 Chapter 21 of the Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 2. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by C. M. Slosson. The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova, Volume 2. Pairs and Prison, by Giacomo Casanova. Translated by Arthur Markin. Episode 9. The Forsternan. Chapter 21. Separate my casino with M. M. and M. de Bruny, the French ambassador. A proposal from M. M. I accept it. Consequences. C. C. is unfaithful to me, and I cannot complain. I felt highly pleased with the supper-party I had arranged with M. M. and I ought to have been happy, yet I was not so, but once came the anxiety which was a torment to me—once. From my fatal habit of gambling, that passion was rooted in me to live into play were two identical things, and as I could not hold the bank I would go and punt at the redotto, where I lost my money morning and night. That state of things made me miserable. Perhaps someone will say to me, Why did you play, when there was no need of it, when you were in want of nothing, when you had all the money you could wish to satisfy your fancies? That would be a troublesome question, if I had not made it a law to tell the truth. So then, dear inquisitive reader, if I played with almost the certainty of losing, although no one, perhaps, was more sensible than I was to the losses made in gambling, it is because I had in me the evil spirit of avarice. It is because I loved prodigality, and because my heart bled when I found myself compelled to spend any money that I had not won at the gambling table. It is an ugly vice, dear reader, I do not deny it. However, all I can say is that, during the four days previous to the supper, I lost all the gold one for me by M.M. On the anxiously expected day I went to my casino, where at the appointed hour M.M. came with her friend, whom she introduced to me as soon as she had taken off his mask. I had an ardent wish, sir, said M. de Bernier to me, to renew acquaintance with you since I heard from Adam that we had known each other in Paris. With these words he looked me attentively, as people will do when they are trying to recollect a person whom they have lost sight of. I then told him that we had never spoken to one another, and that he had not seen enough of me to recollect my features now. I had the honour, I added, to dine with your excellency at M. de Mocchino's house. But you talked all the time with Marshall Keith, the Prussian ambassador, and I was not fortunate enough to attract your attention, as you were on the points of leaving Paris to return to Venice, you went away almost immediately after dinner, and I had never had the honour of seeing you since that time. Now I recollect you, he answered. And I remember asking whether you were not the secretary of the Embassy. But from this day we shall not forget each other again, for the mysteries which unite us are of a nature likely to establish a lasting intimacy between us. The amiable couple were not long before they felt thoroughly at ease, and we sat down to supper, of which of course I did the honours. The ambassador, a fine connoisseur of wines, found mine excellent and was delighted to hear that I had them from Count Algrotti, who was reputed as having the best cellar in Venice. My supper was delicate and abundant, and my manners towards my handsome guests, were those of a private individual receiving his sovereign and his mistress. I saw that M. M. was charmed with the respect which I treated her, and with my conversation which evidently interested the ambassador highly. The serious character of a first meeting did not prevent the utterance of witty jests, for in that respect M. de Bruny was a true Frenchman. I have travelled much, I have deeply studied men, individually and in a body, but I have never met with true sociability except in Frenchman. They alone know how to jest, and it is rare, delicate, refined jesting, which animates conversation and makes society charming. During our delightful supper Witt was never wanting, and the amiable M. M. led the conversation to the romantic combination which had given her occasion to know me. Naturally she proceeded to speak of my passion for C. C., and she gave such an interesting description of that young girl that the ambassador listened with as much attention as if he had never seen the object of it, but that was his part, for he was not aware that I had been informed of his having witnessed from his hiding place my silly interview with C. C., he told M. M. that he would have been delighted if she had abroad her young friend to supper with us. That would be running too great a risk, answered the cunning nun, but if you approved of it, she added looking at me, I can make you supper with her at my casino for we sleep in the same room. That offer surprised me much, but it was not the moment to shoe it, so I replied. It is impossible, M. to add anything to the pleasure of your society, yet I confess I should be pleased if you could contrive to do us that great favour. Well, I will think of it, but, observed the ambassador, if I am to be one of the party I think it would be right to apprise the young lady of it. It is not necessary, for I will write to her to agree to what other madame may propose to her. I will do so to-morrow. I begged the ambassador to prepare himself with a good stock of indulgence for a girl of fifteen, who had no experience of the world. In the course of the evening I related the history of Omar Fai, which greatly amused him. He entreated me to let him see her portrait. She informed me that she was still an inmate, at the part or so, where she continued to be the delight of Louis XV, to whom she had given a child. My guests left me after midnight, highly pleased, and I remained alone. The next morning, faithful to the promise I had made to my beautiful nun, I wrote to C.C., without informing her that there would be a fourth person at the projected supper, and having given my note to Laura, I repaired to Muran, where I found the following letter from M.M. I cannot sleep soundly my love, if I do not ease my conscious of any unpleasant weight. Perhaps you do not approve of the pocti caue with our young friend, and you may not have objected out of mere politeness. Tell me the truth, dearest, for should you not look forward to that meeting with pleasure, I can contrive to undo it, without implicating you in any way. Trust me for that. If, however, you have no objection to the party, it will take place as agreed. Believe me, I love your soul more than your heart. I mean then, your person, and you. Her fear was very natural, but out of shame-faceness, I did not like to retract. M.M. knew me well, and as a skillful tactician, she attacked my weak side. Here is my answer. I expected your letter, my best beloved, and you cannot doubt it, because as you know me thoroughly, you must be aware that I know you as well. Yes, I know your mind, and I know what idea you must entertain of me, because I have exposed to you all my weakness and irritability by my suffisms. I do penance for it, dearest, when I think that having raised your suspicions, your tenderness for me must have been weakened. Forget my visions, I beg, and be quite certain that for the future my soul will be in unison with yours. This upper must take place. It will be a pleasure for me, but let me confess that in accepting it, I have shuned myself more grateful than polite. C.C. is a novice, and I am not sorry to give her an opportunity of seeing the world, and what school could she learn better than yours. Therefore I recommend her to you, and you will please me much by continuing to shrew your care and friendship towards her, and by increasing, if possible, the sum of your goodness I fear that you may entice her to take the veil, and if she did I would never console myself. Your friend has quite captivated me. He is a superior man, and truly charming. Thus did I wittingly deprive myself of the power of drawing back, but I was able to realize the full force of the situation. I had no difficulty in guessing that the ambassador was in love with C.C., that he had confessed as much to M.M., who not being in a position to object to it, was compelled to shoo herself compliant, and to assist him in everything that could render his passion successful. She could certainly not do anything without my consent, and she had evidently considered the affair too delicate to venture upon proposing the party point blank to me. They had, no doubt, put their heads together, so that by bringing the conversation on that subject I should find myself compelled, for the sake of politeness and perhaps of my inward feelings to fall into the snare. The ambassador whose profession it was to carry on intrigue skillfully had successfully well, and I had taken the bait as he wished. There was nothing left for me but to put a good face on the matter. Not only so as not to shrew myself, a very silly being, but also in order not to prove myself shamefully ungrateful towards a man who had granted me unheard of privileges. Nevertheless, the consequence of it all was likely to be some coolness in my feelings towards both my mistresses. M.M. had become