. And just as you, Lorenzi, during the last quarter of an hour, + have more than once been on the point of seizing me by the throat; so I, I + must confess, played for a time with the idea of giving you the two + thousand ducats as to my friend. Rarely, Lorenzi, have I been so strangely + drawn to anyone as I was to you from the first. But had I yielded to this + generous impulse, the next moment I should have regretted it bitterly. In + like manner you, Lorenzi, hi the moment before you blow your brains out, + would desperately regret having been such a fool as to throw away a + thousand nights of love with new and ever new women for one single night + of love which neither night nor day was to follow.” + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi remained mute. His silence continued for many minutes, until + Casanova began to ask himself how long his patience was to be tried. He + was on the point of departing with a curt salutation, and of thus + indicating that he understood his proposition to have been rejected, when + Lorenzi, without a word slowly moved his right hand backwards into the + tail-pocket of his coat. Casanova, ever on his guard, instantly stepped + back a pace, and was ready to duck. Lorenzi handed him the key of the + garden door. + </p> + <p> + Casanova’s movement, which had certainly betokened fear, brought to + Lorenzi’s lips the flicker of a contemptuous smile. Casanova was able to + repress all sign of his rising anger, for he knew that had he given way to + it he might have ruined his design. Taking the key with a nod, he merely + said: “No doubt that means Yes. In an hour from now—an hour will + suffice for your understanding with Marcolina—I shall expect you in + the turret chamber. There, in exchange for your cloak, I shall have the + pleasure of handing you the two thousand gold pieces without further + delay. First of all, as a token of confidence; and secondly because I + really do not know what I should do with the money during the night.” + </p> + <p> + They parted without further formality. Lorenzi returned to the house by + the path along which they had both come. Casanova made his way to the + village by a different route. At the inn there, by paying a considerable + sum as earnest money, he was able to arrange for a carriage to await him + at ten o’clock that evening for the drive from Olivo’s house into Mantua. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE. + </h2> + <p> + Returning to the house, Casanova disposed of his gold in a safe corner of + the turret chamber. Thence he descended to the garden, where a spectacle + awaited him, not in itself remarkable, but one which touched him strangely + in his present mood. Upon a bench at the edge of the greensward Olivo was + sitting beside Amalia, his arm round her waist. Reclining at their feet + were the three girls, tired out by the afternoon’s play. Maria, the + youngest, had her head in her mother’s lap, and seemed to be asleep; + Nanetta lay at full length on the grass with her head pillowed on her arm; + Teresina was leaning against her father’s knee, and he was stroking her + hair. As Casanova drew near, Teresina greeted him, not with the look of + lascivious understanding which he had involuntarily expected, but with a + frank smile of childlike confidence, as if what had passed between them + only a few hours before had been nothing more than some trivial pastime. + Olivo’s face lighted up in friendly fashion, and Amalia nodded a cordial + greeting. It was plain to Casanova that they were receiving him as one who + had just performed a generous deed, but who would prefer, from a sense of + refinement, that no allusion should be made to the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really determined to leave us tomorrow, Chevalier?” enquired + Olivo. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-morrow,” answered Casanova, “but, as I told you, this very + evening.” + </p> + <p> + Olivo would fain have renewed his protests, but Casanova shrugged, saying + in a tone of regret: “Unfortunately, my letter from Venice leaves me no + option. The summons sent to me is so honorable in every respect that to + delay my return home would be an unpardonable affront to my distinguished + patrons.” He asked his host and hostess to excuse him for a brief space. + He would go to his room, make all ready for departure, and would then be + able to enjoy the last hours of his stay undisturbed in his dear friends’ + company. + </p> + <p> + Disregarding further entreaties, he went to the turret chamber, and first + of all changed his attire, since the simpler suit must suffice for the + journey. He then packed his valise, and listened for Lorenzi’s footsteps + with an interest which grew keener from moment to moment. Before the time + was up, Lorenzi, knocking once at the door, entered, wearing a dark blue + riding-cloak. Without a word, he slipped the cloak from his shoulders and + let it fall to the floor, where it lay between the two men, a shapeless + mass of cloth. Casanova withdrew his kerchief filled with the gold pieces + from beneath the bolster, and emptied the money on the table. He counted + the coins under Lorenzi’s eyes—a process which was soon over, for + many of the gold pieces were worth several ducats each. Putting the + stipulated sum into two purses, he handed these to Lorenzi. This left + about a hundred ducats for himself. Lorenzi stuffed the purses into his + tail-pockets, and was about to leave, still silent. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment, Lorenzi,” said Casanova. “Our paths in life may cross once + again. If so let us meet as friends. We have made a bargain like many + another bargain; let us cry quits.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova held out his hand. Lorenzi would not take it. He spoke for the + first time. “I cannot recall that anything was said about this in our + agreement.” Turning on his heel he left the room. “Do we stand so strictly + upon the letter, my friend?” thought Casanova. “It behooves me all the + more to see to it that I am not duped in the end.” In truth, he had given + no serious thought to this possibility. He knew from personal experience + that such men as Lorenzi have their own peculiar code of honor, a code + which cannot be written in formal propositions, but which they can be + relied upon to observe. + </p> + <p> + He packed Lorenzi’s cloak in the top of the valise. Having stowed away + upon his person the remaining gold pieces, he took a final glance round + the room which he was never likely to revisit. Then with sword and hat, + ready for the journey, he made his way to the hall, where he found Olivo, + Amalia, and the children already seated at table. At the same instant, + Marcolina entered by the garden door. The coincidence was interpreted by + Casanova as a propitious sign. She answered his salutation with a frank + inclination of the head. + </p> + <p> + Supper was now served. The conversation dragged a little at first, as if + all were oppressed by the thought of the imminent leave-taking. Amalia + seemed busied with her girls, concerned to see that they were not helped + to too much or too little. Olivo, somewhat irrelevantly, began to speak of + a trifling lawsuit he had just won against a neighboring landowner. Next + he referred to a business journey to Mantua and Cremona, which he would + shortly have to undertake. Casanova expressed the hope that ere long he + would be able to entertain his friend in Venice, a city which, by a + strange chance, Olivo had never visited. Amalia had seen the place of + wonder as a child. She could not recall the journey thither, but could + only remember having seen an old man wrapped in a scarlet cloak, + disembarking from a long black boat. He had stumbled and had fallen prone. + </p> + <p> + “Have