conscious of this after she had returned to the convent, and wishing to screen herself from all responsibility, she had lost no time in writing to me that she would cause the projected supper to be abandoned, in case I should disapprove of it. But she knew very well that I would not accept her offer. Self-love is a stronger passion even than jealousy. It is not allow a man who has some pretension to wit to shrew himself jealous, particularly towards a person who is not tainted by that base passion, and has proved it. The next day, having gone early to the casino, I found the ambassador already there, and he welcomed me in the most friendly manner. He told me that, if he had known me in Paris, he would have introduced me at court. Where I should certainly have made my fortune. Now when I think of that, I say to myself, that might have been the case. But of what good would it have been to me? Perhaps I should have fallen a victim of the revolution like so many others. Time to Bernie himself would have been one of those victims if fate had not allowed him to die in Rome in 1794. He died there unhappy, although wealthy, unless his feelings had undergone a complete change before his death, and I do not believe it. I asked him whether he liked Venice, and he answered that he could not do otherwise than like that city, in which he enjoyed excellent health, and in which, with plenty of money, life could be enjoyed better than anywhere else. But I do not expect, he added, to be allowed to keep this embassy very long. Be kind enough to let that remain between us. I do not wish to make M.M. unhappy. We were conversing in all confidence when M.M. arrived with her young friend, who showed her surprise at seeing another man with me. But I encouraged her by the most tender welcome, and she recovered all her composure when she saw the delight of the stranger at being answered by her in good French. It gave us both an opportunity of paying the warmest compliments to the mistress who had taught her so well. C.C. was truly charming. Her looks, bright and modest at the same time, seemed to say to me, You must belong to me. I wished to see her shine before her friends, and I contrived to conquered cowardly feeling of jealousy, which inspired of myself was beginning to get hold of me. I took care to make her talk on such subjects as I knew to be familiar to her. I developed her natural intelligence, and had the satisfaction of seeing her admired. Applauded, flattered, animated by the satisfaction she could read in my eyes, C.C. appeared a prodigy to M. de Bernis. And oh, what a contradiction of human heart I was pleased, yet I trembled lest he should fall in love with her. What an enigma! I was intent myself upon a work which would have caused me to murder any man who dared to undertake it. During the supper, which was worthy of a king, the ambassador treated C.C. with the most delicate attentions. Wit, cheerfulness, decent manners, attended our delightful party, and did not expel the gaiety and the merry jests, with which a Frenchman knows how to seize in every conversation. An observing critic who, without being acquainted with us, wished to guess whether love was present at her happy party, might have suspected, perhaps, but he certainly could not have affirmed, that it was there. M.M. treated the ambassador as a friend. She shooed no other feelings towards me than that of deep esteem, and she behaved to C.C. with the tender affection of his sister. M. de Bernis was kind, polite, and amiable with M.M., but he never ceased to take the greatest interest in every word uttered by C.C., who played her part to perfection, as she had only to follow her own nature, and that nature being beautiful C.C. could not fail to be most charming. We had passed five delightful hours, and the ambassador seemed more pleased even than any of us. M.M. had the air of a person satisfied with her own work, and I was playing the part of an approving spectator. C.C. looked highly pleased at having secured the general approbation. And there was perhaps a slight feeling of vanity in her arising from this special attention, which the ambassador had bestowed upon her. She looked at me smiling, and I could easily understand the language of her soul, by which she wished to tell me that she felt perfectly well the difference between the society in which she was then, and that in which her brother had given us such a disgusting specimen of his depravity. After midnight it was time to think of our departure, and M. de Bernis undertook all the complementary part, thanking M.M. for the most agreeable supper he had ever had in his life. He can strive to make her offer a repetition of it for two days afterwards, and he asked me for the sake of appearance whether I should not find as much delight in the second meeting as himself. Could he have any doubt of my answering, affirmatively? I believe not, for I had placed myself under the necessity of being compliant, all being agreed we parted company. The next day when I thought of that exemplary supper I had no difficulty in guessing what the ultimate result would be. The ambassador owed his great fortune entirely to the fair sex, because he possessed to the highest degree the art of coddling love, and as his nature was eminently voluptuous he found his advantage in it, because he knew how to call desires into existence, and this procured him enjoyments worthy of his delicate taste. I saw that he was deeply in love with C.C., and I was far from supposing him the man to be satisfied with looking at her lovely eyes. He certainly had some plan arranged, and M.M., in spite of all her honesty, was the prime manager of it. I knew that she would carried on with such delicate skill that I should not see any evidence of it, although I did not feel disposed to shoo more compliance than was strictly just. I foresaw that in the end I should be the dupe, and my poor C.C., the victim, of a cunningly contrived trick. I could not make up my mind either to consent with a good grace, or to throw obstacles in the way, and believe my dear little wife incapable of abandoning herself to anything likely to displease me. I allowed myself to be taken off my guard and to rely upon the difficulty of seducing her stupid calculation. Self love and shame-facedness prevented me from using my common sense. At all events that intrigued kept me in a state of fever because I was afraid of its consequences, and yet curiosity mastered me to such an extent that I was longing for the result. I knew very well that a second edition of this supper did not imply that the same play would be performed a second time, and I foresaw that the changes would be strongly marked, but I thought myself bound in order not to retract. I could not lead the intrigue, but I believed myself sufficiently skillful to baffle all their maneuverings. After all those considerations, however, considerations which enabled me to assume the countenance of false bravery, the experience of C.C., who in spite of all the knowledge she had lately acquired, was only a novice, caused me great anxiety. It was easy to abuse her natural wish to be polite, but that fear gave way very soon before the confidence I had in M.M.'s delicacy. I thought that having seen how I had spent six hours with the young girl, knowing for certainty that I intended to marry her, M.M. would never be guilty of such base treason. All these thoughts were the only of a weak and bashful jealousy, brought no conclusive decision. I had to follow the current and watch events. At the appointed time I repaired to the casino, where I found my two lovely friends sitting by the fire. Good evening, my two divinities, where is our charming Frenchman? He has not arrived yet, answered M.M., but he will doubtless soon be here. I took off my mask, and sitting between them, I gave them a thousand kisses, taking good care not to shoo any preference, and although I knew that they were aware of the unquestionable right I had upon both of them, I kept within the limits of the utmost decency. I congratulated them upon the mutual inclination they felt for each other, and I saw that they were pleased not to have to blush on that account. More than one hour was spent in gallant and friendly conversation, without my giving any satisfaction to my burning desires. M.M. attracted me more than C.C., but I would not for the world have offended the charming girl. M.M. was beginning to shoo some anxiety about the absence of M. de Bernis, when the doorkeeper brought her note from him. A courier he wrote, who arrived two hours ago, prevents my being happy to-night, for I am compelled to pass it in answering the dispatches I have received. I trust that you will forgive and pity me. May I hope that you will kindly grant me on Friday the pleasure of which I am so unfortunately deprived to-day. Let me know your answer by to-morrow. I wish ardently in that case to find you with the same guests, to whom I beg you to present my affectionate compliments. Well, said M.M., it is not his fault. We will sup without him. Will you come on Friday? Yes. With the greatest pleasure. But what is the matter with you, dear C.C., you look sad. Sad, no, unless