you never been to Venice either?” asked Casanova of Marcolina, who + was seated facing him, so that she could see over his shoulder into the + deep gloom of the garden. She shook her head. Casanova mused: “If I could + but show you the city in which I passed my youth! Had you but been young + with me!” Another thought, as foolish as both of these, crossed his mind: + “Even now, if I could but take you there with me.” + </p> + <p> + While thus thinking, at the same time, with the ease of manner peculiar to + him in moments of great excitement, he began to speak of his native city. + At first his language was cool; he used an artist’s touch, as if painting + a picture. Warming up by degrees, he entered into details of personal + history, so that of a sudden his own figure appeared in the centre of the + canvas, filling it with life. He spoke of his mother, the celebrated + actress, for whom her admirer Goldoni had written his admirable comedy, <i>La + Pupilla</i>. Next he recounted the unhappy days spent in Dr. Gozzi’s + boarding school. Then he spoke of his childish passion for the gardener’s + little daughter, who had subsequently run away with a lackey; of his first + sermon as a young abbate, after which he found in the offertory bag, in + addition to the usual collection, a number of love letters; of his doings + as a fiddler in the orchestra of the San Samueli Theatre; of the pranks + which he and his companions had played in the alleys, taverns, dancing + halls, and gaming-houses of Venice—sometimes masked and sometimes + unmasked. In telling the story of these riotous escapades, he was careful + to avoid the use of any offensive epithet. He phrased his narrative in + choice imaginative language, as if paying due regard to the presence of + the young girls, who, like their elders, including Marcolina, listened + with rapt attention. The hour grew late, and Amalia sent her daughters to + bed. They all kissed Casanova a tender good-night, Teresina behaving + exactly like her sisters. He made them promise that they would soon come + with their father and mother to visit him in Venice. When they had gone, + he spoke with less restraint, but continued to avoid any unsuitable + innuendo or display of vanity. His audience might have imagined themselves + listening to the story of a Parsifal rather than to that of a Casanova, + the dangerous seducer and half-savage adventurer. + </p> + <p> + He told them of the fair Unknown who had travelled with him for weeks + disguised as a man in officer’s uniform, and one morning had suddenly + disappeared from his side; of the daughter of the gentleman cobbler in + Madrid who, in the intervals between their embraces, had studiously + endeavored to make a good Catholic of him; of Lia, the lovely Jewess of + Turin, who had a better seat on horseback than any princess; of Manon + Balletti, sweet and innocent, the only woman he had almost married; of the + singer whom he had hissed in Warsaw because of her bad performance, + whereupon he had had to fight a duel with her lover, General Branitzky, + and had been compelled to flee the city; of the wicked woman Charpillon, + who had made such an abject fool of him in London; of the night when he + crossed the lagoons to Murano on the way to his adored nun, the night when + he nearly lost his life in a storm; of Croce the gamester, who, after + losing a fortune at Spa, had taken a tearful farewell of Casanova upon the + high-road, and had set off on his way to St. Petersburg, just as he was, + wearing silk stockings and a coat of apple-green satin, and carrying + nothing but a walking cane. + </p> + <p> + He told of actresses, singers, dressmakers, countesses, dancers, + chambermaids; of gamblers, officers, princes, envoys, financiers, + musicians, and adventurers. So carried away was he by the rediscovered + charm of his own past, so completely did the triumph of these splendid + though irrecoverable experiences eclipse the consciousness of the shadows + that encompassed his present, that he was on the point of telling the + story of a pale but pretty girl who in a twilit church at Mantua had + confided her love troubles to him—absolutely forgetting that this + same girl, sixteen years older, now sat at the table before him as the + wife of his friend Olivo—when the maid came in to say that the + carriage was waiting. Instantly, with his incomparable talent for doing + the right thing, Casanova rose to bid adieu. He again pressed Olivo, who + was too much affected to speak, to bring wife and children to visit him in + Venice. Having embraced his friend, he approached Amalia with intent to + embrace her also, but she held out her hand and he kissed it + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + When he turned to Marcolina, she said: “You ought to write down everything + you told us this evening, Chevalier, and a great deal more, just as you + have penned the story of your flight from The Leads.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean that, Marcolina?” he enquired, with the shyness of a + young author. + </p> + <p> + She smiled with gentle mockery, saying: “I fancy such a book might prove + far more entertaining than your polemic against Voltaire.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely,” he thought. “Perhaps I may follow your advice some day. If + so, you, Marcolina, shall be the theme of the last chapter.” + </p> + <p> + This notion, and still more the thought that the last chapter was to be + lived through that very night, made his face light up so strangely that + Marcolina, who had given him her hand in farewell, drew it away again + before he could stoop to kiss it. Without betraying either disappointment + or anger, Casanova turned to depart, after signifying, with one of those + simple gestures of which he was a master, his desire that no one, not even + Olivo, should follow him. + </p> + <p> + He strode rapidly through the chestnut avenue, handed a gold piece to the + maid who had brought his valise to the carriage, took his seat and drove + away. + </p> + <p> + The sky was overcast. In the village, lamps were still burning in some of + the cottages; but by the time the carriage regained the open road, the + only light piercing the darkness was supplied by the yellow rays of the + lantern dangling from the shaft. Casanova opened the valise, took out + Lorenzi’s cloak, flung it over his shoulders, and under this cover rapidly + undressed. He packed the discarded clothing, together with shoes and + stockings, in the valise, and wrapped himself in the cloak. Then he called + to the coachman: + </p> + <p> + “Stop, we must drive back!” + </p> + <p> + The coachman turned heavily hi his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I have left some of my papers in the house. Don’t you understand? We must + drive back.” + </p> + <p> + When the coachman, a surly, thin greybeard, still hesitated, Casanova + said: “Of course I will pay you extra for your trouble. Here you are!” He + pressed a gold piece into the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + The coachman nodded, muttered something, gave his horse a needless cut + with the whip, and turned the carriage round. When they drove back through + the village, all the houses were dark. A little farther on, the coachman + was about to turn into the by-road leading up the gentle ascent to Olivo’s + house. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” cried Casanova. “We won’t drive any nearer, lest we should wake + them all up. Wait for me here at the corner. I shall be back in a minute + or two. If I should happen to keep you longer, you shall have a ducat for + every hour!” + </p> + <p> + The man by his nod seemed to show he understood what was afoot. + </p> + <p> + Casanova descended and made quickly past the closed door and along the + wall to the corner. Here began the path leading through the vineyards. It + still led along the wall. Having walked it twice by daylight, Casanova had + no difficulty in the dark. Half way up the hill came a second angle in the + wall. Here he had again to turn to the right, across soft meadow-land, and + in the pitchy night had to feel along the wall until he found the garden + door. At length his fingers recognized the change from smooth stone to + rough wood, and he could easily make out the framework of the narrow door. + He unlocked it, entered the garden, and made all fast again behind him. + </p> + <p> + Across the greensward he could now discern house and tower. They seemed + incredibly far off and yet incredibly large. He stood where he was for a + while, looking around. What to other eyes would have been impenetrable + darkness, was to him no more than deep twilight. The gravel path being + painful to his bare feet, he walked upon the greensward, where, moreover, + his footfall made no sound. So light was his tread that he felt as if + soaring. + </p> + <p> + “Has my mood changed,” he thought, “since those days when, as a man of + thirty, I sought such adventures? Do I not now, as then, feel all the + ardors of desire and all the sap of youth course through my veins? Am I + not, as of old, Casanova? Being Casanova, why should I be subject, as + others are subject, to the pitiful law which is called age!” + </p> + <p> + Growing bolder, he asked himself: “Why am I creeping in disguise to + Marcolina? Is not Casanova a better man than Lorenzi, even though he be + thirty years older? Is not she the one woman who would have understood the + incomprehensible? Was it needful to commit this lesser rascality, and to + mislead another man into the commission of a greater rascality? Should I + not, with a little patience, have reached the same goal? Lorenzi would in + any case have gone to-morrow, whilst I should have remained. Five days, + three days, and she would have given herself to me, knowing me to be + Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + He stood close to the wall of the house beneath Marcolina’s window, which + was still closed. His thoughts ran on: “Is it too late? I could come back + to-morrow or the next day. Could begin the work of seduction—in + honorable fashion, so to speak. To-night would be but a foretaste of the + future. Marcolina must not learn that I have been here to-day—or not + until much later.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN. + </h2> + <p> + Marcolina’s window was still closed. There was no sign from within. It + wanted a few minutes to midnight. Should he make his presence known in any + way? By tapping gently at the window? Since nothing of this sort had been + arranged, it might arouse Marcolina’s suspicions. Better wait. It could + not be much longer. The thought that she might instantly recognize him, + might detect the fraud before he had achieved his purpose, crossed his + mind—not for the first time, yet as a passing fancy, as a remote + possibility which it was logical to take into account, but not anything to + be seriously dreaded. + </p> + <p> + A ludicrous adventure now recurred to his mind. Twenty years ago he had + spent a night with a middle-aged ugly vixen in Soleure, when he had + imagined himself to be possessing a beautiful young woman whom he adored. + He recalled how next day, in a shameless letter, she had derided him for + the mistake that she had so greatly desired him to make and that she had + compassed with such infamous cunning. He shuddered at the thought. It was + the last thing he would have wished to think of just now, and he drove the + detestable image from his mind. + </p> + <p> + It must be midnight! How long was he to stand shivering there? Waiting in + vain, perhaps? Cheated, after all? Two thousand ducats for nothing. + Lorenzi behind the curtain, mocking at the fool outside! + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily he gripped the hilt of the sword he carried beneath the + cloak, pressed to his naked body. After all, with a fellow like Lorenzi + one must be prepared for any tricks. + </p> + <p> + At that instant he heard a gentle rattling, and knew it was made by the + grating of Marcolina’s window hi opening. Then both wings of the window + were drawn back, though the curtain still veiled the interior. Casanova + remained motionless for a few seconds more, until the curtain was pulled + aside by an unseen hand. Taking this as a sign, he swung himself over the + sill into the room, and promptly closed window and grating behind him. The + curtain had fallen across his shoulders, so that he had to push his way + beneath it. Now he would have been in absolute darkness had there not been + shining from the depths of the distance, incredibly far away, as if + awakened by his own gaze, the faintest possible illumination to show him + the way. No more than three paces forward, and eager arms enfolded him. + Letting the sword slip from his hand, the cloak from his shoulders, he + gave himself up to his bliss. + </p> + <p> + From Marcolina’s sigh of surrender, from the tears of happiness which he + kissed from her cheeks, from the ever-renewed warmth with which she + received his caresses, he felt sure that she shared his rapture; and to + him this rapture seemed more intense than he had ever experienced, seemed + to possess a new and strange quality. Pleasure became worship; passion was + transfused with an intense consciousness. Here at last was the reality + which he had often falsely imagined himself to be on the point of + attaining, and which had always eluded his grasp. He held in his arms a + woman upon whom he could squander himself, with whom he could feel himself + inexhaustible; the woman upon whose breast the moment of ultimate + self-abandonment and of renewed desire seemed to coalesce into a single + instant of hitherto unimagined spiritual ecstasy. Were not life and death, + time and eternity, one upon these lips? Was he not a god? Were not youth + and age merely a fable; visions of men’s fancy? Were not home and exile, + splendor and misery, renown and oblivion, senseless distinctions, fit only + for the use of the uneasy, the lonely, the frustrate; had not the words + become unmeaning to one who was Casanova, and who had found Marcolina? + </p> + <p> + More contemptible, more absurd, as the minutes passed, seemed to him the + prospect of keeping the resolution which he had made when still + pusillanimous, of acting on the determination to flee out of this night of + miracle dumbly, unrecognized, like a thief. With the infallible conviction + that he must be the bringer of delight even as he was the receiver of + delight, he felt prepared for the venture of disclosing his name, even + though he knew all the time that he would thus play for a great stake, the + loss of which would involve the loss of his very existence. He was still + shrouded in impenetrable darkness, and until the first glimmer of dawn + made its way through the thick curtain, he could postpone a confession + upon whose favorable acceptance by Marcolina his fate, nay his life, + depended. + </p> + <p> + Besides, was not this mute, passionately sweet association the very thing + to bind Marcolina to him more firmly with each kiss that they enjoyed? + Would not the ineffable bliss of this night transmute into truth what had + been conceived in falsehood? His duped mistress, woman of women, had she + not already an inkling that it was not Lorenzi, the stripling, but + Casanova, the man, with whom she was mingling in these divine ardors? + </p> + <p> + He began to deem it possible that he might be spared the so greatly + desired and ‘yet so intensely dreaded moment of revelation. He fancied + that Marcolina, thrilling, entranced, transfigured, would spontaneously + whisper