it should be for the sake of my friend, for I have never seen a more polite and more obliging gentleman. Very well, dear, I am glad he has rendered you so sensible. What do you mean? Could anyone be insensible to his merit? Better still, but I agree with you. Only tell me if you love him. Well, even if I loved him, do you think I would go and tell him? Besides, I am certain that he loves my friend. So saying she sat down on M.M.'s knee, calling her her own little wife, and my two beauties began to bestow on one another caresses, which made me laugh heartily. Far from troubling their sport, I excited them, in order to enjoy a spectacle with which I had long been acquainted. M.M. took a book full of the most lascivious engravings, and said with a significant glance at my direction, Do you wish me to have a fire lighted in the alcove? I understood her and replied, You would oblige me, for the bed being large, we can all three sleep comfortably in it. I guess that she feared my suspecting the ambassador of enjoying from the mysterious closet, the sight of our amorous trio, and she wished to destroy that suspicion by her proposal. The table having been laid in front of the alcove supper was served, and we all did honour to it. We were all blessed with a devouring appetite, while M.M. was teaching her friend how to mix punch, I was admiring with delight the progress made in beauty by C.C. Your bosom, I said to her, must have become perfect during the last nine months. It is like mine answered M.M. would you like to see for yourself? Of course I did not refuse, M.M. amlaced her friend, who made no resistance, and performing afterwards the same office upon herself, and less than two minutes I was admiring four rivals contending for the golden apple, like the three goddesses, and which would have set to defiance the handsome Paris himself to adjudge the prize without injustice. Need I say would an ardent fire that ravishing sights sent coursing through my veins, I placed immediately on the table the academy de Dames, and pointed out, a certain position to M.M., who, understanding my wishes, said to C.C. Will you, darling, represent that group with me? A look of compliance was C.C.'s only answer. She was not yet inured to amorous pleasures as much as her lovely teacher. While I was laughing with delight the two friends were getting ready, and in a few minutes we were all three in bed, and in a state of nature. At first, satisfied with enjoying the sight of the barren contest of my two vacanallians, I was amused by their efforts, and by the contrast of colors, for one was dark in the other fair. But soon excited myself and consumed by all the fire of eluptuousness, I threw myself upon them, and I made them, one after the other, almost faint away from the excess of love and enjoyment. One out in say shade with pleasure I invited them to take some rest. We slept until we were awakened by the alarm, which I had taken care to set at four o'clock. We were certain of turning to good account the two hours we had then to spare before parting company, which we did at the dawn of day, humiliated at having to confess our exhaustion, but highly pleased with each other, and longing for a renewal of our delightful pleasures. The next day, however, when I came to think of that rather too lively night, during which, as is generally the case, love had routed reason, I felt some remorse. M.M. wanted to convince me of her love, and for that purpose she had combined all the virtues which I attracted to my own affection, namely honour, delicacy, and truth, but her temperament of which her mind was a slave cared her towards excess, and she prepared everything in order to give way to it, while she awaited the opportunity of making me her accomplice. She was coaxing love to make it compliant, and to succeed in mastering it, because her heart enslaved by her senses never reproached her. She likewise tried to deceive herself by endeavouring to forget that I might complain of having been surprised. She knew that to utter such a complaint I would have to acknowledge myself weaker, or less courageous than she was, and she relied upon my being ashamed to make such a confession. I had no doubt whatever that the absence of the ambassador had been arranged and concerted beforehand. I could see still further, for it seemed evident to me, that the two conspirators I had foreseen, that I would guess the artifice, and that feeling stung to the quick in spite of all my regrets, I would not shoe myself less generous than they had been themselves. The ambassador, having first procured me a delightful night, how could I refuse to let him enjoy a pleasant one? My friends had argued very well, for in spite of all the objections of my mind, I saw that I could not, on my side, put an obstacle in their way. C.C. was no impediment to them. They were certain of conquering her the moment she was not hindered by my presence. It rested entirely with M.M., who had perfect control over her. Poor girl! I saw her on the high road to debauchery. And it was my own doing. I sighed when I thought how little I had spared them in our last orgy. And what would become of me, if both of them should happen to be by my doing, in such a position as to compel to run away from the convent? I could imagine both of them thrown upon my hands, and the prospect was not particularly agreeable. I would be, and better, Stéroches. In the miserable contest between reason and prejudice, between nature and sentiment, I could not make up my mind either to go to the supper or to remain absent from it. If I go, I said to myself, that night will pass with perfect decency, but I shall prove myself very ridiculous jealous, ungrateful, and even wanting in common politeness if I remain absent. C.C. is lost, at least, in my estimation, for I feel that my love will no longer exist, and then good-bye to all idea of marriage with her. In the perplexity of mind, in which I found myself, I felt a want of something more certain than mere probabilities to base my decision upon, I put on my mask and repaired to the mansion of the French ambassador. I addressed myself to the gatekeeper, saying that I had a letter for Versailles, and that I would thank him to deliver it to the courier when he went back to France with his Excellencies' dispatches. But, sir, and to the men, we have not had a special courier for the last two months. What? Did not a special cabinet messenger arrive here last night? Then he must have come in through the garret window where down the chimney. From a word of an honest man, none entered through the gate. But the ambassador worked all night. That may be so, but not here, for his Excellency dying with the Spanish ambassador and did not return till very late. I had guessed rightly, I could no longer jete any doubt, it was all over, I could not draw back without shame. C. C. must resist if the game was detasteful to her. No violence would, of course, be offered to her. The die was cast. Towards evening I went to the casino of Muran and wrote a short note to M. M., requesting her to excuse me if some important business of M. de Bradeguine's prevented me from spending the night with her and with our two friends, to whom I set my compliments as well as my apologies. After that I returned to Venice, but on rather an unpleasant mood to divert myself I went to the gaming-table and lost all night. Two days afterwards, being certain that a letter from M. M. awaited me at Muran, I went over, and the doorkeeper handed me a parcel in which I found a note from my nun, and a letter from C. C., for everything was now uncommon between them. Here is C. C.'s letter. We were very sorry, dearest friend, when we heard that we should not have the happiness of seeing you. My dear M. M.'s friend came shortly afterwards, and when he read your note he likewise expressed his deep regret. We expected to have a very dull supper, but the witty sayings of that gentleman, and live and thus, and you cannot imagine of what follies we were guilty after partaking of some champagne punch. Our friend had become as gay as ourselves and we spent the night in trios, not very fatiguing, but very pleasant. I can assure you that the man deserves to be loved, but he must acknowledge himself in fear to you and everything. Believe me, dearest, I shall ever love you, and you must forever remain the master of my heart. In spite of all my vexation the letter made me laugh, but the note of M. M. was much more singular. Here are the contents of it. I am certain, my own beloved, that you told a story out of pure politeness, but you had guessed that I expected you to do so. You have made our friend a splendid present exchange for the one he made you when he did not object to his M. M. bestowing her heart upon you. You possessed that heart entirely, dearest, and you'd possess it under all circumstances, but how sweet it is to flavour the pleasures of love with the charms of friendship. I was sorry not to see you, but I knew that if you had come we would not have had such enjoyment from our friend. Notwithstanding all his wit is not exempt from so natural prejudices. As for C. C., her mind is now quite as free of them as her own, and I am glad she owes it to me. You must feel thankful for me having completed her education and for rending her in every way worthy of you. I wished you had been hiding in the closet where I am certain you would have spent some delightful hours. On Wednesday next I shall be yours, and all alone with you in your casino in Venice. Let me know whether you will be, at the usual hour, near the statue of the hero Colloioni, in case you should be prevented, name any other day. I had to answer those two letters in the same spirit in which they had been written, and in spite of all the bitter feelings which were the raging in my heart, my answers were to be as sweet as honey. I would in need of great courage, but I say to myself, Giorgia d'Andin, tu la voulue. I could not refuse to pay the penalty of my own deeds, and I have never been able to ascertain whether the shame I felt was what is called shame-faceness. It is a problem which I leave to others. In my letter to C.C. I had the courage, or the effrontery, to congratulate her and to encourage her to imitate M.M., the best model I said I could propose to her. I wrote to my nun that I would be punctual at the appointment near the statue, and admits many false compliments, which ought to have betrayed the true state of my heart. I told her that I admired the perfect education she had given to C.C., but that I congratulated myself upon having escaped the torture I should have suffered in the mysterious observatory, for I felt that I could not have borne it. On the Wednesday I was punctual at the rendezvous, and I had not to wait long for M.M., who came disguised in male attire. No theatre to-night, she said to me, let us go to Redotto to lose or double our money. She had six hundred sequins, and I had about one hundred. Fortune turned her back upon us, and we lost all. I expected that we would then leave the cutthroat place, but M.M., having left me for a minute, came back with three hundred sequins, which had been given to her by her friend, whom she knew where to find. That money given by love or by friendship brought her luck for a short time, and she soon went back all we had lost. But in our greediness or imprudence we continued to play, and finally we lost our last sequin. When we could play no longer, M.M. said to me, now that we need not fear thieves, let us go to our supper. That woman religious and a free thinker, a libertine and gambler, was wonderful in all she did. She had just lost five hundred pounds, and she was as completely at her ease if she had won a very large sum. It is true that the money she had just lost had not cost her much. As soon as we were alone she found me sad and low-spirited, although I tried hard not to appear so, but as for her always the same. She was handsome, brilliant, cheerful, and amorous. She thought she would bring back my spirits by giving me the fullest particulars of the night she had passed with C.C. and her friend, but she ought to have guessed that she was going the wrong way. That is very common error, it comes from the mind, because people imagine that what they feel themselves others must feel likewise. I was on thorns, and I tried everything to avoid that subject and to lead the conversation into a different channel, for the amorous particulars on which she was dwelling with her apparent delight vexed me greatly, and spite caused coldness. I was afraid of not playing my part very warmly in the amorous contest which she was at hand, when a lover doubted his own strength, he may almost always be sure that he will fail in his efforts. After supper we went to bed in the alcove where the beauty, the mental and physical charms, the grace and the ardour of my lovely nun cast all my bad temper to the winds, and soon restored me to my usual good spirits. The nights being shorter we spent two hours in the most delightful pleasures, and then parted, satisfied and full of love. Before leaving M.M. asked me to go to a casino, to take some money into play. Taking her for my partner, I did so. I took all the gold I found in playing in the martingale, and doubling my stakes continuously. I won every day during the remainder of the carnival. I was fortunate enough never to lose the sixth card, and if I had lost it, I should have been without money to play, for I had two thousand sequins on that card. I congratulated myself upon having increased the treasure of my dear mistress, who wrote to me that for the sake of civility, we ought to have supper in Patakali on Shrove Monday, I consented. That supper was the last I ever had in my life with CeCe. She was an excellent spirit, but I had made up my mind, and as I paid all my attention to M.M. CeCe imitated my example without difficulty, and she devoted herself wholly to her new lover. For seeing that she would, a little later, be all of us in each other's way, I begged M.M. to arrange everything so that we could be apart, and she contrived it marvellously well. After supper the ambassador proposed a game of Tharo, which our beauties did not know. He called for cards and placed one hundred Louis on the table before him. He dealt and took care to make CeCe win the whole of that sum. It was the best way to make her accept it as pin-money. The young girl dazzled by so much gold, and not knowing what to do with it, asked her friend to take care of it for her, until such a time as she should leave the convent to get married. When the game was over M.M. complained of a headache, and said that she would go to bed in the alcove. She asked me to come and lull her to CeCe. We thus left the new lovers free to be as gay as they choose. Six hours afterwards, when the allurem warned us that it was time to part, we found them asleep in each other's embrace. I had myself passed an amorous and quiet night pleased with M.M. and without giving one thought to CeCe. CHAPTER XXI. CHAPTER XXII. Monceur de Bernis goes away, leaving me the use of his Casino. His good advice. How I follow it. Peril of M.M. and myself. Mr. Murray, the English Ambassador. Sale of the Casino. And end of our meetings. Precious Illness of M.M. Zorsi and Kondumar. Tonine. Though the infidelities of CeCe made me look at her with other eyes than before, and I had now no intention of making her, the companion of my life, I could not help feeling that it had rested with me to stop her on the brink of the stream, and I therefore considered it my duty always to be her friend. If I had been more logical, the resolution I took with respect to her would doubtless have been of another kind. I should have said to myself, after seducing her, I myself have set the example of infidelity. I have bidden her to follow blindly the advice of her friend, although I knew that the advice and the example of M.M. would end in her ruin. I had insulted, in the most grievous manner, the delicacy of my mistress. And that before her very eyes. And after all this, how could I, ask a weak woman to do what a man, priding himself on his strength, would shrink from attempting? I should have stood, self-condemned, and have felt that it was my duty to remain the same to her. But flattering myself that I was overcoming mere prejudices, I was in fact that most degraded of slaves, he who uses his strength to crush the weak. The day after Shrove Tuesday, going to the Casino, of Moran, I found there a letter from M.M. who gave me two pieces of bad news, that C.C. had lost her mother, and that the poor girl was in despair, and that the lay sister, whose rayam was cured, had returned to her place. Thus C.C. was deprived of her friend at a time when she would have given her consolation of which she stood in great need. C.C., it seemed, had gone to share the rooms of her aunt, who, being very fond of her, had obtained permission from the superior. This circumstance would prevent the ambassador taking any more suppers with her, and I should have been delighted if Chance had put this obstacle in his path a few days sooner. All these misfortunes seemed of small account, compared with what I was afraid of, for C.C. might have to pay the price for her pleasures, and I so far regarded myself as the origin of her unhappiness as to feel bound never to abandon her, and this might have involved me in terrible complications. M.M. asked me to sup with her, and her lover on the following Monday. I went and found them both sad. He for the loss of his new mistress, and she because she no longer had a friend to make this occlusion of the convent pleasant. About midnight Monsur de Bemis left us, saying, in a melancholy manner, that he feared he should be obliged to pass several months in Vienna on important diplomatic business. Before parting we agreed to sup together every Friday. When we were alone M.M. told me that the ambassador would be obliged to me if, in the future, I would come to the casino two hours later. I understood that the good-natured and witty profligate had a very natural prejudice against indulging his amorous feelings except when he was certain of being alone. Monsur de Bemis came to all our suppers till he had left for Vienna, and always went away at midnight. He no longer made use of his hiding-place, partly