his name. Then, when she had forgiven him, he would take her with + him that very hour. Together they would leave the house in the grey dawn; + together they would seek the carriage that was waiting at the turn of the + road; together they would drive away. She would be his for evermore. This + would be the crown of his life; that at an age when others were doomed to + a sad senility, he, by the overwhelming might of his unconquerable + personality, would have won for himself the youngest, the most beautiful, + the most gifted of women. + </p> + <p> + For this woman was his as no woman had ever been before. He glided with + her through mysterious, narrow canals, between palaces in whose shadows he + was once more at home, under high-arched bridges which blurred figures + were swiftly crossing. Many of the wayfarers glanced down for a moment + over the parapet, and vanished ere their faces could be discerned. + </p> + <p> + Now the gondola drew alongside. A marble stairway led up to the stately + mansion of Senator Bragadino. It was the only palace holding festival. + Masked guests were ascending and descending. Many of them paused with + inquisitive glances; but who could recognize Casanova and Marcolina in + their dominoes? + </p> + <p> + He entered the hall with her. Here was a great company playing for high + stakes. All the senators, Bragadino among them, were seated round the + table in their purple robes. As Casanova came through the door, they + whispered his name as if terror-stricken, for the flashing of his eyes + behind the mask had disclosed his identity. He did not sit down; he did + not take any cards, and yet he joined in the game. He won. He won all the + gold on the table, and this did not suffice. The senators had to give him + notes of hand. They lost their possessions, their palaces, their purple + robes; they were beggars; they crawled round him clad in rags, kissing his + hands. + </p> + <p> + Nearby, in a hall with crimson hangings, there was music and dancing. + Casanova wished to dance with Marcolina, but she had vanished. Once again + the senators in their purple robes were seated at the table; but now + Casanova knew that the hazards at stake were not those of a game of cards; + he knew that the destinies of accused persons, some criminal and some + innocent, hung in the balance. + </p> + <p> + What had become of Marcolina? Had he not been holding her by the hand all + the time? He rushed down the staircase. The gondola was waiting. On, on, + through the maze of canals. Of course the gondolier knew where Marcolina + was; but why was he, too, masked? That had not been the custom of old in + Venice. Casanova wished to question him, but was afraid. Does a man become + so cowardly when he grows old? + </p> + <p> + Onward, ever onward. How huge Venice had grown during these + five-and-twenty years! At length the houses came to an end; the canal + opened out; they were passing between islands; there stood the walls of + the Murano nunnery, to which Marcolina had fled. + </p> + <p> + There was no gondola now; he had to swim; how delightful! It was true that + in Venice the children were playing with his gold pieces. But what was + money to him? The water was now warm, now cold; it dripped from his + clothing as he climbed over the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Marcolina?” he enquired in the parlor, in loud, challenging + tones such as only a prince would dare to use. + </p> + <p> + “I will summon her,” said the Lady Abbess, and sank into the ground. + </p> + <p> + Casanova wandered about; he had wings; he fluttered to and fro along the + gratings, fluttered like a bat. “If I had only known sooner that I can + fly,” he thought. “I will teach Marcolina.” + </p> + <p> + Behind the gratings, the figures of women were moving hither and thither. + They were nuns—and yet they were all wearing secular dress. He knew + it, though he could not really see them. He knew who they were. Henriette + the Unknown; Corticelli and Cristina, the dancers; the bride; Dubois the + Beautiful; the accurst vixen of Soleure; Manon Balletti; a hundred others—but + never Marcolina! + </p> + <p> + “You have betrayed me,” he cried to the gondolier, who was waiting for him + beneath. Never had he hated anyone as he hated this gondolier, and he + swore to take an exquisite revenge. + </p> + <p> + But how foolish he had been to seek Marcolina in the Murano nunnery when + she had gone to visit Voltaire. It was fortunate that he could fly, since + he had no money left with which to pay for a carriage. + </p> + <p> + He swam away. But he was no longer enjoying himself. The water grew colder + and colder; he was drifting out into the open sea, far from Murano, far + from Venice, and there was no ship within sight; his heavy + gold-embroidered garments were dragging him down; he tried to strip them + off, but it was impossible, for he was holding his manuscript, the + manuscript he had to give to M. Voltaire. The water was pouring into his + mouth and nose; deadly fear seized him; he clutched at impalpable things; + there was a rattling in his throat; he screamed; and with a great effort + he opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Between the curtain and the window-frame the dawn was making its way + through in a narrow strip of light. Marcolina, in her white nightdress and + with hands crossed upon her bosom, was standing at the foot of the bed + contemplating Casanova with unutterable horror. Her glance instantly + recalled him to his senses. Involuntarily he stretched out his arms + towards her with a gesture of appeal. Marcolina, as if rejecting this + appeal, waved him away with her left hand, while with the right she + continued to grasp her raiment convulsively. Casanova sat up, his eyes + riveted upon her. Neither was able to look away from the other. His + expression was one of rage and shame; hers was one of shame and disgust. + Casanova knew how she saw him, for he saw himself figured in imagination, + just as he had seen himself yesterday in the bedroom mirror. A yellow, + evil face, deeply lined, with thin lips and staring eyes—a face + three times worse than that of yesterday, because of the excesses of the + night, the ghastly dream of the morning, and the terrible awakening. And + what he read in Marcolina’s countenance was not what he would a thousand + times rather have read there; it was not thief, libertine, villain. He + read only something which crushed him to earth more ignominiously than + could any terms of abuse; he read the word which to him was the most + dreadful of all words, since it passed a final judgment upon him—old + man. + </p> + <p> + Had it been within his power to annihilate himself by a spell, he would + have done so, that he might be spared from having to creep out of the bed + and display himself to Marcolina in his nakedness, which must appear to + her more loathsome than the sight of some loathsome beast. + </p> + <p> + But Marcolina, as if gradually collecting herself, and manifestly in order + to give him the opportunity which was indispensable, turned her face to + the wall. He seized the moment to get out of bed, to raise the cloak from + the floor, and to wrap himself in it. He was quick, too, to make sure of + his sword. Now, when he conceived himself to have at least escaped the + worst contumely of all, that of ludicrousness, he began to wonder whether + it would not be possible to throw another light upon this affair in which + he cut so pitiful a figure. He was an adept in the use of language. Could + he not somehow or other, by a few well-chosen words, give matters a + favorable turn? + </p> + <p> + From the nature of the circumstances, it was evidently impossible for + Marcolina to doubt that Lorenzi had sold her to Casanova. Yet however + intensely she might hate her wretched lover at that moment, Casanova felt + that he himself, the cowardly thief, must seem a thousand times more + hateful. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps another course offered better promise of satisfaction. He might + degrade Marcolina by mockery and lascivious phrases, full of innuendo. But + this spiteful idea could not be sustained in face of the aspect she had + now assumed. Her expression of horror had gradually been transformed into + one of infinite sadness, as if it had been not Marcolina’s womanhood alone + which had been desecrated by Casanova, but as if during the night that had + just closed a nameless and inexpiable offence had been committed by + cunning against trust, by lust against love, by age against youth. Beneath + this gaze which, to Casanova’s extremest torment, reawakened for a brief + space all that was still good in him, he turned away. Without looking + round at Marcolina, he went to the window, drew the curtain aside, opened + casement and grating, cast a glance round the garden which still seemed to + slumber in the twilight, and swung himself across the sill into the open. + </p> + <p> + Aware of the possibility that someone in the house might already be awake + and might spy him from a window, he avoided the greensward and sought + cover in the shaded alley. Passing through the door in the wall, he had + hardly closed it behind him, when someone blocked his path. “The + gondolier!” was his first idea. For now he suddenly realized that the + gondolier in his dream had been Lorenzi. The young officer stood before + him. His silver-braided scarlet tunic glowed in the morning light. + </p> + <p> + “What a splendid uniform,” was the thought that crossed Casanova’s + confused, weary brain. “It looks quite new. I am sure it has not been paid + for.” These trivial reflections helped him to the full recovery of his + wits; and as soon as he realized the situation, his mind was filled with + gladness. Drawing himself up proudly, and grasping the hilt of his sword + firmly beneath the cloak, he said in a tone of the utmost amiability: + “Does it not seem to you, Lieutenant Lorenzi, that this notion of yours + has come a thought too late?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means,” answered Lorenzi, looking handsomer than any man Casanova + had ever seen before. “Only one of us two shall leave the place alive.” + </p> + <p> + “What a hurry you are in, Lorenzi,” said Casanova in an almost tender + tone. “Cannot the affair rest until we reach Mantua? I shall be delighted + to give you a lift in my carriage, which is waiting at the turn of the + road. There is a great deal to be said for observing the forms in these + matters, especially in such a case as ours.” + </p> + <p> + “No forms are needed. You or I, Casanova, at this very hour.” He drew his + sword. + </p> + <p> + Casanova shrugged. “Just as you please, Lorenzi. But you might at least + remember that I shall be reluctantly compelled to appear in a very + inappropriate costume.” He threw open the cloak and stood there nude, + playing with the sword in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Hate welled up in Lorenzi’s eyes. “You shall not be at any disadvantage,” + he said, and began to strip with all possible speed. + </p> + <p> + Casanova turned away, and for the moment wrapped himself in his cloak once + more, for though the sun was already piercing the morning mists, the air + was chill. Long shadows lay across the fields, cast by the sparse trees on + the hill-top. For an instant Casanova wondered whether someone might not + come down the path. Doubtless it was used only by Olivo and the members of + his household. It occurred to Casanova that these were perhaps the last + minutes of his life, and he was amazed at his own calmness. + </p> + <p> + “M. Voltaire is a lucky fellow,” came as a passing thought. But in truth + he had no interest in Voltaire, and he would have been glad at this + supreme moment to have been able to call up pleasanter images than that of + the old author’s vulturine physiognomy. How strange it was that no birds + were piping in the trees over the wall. A change of weather must be + imminent. But what did the weather matter to him? He would rather think of + Marcolina, of the ecstasy he had enjoyed in her arms, and for which he was + now to pay dear. Dear? Cheap enough! A few years of an old man’s life hi + penury and obscurity. What was there left for him to do in the world? To + poison Bragadino? Was it worth the trouble? Nothing was worth the trouble. + How few trees there were on the hill! He began to count them. “Five... + seven... ten.—Have I nothing better to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready, Casanova.” + </p> + <p> + Casanova turned smartly. Lorenzi stood before him, splendid in his + nakedness like a young god. No trace of meanness lingered in his face. He + seemed equally ready to kill or to die. + </p> + <p> + “What if I were to throw away my sword?” thought Casanova. “What if I were + to embrace him?” He slipped the cloak from his shoulders and stood like + Lorenzi, lean and naked. + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi lowered his point in salute, in accordance with the rules of + fence. Casanova returned the salute. Next moment they crossed blades, and + the steel glittered like silver in the sun. + </p> + <p> + “How long is it,” thought Casanova, “since last I stood thus measuring + sword with sword?” But none of his serious duels now recurred to his mind. + He could think only of practice with the foils, such as ten years earlier + he used to have every morning with his valet Costa, the rascal who + afterwards bolted with a hundred and fifty thousand lire. “All the same, + he was a fine fencer; nor has my hand forgotten its cunning! My arm is as + true, my vision as keen, as ever..... Youth and age are fables. Am I not a + god? Are we not both gods? If anyone could see us now. There are women who + would pay a high price for the spectacle!” + </p> + <p> + The blades bent, the points sparkled; at each contact the rapiers sang + softly in the morning air. “A fight? No, a fencing match! Why this look of + horror, Marcolina? Are we not both worthy of your love? He is but a + youngster; I am Casanova!” + </p> + <p> + Lorenzi sank to the ground, thrust through the heart. The sword fell from + his grip. He opened his eyes wide, as if in utter astonishment. Once he + raised his head for a moment, while his lips were fixed in a wry smile. + Then the head fell back again, his nostrils dilated, there was a slight + rattling in his throat, and he was dead. + </p> + <p> + Casanova bent over him, kneeled beside the body, saw a few drops of blood + ooze from the wound, held his hand in front of Lorenzi’s mouth—but + the breath was stilled. A cold shiver passed through Casanova’s frame. He + rose and put on his cloak. Then, returning to the body, he glanced at the + fallen youth, lying stark on the turf in incomparable beauty. The silence + was broken by a soft rustling, as the morning breeze stirred the + tree-tops. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I do?” Casanova asked himself. “Shall I summon aid? Olivo? + Amalia? Marcolina? To what purpose? No one can bring him back to life.” + </p> + <p> + He pondered with the calmness invariable to him in the most dangerous + moments of his career. “It may be hours before anyone finds him; perhaps + no one will come by before evening; perchance later still. That will give + me time, and time is of the first importance.” + </p> + <p> + He was still holding his sword. Noticing that it was bloody, he wiped it + on the grass. He thought for a moment of dressing the corpse, but to do + this would have involved the loss of precious and irrecoverable minutes. + Paying the last duties, he bent once more and closed Lorenzi’s eyes. + “Lucky fellow,” he murmured; and then, dreamily, he kissed the dead man’s + forehead. + </p> + <p> + He strode along beside the wall, turned the angle, and regained the road. + The carriage was where he had left it, the coachman fast asleep on the + box. Casanova was careful to avoid waking the man at first. Not until he + had cautiously taken his seat did he call out: “Hullo, drive on, can’t + you?” and prodded him in the back. The startled coachman looked round, + greatly astonished to find that it was broad daylight. Then he whipped up + his horse and drove off. + </p> + <p> + Casanova sat far back in the carriage, wrapped in the cloak which had once + belonged to Lorenzi. In the village a few children were to be seen in the + streets, but it was plain that the elders were already at work in the + fields. When the houses had been left behind Casanova drew a long breath. + Opening the valise, he withdrew his clothes, and dressed beneath the cover + of the cloak, somewhat concerned lest the coachman should turn and + discover his fare’s strange behavior. But nothing of the sort happened. + Unmolested, Casanova was able to finish dressing, to pack away Lorenzi’s + cloak, and resume his own. + </p> + <p> + Glancing skyward, Casanova saw that the heavens were overcast. He had no + sense of fatigue, but felt tense and wakeful. He thought over his + situation, considering it from every possible point of view, and coming to + the conclusion that, though grave, it was less alarming than it might have + seemed to timid spirits. He would probably be suspected of having killed + Lorenzi, but who could doubt that it had been in an honorable fight? + Besides, Lorenzi had been lying in wait, had forced the encounter upon + him, and no one could consider him a criminal for having fought in + self-defence. But why had he left the body lying on the grass like that of + a dead dog? Well, nobody could reproach him on that account. To flee away + swiftly had been well within his right, had been almost a duty. In his + place, Lorenzi would have done the same. But perhaps Venice would hand him + over? Directly he arrived, he would claim the protection of his patron + Bragadino. Yet this might involve his accusing himself of a deed which + would after all remain undiscovered, or at any rate would perhaps never be + laid to his charge. What proof was there against him? Had he not been + summoned to Venice? Who could say that he went thither as a fugitive from + justice? The coachman maybe, who had waited for him half the night. One or + two additional gold pieces would stop the fellow’s mouth. + </p> + <p> + Thus his thoughts ran in a circle. Suddenly he fancied he heard the sound + of horses’ hoofs from the road behind him. “Already?” was his first + thought. He leaned over the side of the carriage to look backwards. All + was clear. The carriage had driven past a farm, and the sound he had heard + had been the echo of his own horse’s hoofs. The discovery of this + momentary self-deception quieted his apprehensions for a time, so that it + seemed to him the danger was over. He could now see the towers of Mantua. + “Drive on, man, drive on,” he said under his breath, for he did not really + wish the coachman to hear. The coachman, nearing the goal, had given the + horse his head. Soon they reached the gate through which Casanova had left + the town with Olivo less than forty-eight hours earlier. He told the + coachman the name of the inn, and in a few minutes the carriage drew up at + the sign of the Golden Lion. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN. + </h2> + <p> + Casanova leaped from the carriage. The hostess stood in the doorway. She + was bright and smiling, in the mood apparently to give Casanova the warm + welcome of a lover whose absence has been regretted and whose return has + been eagerly desired. But Casanova looked warningly towards the coachman, + implying that the man might be an inconvenient witness, and then told him + to eat and drink to his heart’s content. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Venice arrived for you yesterday, Chevalier,” announced the + hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Another?” enquired Casanova, going upstairs to his room. + </p> + <p> + The hostess followed. A sealed despatch was lying on the table. Casanova + opened it in great excitement. He was anxious lest it should prove to be a + revocation of the former offer. But the missive contained no more than a + few lines from Bragadino, enclosing a draft for two hundred and fifty + lire, in order that Casanova, should he have made up his mind to accept, + might instantly set out for Venice. + </p> + <p> + Turning to the hostess, Casanova explained with an air of well-simulated + vexation that he was unfortunately compelled to continue his journey + instantly. Were he to delay, he would risk losing the post which his + friend Bragadino had procured for him in Venice, a post for which there + were fully a hundred applicants. Threatening clouds gathered on the + hostess’ face, so Casanova was prompt to add that all he proposed was to + make sure of the appointment and to receive his patent as secretary to the + Supreme Council. As soon as he was installed in office, he would ask + permission to return to Mantua, that he might arrange his affairs. Of + course this request could not be refused. He was going to leave most of + his effects here. When he returned, it would only depend upon his beloved + and charming friend whether she would give up inn-keeping and accompany + him to Venice as his wife. She threw her arms round his neck, and with + brimming eyes asked him whether before starting he would not at least make + a good breakfast, if she might bring it up to his room. He knew she had in + mind to provide a farewell feast, and though he felt no appetite for it, + he agreed to the suggestion simply to be rid of her. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was gone, he packed his bag with such underclothing and + books as he urgently needed. Then, making his way to the parlor, where the + coachman was enjoying a generous meal, he asked the man whether, for a sum + which was more than double the usual fare, he would with the same horse + drive along the Venice road as far as the next posting station. The + coachman agreed without demur, thus relieving Casanova of his principal + anxiety for the time. + </p> + <p> + Now the hostess entered, flushed with annoyance, to ask whether he had + forgotten that his breakfast was awaiting him in his room. Casanova + nonchalantly replied that he had not forgotten for a moment, and begged + her, since he was short of time, to take his draft to the bank, and to + bring back the two hundred and fifty lire. While she was hastening to + fetch the money, Casanova returned to his room, and began to eat with + wolfish voracity. He continued his meal when the hostess came back; + stopping merely for an instant to pocket the money she brought him. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished eating, he turned to the woman. Thinking that her + hour had at length come, she had drawn near, and was pressing up against + him in a manner which could not be misunderstood. He clasped her somewhat + roughly, kissed her on both cheeks, and, although she was obviously ready + to grant him the last favors then and there, exclaimed: “I must be off. + Till our next meeting!” He tore himself away with such violence that she + fell back on to the corner of the couch. Her expression, with its mingling + of disappointment, rage, and impotence, was so irresistibly funny that + Casanova, as he closed the door behind him, burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + The coachman could not fail to realize that his fare was in a hurry, but + it was not his business to ask questions. He sat ready oil the box when + Casanova came out of the inn, and whipped up the horse the very moment the + passenger was seated. On his own initiative he decided not to drive + through the town, but to skirt it, and to rejoin the posting road upon the + other side. The sun was not yet high, for it was only nine o’clock. + Casanova reflected: “It is likely enough that Lorenzi’s body has not been + found yet.” He hardly troubled to think that he himself had killed + Lorenzi. All he knew was that he was glad to be leaving Mantua farther and + farther behind, and glad to have rest at last. + </p> + <p> + He fell into a deep sleep, the deepest he had ever known. It lasted + practically two days and two nights. The brief interruptions to his + slumbers necessitated by the change of horses from time to time, and the + interruptions that occurred when he was sitting in inns, or walking up and + down in front of posting stations, or exchanging a few casual words with + postmasters, innkeepers, customhouse officers, and travellers, did not + linger in his memory as individual details. Thus it came to pass that the + remembrance of these two days and nights merged as it were into the dream + he had dreamed in Marcolina’s bed. Even the duel between the two naked men + upon the green turf in the early sunshine seemed somehow to belong to this + dream, wherein often enough, in enigmatic fashion, he was not Casanova but + Lorenzi; not the victor but the vanquished; not the fugitive, but the + slain round whose pale young body the lonely wind of morning played. + Neither he nor Lorenzi was any more real than were the senators in the + purple robes who had knelt before him like beggars; nor any less real than + such as that old fellow leaning against the parapet of a bridge, to whom + at nightfall he had thrown alms from the carriage. Had not Casanova bent + his powers of reason to the task of distinguishing between real + experiences and dream experiences, he might well have imagined that in + Marcolina’s arms he had fallen into a mad dream from which he did not + awaken until he caught sight of the Campanile of Venice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + It was on the third morning of his journey that Casanova, having reached + Mestre, sighted once more the bell tower after over twenty years of + longing—a pillar of grey stone looming distantly in the twilight. It + was but two leagues now to the beloved city in which he had been young. He + paid the driver without remembering whether this was the fifth or the + sixth with whom he had had to settle since quitting Mantua, and, followed + by a lad carrying his baggage, walked through the mean streets to the + harbor from which to-day, just as five-and-twenty years earlier, the boat + was to leave for Venice at six in the morning. + </p> + <p> + The vessel seemed to have been waiting for him; hardly had he seated + himself upon a narrow bench, among petty traders, manual workers, and + women bringing their wares to market, when she cast off. It was a cloudy + morning; mist was rolling across the lagoons; there was a smell of + bilge-water, damp wood, fish, and fruit. The Campanile grew ever higher; + additional towers appeared; cupolas became visible. The light of the + morning sun was reflected from one roof, from two, from many. Individual + houses were distinguishable, growing larger by degrees. Boats, great and + small, showed through the mist; greetings were shouted from vessel to + vessel. The chatter around him grew louder. A little girl offered him some + grapes for sale. Munching the purple berries, he spat the skins over the + side after the manner of his countrymen. He entered into friendly talk + with someone who expressed satisfaction that the weather seemed to be + clearing at last. + </p> + <p> + “What, has it been raining here for three days? That is news to me. I come + from the south, from Naples and Rome.” + </p> + <p> + The boat had entered the canals of the suburbs. Sordid houses stared at + him with dirty windows, as if with vacant, hostile eyes. Twice or thrice + the vessel stopped at a quay, and passengers came aboard; young fellows, + one of whom had a great portfolio under his arm; women with baskets. + </p> + <p> + Here, at last, was familiar ground. Was not that the church where Martina + used to go to confession? Was not that the house in which, after his own + fashion, he had restored the pallid and dying Agatha to ruddy health? Was + not that the place in which he had dealt with the charming Sylvia’s rascal + of a brother, had beaten the fellow black and blue? Up that canal to the + right, in the small yellow house upon whose splashed steps the fat, + bare-footed woman was standing.... + </p> + <p> + Before he had fully recaptured the distant memory attaching to the house + in question, the boat had entered the Grand Canal, and was passing slowly + up the broad waterway with palaces on either hand. To Casanova, in his + dreamy reflections, it seemed as if but yesterday he had traversed the + same route. + </p> + <p> + He disembarked at the Rialto Bridge, for, before visiting Signor + Bragadino, he wished to make sure of a room in a modest hostelry nearby—he + knew where it was, though he could not recall the name. The place seemed + more decayed, or at least more neglected, than he remembered it of old. A + sulky waiter, badly in need of a shave, showed him to an uninviting room + looking upon the blind wall of a house opposite. Casanova had no time to + lose. Moreover, since he had spent nearly all his cash on the journey, the + cheapness of these quarters was a great attraction. He decided, therefore, + to make his lodging there for the present. Having removed the stains of + travel, he deliberated for a while whether to put on his finer suit; then + decided it was better to wear the soberer raiment, and walked out of the + inn. + </p> + <p> + It was but a hundred paces, along a narrow alley and across a bridge, to + Bragadino’s small but elegant palace. A young servingman with a rather + impudent manner took in Casanova’s name in a way which implied that its + celebrity had no meaning for him. Returning from his master’s apartments + with a more civil demeanor, he bade the guest enter. + </p> + <p> + Bragadino was seated at breakfast beside the open window, and made as if + to rise; but Casanova begged him not to disturb himself. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Casanova,” exclaimed Bragadino, “How delighted I am to see you + once more! Who would have thought we should ever meet again?” He extended + both hands to the newcomer. + </p> + <p> + Casanova seized them as if to kiss them, but did not do so. He answered + the cordial greeting with warm words of thanks in the grandiloquent manner + usual to him on such occasions. Bragadino begged him to be seated, and + asked him whether he had breakfasted. Told that his guest was still + fasting, Bragadino rang for his servant and gave the necessary orders. As + soon as the man had gone, Bragadino expressed his gratification that + Casanova had so unreservedly accepted the Supreme Council’s offer. He + would certainly not suffer for having decided to devote himself to the + service of his country. Casanova responded by saying that he would deem + himself happy if he could but win the Council’s approval. + </p> + <p> + Such were Casanova’s words, while his thoughts ran on. He could no longer + detect in himself any feeling of hatred towards Bragadino. Nay, he + realized that he was rather sorry for this man advanced in years and grown + a trifle foolish, who sat facing him with a sparse white beard and + red-rimmed eyes, and whose skinny hand trembled as he held his cup. The + last time Casanova had seen him, Bragadino had probably been about as old + as Casanova was to-day; but even then, to Casanova, Bragadino had seemed + an old man. + </p> + <p> + The servant brought in Casanova’s breakfast. The guest needed little + pressing to induce him to make a hearty meal, for on the road he had had + no more than a few snacks. + </p> + <p> + “I have journeyed here from Mantua without pausing for a night’s rest, so + eager was I to show my readiness to serve the Council and to prove my + undying gratitude to my benefactor.”