because we had now only lay in the recess, and partly because, having had time to make love before my arrival, his desires were appeased. M.M. always found me amorous. My love, indeed, was even hotter than it had been. Since only seeing her once a week, and remaining faithful to her, I always had an abundant harvest to gather in. She sees letters which she brought to me softened me to tears, for she said that, after the loss of her mother, she could not count upon the friendship of any of her relations. She called me her sole friend, her only protector, and, in speaking of her grief, in not being able to see me any more whilst she remained in the convent, she begged me to remain faithful to her dear friend. On good Friday, when I got to the casino, I found the lovers overwhelmed with grief. Supper was served, but the ambassador, downcast and absent, neither ate nor spoke, and M.M. was like a statue that moves at intervals by some mechanism. Good sense and ordinary politeness prevented me from asking any questions, but, on M.M. leaving us together, M.D.Bemie told me that she was distressed, and with reason, since he was obliged to set out for Vienna fifteen days after Easter. I may tell you, confidentially, he added, that I believe I shall scarcely be able to return. But she must not be told, as she would be in despair. M.M. came back in a few minutes, but it was easy to see that she had been weeping. After some commonplace conversation, M.D.Bemie, seeing M.M. still low-spirited, said, Do not grieve, thus, sweetheart, go I must, but my return is a matter of equal certainty when I have finished the important business which summons me to Vienna. You will still have the casino. But, dearest, both friendship and prudence make me advise you not to come here in my absence, for after I have left Vienna, I cannot depend upon the faith of the gondoliers in my service, and I suspect that our friend here cannot flatter himself on his ability to get reliable ones. I may also tell you that I have strong reasons, for suspecting that our intercourse is known to the state inquisitors, who conceal their knowledge for political reasons. But I fancy the secret would soon come to light when I am no longer here, and when the nun who connives at your departure from the convent knows that it is no longer for me that you leave it. The only people whom I would trust are the housekeeper and his wife. I shall order them before I go to look upon our friend here as myself, and you can make your arrangements with them. I trust all will go well to my return, if you will only behave discreetly. I will write to you under the cover of the housekeeper. His wife will give you my letters as before, and in the same way you must reply. I must needs go, dearest one, but my heart is with you, and I leave you, till my return, in the hands of a friend whom I rejoice to have known. He loves you, he has a heart and a knowledge of the world, and he will not let you make any mistakes." M. M. was so affected by what the ambassador had said that she entreated us to let her go, as she wished to be alone and to lie down. As she went we agreed to sub together on the following Thursday. As soon as we were alone the ambassador impressed me with the absolute necessity of concealing from her that he was going to return no more. I am going, said he, to work in concert with the Austrian Cabinet on a treaty which will be the talk of Europe. I entreat you to write to me unreservedly and as a friend, and if you love our common mistress, have a care for her honor, and above all have the strength of mind to resist all projects which are certain to involve you in misfortune, and which will be equally fatal to both. You know what happened to Madame de Riva, a nun at the convent of Saint. She had to disappear after it became known that she was with child, and M. Froulai, my predecessor, went mad and died shortly after. J. J. Rousseau told me that he died of poison, but he is a visionary who sees the black side of everything. For my part I believe that he died of grief, and not being able to do anything for the unfortunate woman, who afterwards procured a dispensation from her vows from the Pope, and having got married is now living a padua without any position in society. Let the prudent and loyal friend master the lover. Go and see M. M., sometimes in the parlor of the convent, but not here, or the boatman will betray you. The knowledge which we both have, that the girls are in a satisfactory condition, is a great alleviation to my distress. But you must confess that you have been very imprudent. You have risked a terrible misfortune. Consider the position you would have been in, for I am sure you would not have abandoned her. She had an idea that the danger might be overcome by the means of drugs, but I convinced her that she was mistaken. In God's name be discreet in the future, and write to me fully, for I shall always be interested in her fate, both from duty and sentiment. We returned together to Venice, where we separated, and I passed the rest of the night in great distress. In the morning I wrote to the fair afflicted, and whilst endeavouring to console her to the best of my ability, I tried to impress on her the needon. I tried to impress on her the necessity for prudence, in the avoidance of such escapades as might eventually ruin us. Next day I received a reply, every word of which was spelt despair. Nature had given her a disposition which had become so intensified by indulgence that the cloister was unbearable to her, and I first saw the hard fights that I should have to undergo. We saw each other the Thursday after Easter, and I told her that I should not come to the Casino before midnight. She had had four hours to pass with her lover in tears and regrets, amongst which she had often cursed her cruel fate and the foolish resolution which had made her undertake the veil. We sub-together, and although the meal was a rich and delicate one, we did it little honour. When we had finished, the ambassador left, in treating me to remain, which I did, without thinking at all of the pleasures of the party of two. For love lighteth not his torch at the hearts of two lovers who are at full grief and sorrow. M. M. had grown thin, and her condition excited my pity, and shut out all other feelings. I held her a long time in my arms. Covering her with tender and affectionate kisses. But I showed no intention of consoling her by amusements in which her spirit could not have taken part. She said, before we parted, that I had shown myself a true lover, and she asked me to consider myself from henceforth as her only friend and protector. Next week, when we were together, as usual, M. M. called the housekeeper just before supper, and in his presence executed a deed on my behalf, which he made him sign. In this document he transferred to me all the rights over the contents of the casino, and charged him to consider me in all things as his master. We arranged to sub-together two days after, to make our farewells. But on my arrival I found by herself, standing up, and pale as death, or rather as white as a statue of Kareya Marble. He is gone, she said, and he leads me to your care, fatal being, whom perchance I shall see no more, whom I thought I loved but as a friend. Now you are lost to me, I see my mistake. Before I knew him I was not happy, but neither was I unhappy, as I am now. I passed the whole night beside her, striving, by the most delicate attentions, to soften her grief. But without success, her character, as abandoned to sorrow as to pleasure, was displayed to me during that long and weary night. She told me at what hour I should come to the convent parlor the next day, and on my arrival I was delighted to find her not quite so sad. She showed me a letter which her lover had written to her from Trevisa, and she then told me that I must come and see her twice a week, warning me that she would be accompanied sometimes by one nun and sometimes by another, for she foresaw that my visits would become the talk of the convent when it became known that I was the individual who used to go to mass at their church. She therefore told me to give in another name, to prevent see, seize, ant from becoming suspicious. Nonetheless, she added, this will not prevent my coming alone when I have any matter of importance to communicate to you. Promise me, sweetheart, to sup and clean at the casino at least once a week, and write to me a note each time by the housekeeper's wife. I made no difficulty in promising her that much. We thus passed a fortnight quietly enough, as she was happy again, and her amorous inclinations had returned in full force. About this time she gave me a piece of news which delighted me, namely that see, see, had no longer anything to fear. Full of amorous wishes, and having to be content with the teasing pleasure of seeing one another through a wretched grating, we racked our brains to find out some way to be alone together to do what we liked, without any risk. I am assured, she said, of the good faith of the gardener's sister. I can go out and come without fear of being seen, for the little door leading to the convent is not overlooked by any window. Indeed, it is thought to be walled up. Nobody can see me crossing the garden to the little stream, which is considered unnavigable. All we want is a one ord gondola, and I cannot believe that with the help of money you will be unable to find a boatman on whom we may rely. I understood from these expressions that she suspected me of becoming cold towards her, and this suspicion pierced me to the heart. Listen, said I, I will be the boatman myself. I will come to the quay, pass by the little door, and you shall lead me to your room, where I will pass the whole night with you, and the day, too, if you think you can hide me. That plan, she said, makes me shudder. I tremble at the danger to which you might be exposed. No, I should be too unfortunate if I were to be the cause of your misfortune. But, as you can row, come in the boat, let me know the time as closely as possible. The trustee woman will be on the watch, and I will not keep you for minutes waiting. I will get into the boat, and we will go to our beloved casino, and then we shall be happy without fearing anything. I will think it over. The way I took to satisfy her was as follows. I bought a small boat, and without telling her I went one night all by myself round the island to inspect the walls of the convent on the side of the lagoon. With some difficulty I made out a little door, which I judged to be the only one by which she could pass. But to go from there to the casino was no small matter, since one was obliged to fetch a wide course. With one oar I could not do the passage in less than a quarter of an hour, and that with much toil. Nevertheless, feeling sure of success, I told my pretty none of the plan, and never was news received with so much pleasure. We set our watches together, and fixed our meeting for the Friday following. As the day approached, an hour before sunset, I betook myself to St. Francis de la Vigne, where I kept my boat, and having it set in good order, and dressing myself as a boatman, I got upon the poop, and held a straight course for the little door, which opened the moment I arrived. M. M. came out, wrapped in a cloak, and someone, shutting the door after her, she got on board my frail bark, and in a quarter of an hour we were at the casino. M. M. made haste to go in, but I stayed to belay my boat with a lock and chain, against thieves, who passed the night pleasantly by stealing whatever they could lay their hands on. Although I had rode easily enough, I was in a bath of perspiration, which, however by no means hindered my charming mistress from falling on my neck. The pleasure of meeting seemed to challenge her love, and proud of what I had done, I enjoyed her transports. Not dreaming that I should have any occasion for a change of linen, I had bought none with me. But she soon found a cure for this defect. For having undressed me, she dried me lovingly, gave me one of her smocks, and I found myself dressed to admiration. We had been too long deprived of our amorous pleasures to think of taking supper before we had offered a plenty of sacrifice to love. We spent two hours in the sweetest of intoxications. Our bliss seemed more acute than at our first meeting. In spite of the fire which consumed me, in spite of the ardour of my mistress, I was sufficiently master of myself to disappoint her at the critical moment, for the picture which our friend had drawn was always before my eyes. M. M. Joyous and wanton, having me for the first time in the character of Boltman, augmented our delights by her amorous caprices. But it was useless for her to try and add fuel to my flame, since I loved her better than myself. CHAPTER XXII PARIS AND PRISON THE NIGHT was short, for she was obliged to return at three in the morning, and it struck one as we sat down at the table. As the climax of ill luck, a storm, came on whilst we were at supper. Our hair stood on end. Our only hope was founded in the nature of these squalls, which seldom lasts more than an hour. We were in hopes also that it would not leave behind too strong a wind, as it is sometimes the case, for though I was strong and sturdy, I was far from having the skill or experience of a professional Boltman. In less than half an hour the storm became violent, one flash of lightning followed another, the thunder roared, and the wind grew to a gale. Yet, after a heavy rain, and less than an hour, the sky cleared. But there was no moon, it being the day after the ascension. Two o'clock struck, I put my head out the window, but perceived that a contrary gale is blowing. MA TIRANO DEL MAR LIBETIO RESTA This libetio, which Ariosto calls, and with good reason the tyrant of the sea, is the southwesterly wind, which is commonly called garbine, in Venus. I said nothing, but I was frightened. I told my sweetheart that we must need sacrifice an hour of pleasure, since prudence would have it so. Let us set out forthwith, for if the gale gets stronger I shall not be able to double the island. She saw my advice was not to be questioned, and taking the key of her strong box, whence she desired to get some money, she was delighted to find her store increased fourfold. She thanked me for having told her nothing about it, assuring me that she would have of me nothing but my heart, and following me she got into my boat, and laid down at full length, so as not to hinder its motion. I got upon the poop, as full as fear as courage, and in five minutes I had the good luck to double the point. But there it was that the tyrant was waiting for me, and it was not long before I felt that my strength would not outlast that of the winds. I rowed with all my strength, but all I could do was prevent my boat from going back. For half an hour I was in this pitiful state, and I felt my strength failing without daring to say a word. I was out of breath, but could not rest a moment, since the least relaxation would have let the boat slip a far way back, and this would have been a distance hard to recover. M. M. Lay still and silent, for she perceived that I had no breath, wherewith to answer her. I began to give up ourselves as lost. At that instant I saw in the distance a bark coming swiftly towards us. What a piece of luck! I waited till she called up, for if I had not done so I should not have been able to make myself heard. But as soon as I saw her at my left hand, twelve feet off, I shouted, Help! I will give two sequins! The lowered sail came towards me, and on their hailing me I asked for a man to take us to the opposite point of the island. They asked a sequin in advance. I gave it to them and promised the other to the man who would get on my poop and help me to make the point. In less than ten minutes we were opposite to the little stream leading to the convent, but the secret of it was too dear to be hazard. So as soon as we reached the point I paid my preserver and sent him back. Henceforth the wind was in our favour, and we got to the little door where M. M. landed, saying to me, Go and sleep in the casino. I thought her advice wise, and I followed it, and having the wind behind me I got to the casino without trouble, and slept till broad day. As soon as I had risen I wrote to my dear mistress that I was well, and that we should see each other at the grading. Having taken my boat back to St. Francis I put on my mask and went to Liston. In the morning M. M. came to the grading by herself, and we made all such observances as our adventures of the night would be likely to suggest, but in place of deciding to follow the advice which Prudence should have given us, namely not to expose ourselves to danger for the future, we thought ourselves extremely prudent in resolving that if we were again threatened by a storm we should set out as soon as we saw it rising. All the same we had to confess that if Chance had not thrown the bark in our way we should have been obliged to return to the casino, for M. M. could not have got to the convent, and how could she have entered its walls again? I should have been forced to leave Venice with her, and that forever. My life would have been finally and irretrievably linked with hers, and without doubt the various adventures which, at the age of seventy-two years impel me to write these memoirs, would never have taken place. For the next three months we continued to meet each other once a week, always amorous, and never disturbed by the slightest accidents. M. M. could not resist giving the ambassador a full account of our adventures, and I promised to write to him, and always to write the whole truth. He replied by congratulating us on our good fortune, but he prophesied inevitable disaster if we had not the Prudence to stop our intercourse. Mr. Murray, the English ambassador, a witty and handsome man, and a great amateur at the fair, sex, wine, and good cheer, then kept the fair and killer, who introduced me to him. This fine fellow became my friend in much the same way as M. de Benis, the only difference being that the Frenchmen liked to look on while the Englishmen preferred to give the show. I was never unwelcome at their amorous battles, and the voluptuous and killer was delighted to have me for a witness. I never gave