—This was his excuse for the + almost unmannerly greed with which he gulped down the steaming chocolate. + </p> + <p> + Through the window, from the Grand Canal and the lesser canals, rose the + manifold noises of Venetian life. All other sounds were dominated by the + monotonous shouts of the gondoliers. Somewhere close at hand, perhaps in + the opposite palace (was it not the Fogazzari palace?), a woman with a + fine soprano voice was practising; the singer was young—someone who + could not have been born at the time when Casanova escaped from The Leads. + </p> + <p> + He ate rolls and butter, eggs, cold meat, continually excusing himself for + his outrageous hunger, while Bragadino looked on well pleased. + </p> + <p> + “I do like young people to have a healthy appetite,” said the Senator. “As + far as I can remember, my dear Casanova, you have always been a good + trencherman!” He recalled to mind a meal which he and Casanova had enjoyed + together in the early days of their acquaintance. “Or rather, as now, I + sat looking on while you ate. I had not taken a long walk, as you had. It + was shortly after you had kicked that physician out of the house, the man + who had almost been the death of me with his perpetual bleedings.” + </p> + <p> + They went on talking of old times—when life had been better in + Venice than it was to-day. + </p> + <p> + “Not everywhere,” said Casanova, with a smiling allusion to The Leads. + </p> + <p> + Bragadino waved away the suggestion, as if this were not a suitable time + for a reference to such petty disagreeables. “Besides, you must know that + I did everything I could to save you from punishment, though unfortunately + my efforts proved unavailing. Of course, if in those days I had already + been a member of the Council of Ten!” + </p> + <p> + This broached the topic of political affairs. Warming to his theme, the + old man recovered much of the wit and liveliness of earlier days. He told + Casanova many remarkable details concerning the unfortunate tendencies + which had recently begun to affect some of the Venetian youth, and + concerning the dangerous intrigues of which infallible signs were now + becoming manifest. + </p> + <p> + Casanova was thus well posted for his work. He spent the day in the gloomy + chamber at the inn; and, simply as a means to secure calm after the recent + excitements, he passed the hours in arranging his papers, and in burning + those of which he wished to be rid. When evening fell, he made his way to + the Café Quadri in the Square of St. Mark, since this was supposed to be + the chief haunt of the freethinkers and revolutionists. Here he was + promptly recognized by an elderly musician who had at one time been + conductor of the orchestra in the San Samueli Theatre, where Casanova had + been a violinist thirty years before. By this old acquaintance, and + without any advances on his own part, he was introduced to the company. + Most of them were young men, and many of their names were those which + Bragadino had mentioned in the morning as belonging to persons of + suspicious character. + </p> + <p> + But the name of Casanova did not produce upon his new acquaintances the + effect which he felt himself entitled to anticipate. It was plain that + most of them knew nothing more of Casanova than that, a great many years + ago, he had for one reason or another, and perhaps for no reason at all, + been imprisoned in The Leads; and that, surmounting all possible dangers, + he had made his escape. The booklet wherein, some years earlier, he had + given so lively a description of his flight, had not indeed passed + unnoticed; but no one seemed to have read it with sufficient attention. + Casanova found it amusing to reflect that it lay within his power to help + everyone of these young gentlemen to a speedy personal experience of the + conditions of prison life in The Leads, and to a realization of the + difficulties of escape. He was far, however, from betraying the slightest + trace that he harbored so ill-natured an idea. On the contrary, he was + able to play the innocent and to adopt an amiable rôle. After his usual + fashion, he entertained the company by recounting all sorts of lively + adventures, describing them as experiences he had had during his last + journey from Rome to Venice. In substance these incidents were true + enough, but they all dated from fifteen or twenty years earlier. He + secured an eager and interested audience. + </p> + <p> + Another member of the company announced as a noteworthy item of news that + an officer of Mantua on a visit to a friend, a neighboring landowner, had + been murdered, and that the robbers had stripped him to the skin. The + story attracted no particular attention, for in those days such + occurrences were far from rare. Casanova resumed his narrative where it + had been interrupted, resumed it as if this Mantua affair concerned him + just as little as it concerned the rest of the company. In fact, being now + freed from a disquiet whose existence he had hardly been willing to admit + even to himself, his manner became brighter and bolder than ever. + </p> + <p> + It was past midnight when, after a light-hearted farewell, he walked alone + across the wide, empty square. The heavens were veiled in luminous mist. + He moved with the confident step of a sleep-walker. Without being really + conscious that he was on a path which he had not traversed for + five-and-twenty years, he found the way through tortuous alleys, between + dark houses, and over narrow bridges. At length he reached the dilapidated + inn, and had to knock repeatedly before the door was opened to him with a + slow unfriendliness. + </p> + <p> + When, a few minutes later, having but half undressed, he threw himself + upon his uneasy pallet, he was overwhelmed with a weariness amounting to + pain, while upon his lips was a bitter after-taste which seemed to + permeate his whole being. Thus, at the close of his long exile, did he + first woo sleep in the city to which he had so eagerly desired to return. + And here, when morning was about to break, the heavy and dreamless sleep + of exhaustion came to console the aging adventurer. + </p> + <p> + THE END <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + POSTFACE + </h2> + <p> + It is a historical fact that Casanova visited Voltaire at Ferney. There + is, however, no historical warrant for the account of the matter given in + the foregoing novel, and still less for the statement that Casanova wrote + a polemic against Voltaire. It is a historical fact, likewise, that + Casanova, when between fifty and sixty years of age, found it necessary to + enter Venetian service as a spy. Of this, and of many other doings of the + celebrated adventurer to which casual allusion is made in the course of + the novel, fuller and more accurate accounts will be found in Casanova’s + <i>Memoirs</i>. Speaking generally, nevertheless, <i>Casanova’s Homecoming</i> + is to be regarded throughout as a work of fiction. + </p> + <p> + A. S. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Casanova’s Homecoming, by Arthur Schnitzler + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CASANOVA’S HOMECOMING *** + +***** This file should be named 9310-h.htm or 9310-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/1/9310/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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