them the pleasure of mingling in the strife. I loved M. M. But I should have vowed that my fidelity to her was not entirely dependent on my love. Though and killer was handsome, she inspired me with repugnance, for she was always horse and complained of a sharp pain in the throat, and though her lover kept well, I was afraid of her, and not without cause, for the disease which ended the days of François I of France brought her to the grave in the following autumn. A quarter of an hour before she died, her brave Britain, yielding to the lascivious requests of this new Masalina, offered in my presence the last sacrifice in spite of a large sore on her face which made her look hideous. This truly heroic action was known all over the town, and it was Murray himself who made it known, citing me as his witness. This famous courtesan, whose beauty was justly celebrated, feeling herself eaten away by an internal disease, promised to give a hundred Louis to a doctor named Luceci, who by dint of mercury undertook to cure her. But Anchilla specified on the agreement that she was not to pay the aforesaid sum to Luceci had offered her with an amorous sacrifice. The doctor, having done his business as well as he could, wished to be paid without submitting to the conditions of the treaty. But Anchilla held her ground, and the matter was brought before a magistrate. In England, where all agreements are binding, Anchilla would have won her case, but at Venice she lost it. The judge in giving sentence said a condition criminal per se, not fulfilled, did not invalidate an agreement, a sentence abounding in wisdom, especially in this instance. Two months before this woman had become disgusting, my friend, Monsieur Memo, afterwards procurator, asked me to take him to her house. In the height of the conversation, what should come but a gondola, and we saw Count Rosenberg, the ambassador from Vienna, getting out of it. Monsieur Memo was thunderstruck, for a Venetian noble conversing with a foreign ambassador becomes guilty of treason to the state, and ran in hot haste from Anchilla's room. I, after him, but on the stair he met the ambassador, who, seeing his distressed, burst into a laugh and passed on. I got directly into Monsieur Memo's gondola, and we went forthwith to Monsieur Cavalli, secretary to the state inquisitors. Monsieur Memo could have taken no better course to avoid the troublesome consequences which this fatal meeting might have had, and he was very glad that I was with him to testify to his innocence, and to the harmlessness of the occurrence. Monsieur Cavalli received Monsieur Memo with a smile, and told him that he did well to come to confession without wasting any time. Monsieur Memo, much astonished at this reception, told him the brief history of the meeting, and the secretary replied, with a grave error, that he had no doubt as to the truth of his story, as the circumstances were in perfect correspondence with what he knew of the matter. We came away extremely puzzled at the secretary's reply, and discussed the subject for some time, but then we came to the conclusion that Monsieur Cavalli could have come to know positive knowledge of the matter before we came, and that he only spoke as he did from the instinct of an inquisitor, who likes it to be understood that nothing is hid from him for a moment. After the death of Vankilla, Mr. Murray remained without a titular mistress, but, fluttering about like a butterfly, he had, one after another, the prettiest girls in Venice. This good-natured Epicurean set out for Constantinople two years later, and for twenty years the ambassador of the Court of Saint James at the Sublime Port. He returned to Venice in 1778, with the intention of ending his days there, far from the affairs of State. But he died in the Lazaretto eight days before the completion of his quarantine. At play Fortune continued to favour me. My commerce with M. M. could not be discovered now that I was my own waterman, and the nuns who were in, in the secret, were too deeply involved not to keep it. I led them a merry life, but I foresaw that as soon as Mr. de Bernis decided to let M. M. know that he would not return to Venice, he would recall his people, and we should then have the casino no longer. I knew besides that when the rough season came on, it would be impossible for me to continue our voyages. The first Monday in October, when the theatres are opened and the masks may be worn, I went to St. Francis to get my boat, and thence to Moran for my mistress, afterwards making for the casino. The nights were now long enough for us to have ample time for enjoyment, so we began by making an excellent supper, and then devoted ourselves to the worship of love and sleep. Suddenly in the midst of a moment of ecstasy I heard a noise in the direction of the canal, which aroused my suspicions and I rushed to the window. What was my astonishment and anger to see a large boat taking mine in tow? Nevertheless without giving way to my passion I shouted to the robbers that I would give them temp sequence if they would be kind enough to return me my boat. A shout of laughter was all the reply they made, and not believing what I said they continued their course. What was I to do? I dared not cry. Stop thief! Not being endued with the power of walking on the water dry-footed, I could not give chase to the robbers. I was in the utmost distressed, and for the moment M. M. showed signs of terror, for she did not see how I could remedy this disaster. I addressed myself hastily, giving no more thoughts to love, my only comfort being that I still had two hours to get the indispensable boat should it cost me a hundred sequins. I should have been in no perplexity if I had been able to take one, but the gondoliers would infallibly make proclamation over the whole of Moran that they had taken a nun to such a convent, and all would have been lost. The only way then that was open to me was either to buy a boat or to steal one. I put my pistols and dagger in my pocket, took some money and with an oar on my shoulder set out. The robbers had filed the chain of my boat with a silent file. I guess I could not do. I could only reckon on having the good luck to find a boat moored with cords. Coming to the large bridge I saw boats and despair, but there were people on the quay, and I could not risk taking one. Seeing a tavern open at the end of the quay, I ran like a madman and asked if there were any boatmen there, and the drawer told me that there were two, but that they were drunk. I came up to them and said, Who will take me to Venice for A.D. Sioux? I, and I, and they began to quarrel as to who should go. I quieted them by giving Forty Sioux to the more drunken of the two, and I went out with the other. As soon as we were on my way I said, You are too drunk to take me, lend me your boat, and I will give it back to you tomorrow. I don't know you. I will deposit ten sequins, but your boat is not worth that. Will that be your surety? He took me back to the tavern, and the drawer went bail for him. Well pleased I took my man to the boat, and having furnished it with a second oar and two poles he went away, chuckling and having made a good bargain, while I was as glad to have had the worst of it. I had been an hour away, and on entering the casino found my dear M, M, in an agony, but as soon as she saw my beaming face all laughter came back to hers. I took her to the convent, and then went to St. Francis, where the keeper of the boat-house looked as if he thought me a fool, when I told him that I had trucked away my boat for the one I had with me. I put on my mask, and went, forthwith, to my lodging and to bed, for these annoyances had been too much for me. About this time my destiny made me acquainted with a nobleman named Mark Antony Zorsi, a man of parts, and famous for his skill in writing verses in the Venetian dialect. Zorsi, who was very fond of the play, and desired to offer a sacrifice to Thalia, wrote a comedy which the audience took the liberty of hissing, but having persuaded himself that his peace only failed through the conspiracies of the Abbey Chiari, who wrote for the theater of San Angelo, he declared open war against the Abbey's plays. I felt no reluctance whatsoever to visit M. Zorsi, for he possessed an excellent cook and a charming wife. He knew that I did not care for Chiari as an author, and M. Zorsi had people in his pay who, without pity, rhyme or reason, hissed all the compositions of the ecclesiastical playwright. My part was to criticize them in hammer verses, a kind of dog roll, then much in fashion, and Zorsi took care to distribute my lucubrations far and wide. These maneuvers made me a powerful enemy in the person of M. Zorsi, who liked me none the better for having all the appearance of having been in high favor with M. Zorsi, to whom before my appearance he had paid diligent court. This M. Zorsi was to be excused for not caring for me, for having a large share in the St. Angelo Theater, the failure of the Abbey's pieces was a loss to him, as the boxes had to be let at a very low rent, and all men are governed by interested motives. This M. Condomere was sixty years old, but with all the greenness of youth he was still fond of women, gaming and money, and he was, in fact, a moneylender. But he knew how to pass for a saint, as he took care to go to mass every morning at St. Mark's, and never omitted to shed tears before the crucifix. The following year he was made a counselor, and in that capacity he was for eight months a state inquisitor. Having thus obtained this diabolically eminent, or eminently diabolical position, he had not much difficulty in showing his colleagues the necessity of putting me under the leads as a disturber of the peace of the Republic. In the beginning of the winter the astounding news of the treaty between France and Austria was divulged, a treaty by which the political balance was entirely readjusted, and which was received with incredulity by the powers. The whole of Italy had reason to rejoice, for the treaty guarded that fair land from becoming the theater of war on the slightest difference which might arise between the two powers. The astonish the most acute was that this wonderful treaty was conceived and carried out by a young ambassador, who had hitherto been famed only as a wit. The first foundations had been laid in 1750 by Madame de Pompadour, Count Keynes, who was created a prince, and M. Le Abbe de Bernis, who was not known till the following year when the king made him ambassador to Venice. The House of Bourbon and the House of Habsburg had been foes for two hundred and forty years when this famous treaty was concluded. But it only lasted for forty years, and it is not likely that any treaty will last longer between the two courts, so essentially opposed to one another. The Abbe de Bernis was created minister for foreign affairs some time after the ratification of the treaty. Three years after he re-established the parliament, became a cardinal, was disgraced, and finally sent to Rome where he died. Mors Ultimo Linia Runelem est. Affairs fell out, as I had foreseen, for nine months after he left Venice he conveyed to M. M. the news of his recall, though he did it in the most delicate manner. Nevertheless M. M. felt the blow so severely that she would very possibly have succumbed had I not been preparing her for it in every way I could think of. Monsieur de Bernis sent me all instructions. He directed all the contents of the casino should be sold, and the proceeds given to M. M., with the exception of the books and prints which the housekeeper was ordered to bring to Paris. It was a nice brevery for a cardinal, but, wood to God, they had nothing worse. Wils M. M. abandoned herself to grief. I carried out the orders of Monsieur de Bernis, and by the middle of January we no longer had a casino. She kept by her two thousand sequins and her pearls, intending to sell them later on to buy herself an annuity. We were now only able to see each other at the grating, and soon, worn with grief, she fell dangerously ill, and on the second of February I recognized in her features the symptoms of approaching death. She sent me her jewel-case, with all her diamonds, and nearly all her money. All the scandalous books she possessed, and all her letters, telling me that if she did not die I was to return her the whole, but that all belonged to me, if, as she thought, she should succumb to the disease. Siasho told me that C. C. was aware of her state, and asked me to take pity on her and to write to her, as my letters were her only comfort, and that she hoped to have strength to read them till her last breath. I burst into tears, for I loved her passionately, and I promised her to come, and live in Moran till she recovered her health. Having placed the property in a gondola, I went to the bragedon palace to deposit it, and then returned to Moran to get Laura to find me a furnished room where I could live as I liked. I know of a good room with meals provided, she said. You will be quite comfortable, and we will get it cheaply, and if you like to pay in advance you need not even say who you are, the old man to whom the house belongs lives on the ground floor. He will give you all the keys, and if you like you need see no one. She gave me the address, and I went there on the spot, and I found everything to my liking. I paid a month in advance, and the thing was done. It was a little house at the end of a blind alley, a budding, on the canal. I returned to Laura's house to tell her that I wanted a servant to get my food, and to make my bed, and she promised to get me one by the next day. Having set all in order for my new lodging, I returned to Venice and packed my mails as if I were going to make a long journey. After supper I took leave of Monsieur de Bragedon and of his two friends, telling them that I was going to be away for several weeks on important business. Next day, going to my new room, I was surprised to find their tonine, Laura's daughter, a pretty girl, not much more than fifteen years old, who told me with a blush, but with more spirit than I gave her credit for, that she would serve me as well as her mother would have done. I was in too much distress to thank Laura for this pretty present, and I even determined that her daughter should not stay in my service. We know how much such resolutions are commonly worth. In the meantime I was kind to the girl. I am sure, I said, of your good will, but I must talk to your mother. I must be alone. I added, as I have to write all day, I shall not take anything till the evening. She then gave me a letter, begging pardon for not having given it to me sooner. You must never forget to deliver messages, I said, for if you had waited any longer before bringing me this letter it might have had the most serious consequences. She blushed, begged pardon, and went out of the room. The letter was from C, C, who told me that her friend was in bed, and that the doctor had pronounced her illness to be fever. I passed the rest of the day in putting my room in order, and in writing to C, C, and her suffering friend. Towards evening Tonine brought in the candles and told me that my supper was ready. Follow me, I said, seeing that she had only laid supper for one, a pleasing proof of her modesty. I told her to get another knife and fork, as I wished her always to take her meals with me. I can give no account of my motives. I only wished to be kind to her, and I did everything in good faith. Bye and bye, reader. We shall see whether this is not one of the devices, by which the devil compasses his ends. Not having any appetite I ate little, but I thought everything good, with the exception of the wine, but Tonine promised to get some better by the next day, and when supper was over she went to sleep in the anti-room. After sealing my letters, wishing to know whether the outer door was locked, I went out and saw Tonine in bed, sleeping peacefully, or pretending to do so. I might have suspected her thoughts, but I have never been in a similar situation, and I measured the extremity of my grief by the indifference with which I looked at this girl. She was pretty, but for all that I felt that neither she nor I ran any risk. Next day, waking very early, I called her, and she came in neatly dressed. I gave her my letter to C, C, which enclosed the letter to M, M, telling her to take it to her mother, and then return to make my coffee. I shall die in it noon, Tonine, I said. Take care to get what is necessary in good time. Sir, I prepared yesterday's supper myself, and if you like I can cook all your meals. I am satisfied with your abilities. Go on, and here is the sequin for the expenses. I still have a hundred and twenty sous remaining from the one you gave me yesterday, and that will be enough. No, they are for yourself, and I shall give you as much every day. Her delight was so great that I could not prevent her covering my hand with kisses. I took care to draw it back, and not to kiss her in return, for I felt as if I should be obliged to laugh, and this would have dishonored my grief. The next day passed like the first. Tonine was glad that I said no more about speaking to her mother, and drew the conclusion that her services were agreeable to me. Feeling tired and weak, and fearing that I should not wake early enough to send the letter to the convent, but not wishing to rouse Tonine if she were asleep, I called her softly. She rose immediately, and came to my room, with nothing on, but a slight petticoat. Pretending to see nothing, I gave her my letter, and told her to take it to her mother in the morning before she came into my room. She went out, saying that my instructions should be carried out, but as soon as she was gone I could not resist saying to myself that she was very pretty, and I felt both sad and ashamed at the reflection that this girl could very easily console me. I hugged my grief, and I determined to separate myself from a being who made me forget it. In the morning, I said, I would tell Laura to get me something less seducing. But the night brought counsel, and in the morning I put on the armour of Sophism, telling myself that my weakness was no fault of the girls, and that it would therefore be unjust to punish her for it. We shall see, dear reader, how all this ended.