 CHAPTER XVIII. Visit to the Convent and Conversation with M. M.—a letter from her and my answer. Another interview at the Casino of Murrin in the presence of her lover. According to my promise I went to see M. M. two days afterwards, but as soon as she came to the parlor she told me that her lover had said he was coming and that she expected him every minute, and that she would be glad to see me the next day. I took leave of her, but near the bridge I saw a man, rather badly masked, coming out of a gondola. I looked at the gondolier, and I recognized him as being in the service of the French ambassador. It is he, I said to myself, and without appearing to observe him I watched him enter the convent. I had no longer any doubt as to his identity, and I returned to Venice delighted at having made the discovery, but I made it my mind not to say anything to my mistress. I saw her on the following day, and we had a long conversation together, which I am now going to relate. My friend, she said to me, came yesterday, in order to bid farewell to me until the Christmas holidays. He is going to Padua, but everything has been arranged so that we can sup at his casino whenever we wish. Why not in Venice? He has begged me not to go there during his absence. He is wise and prudent. I could not refuse his request. You are quite right. When shall we sup together? Next Sunday, if you like. If I like is not the right expression, for I always like. On Sunday, then, I will go to the casino towards Nightfall and wait for you with a book. Have you told your friend that you were not very uncomfortable in my small palace? He knows all about it, but dearest, he is afraid of one thing. He fears a certain fatal plumpness. On my life, I have never thought of that, but my darling, do you not run the same risk with him? No, it is impossible. I understand you. Then we must be very prudent for the future. I believe that, nine days before Christmas, the mask is no longer allowed, and then I shall have to go to your casino by water. Otherwise, I might easily be recognized by the same spy who has already followed me once. Yes, that idea proves your prudence, and I can easily show you the place. I hope you will be able to come also during Lent, although we are told that, at that time, God wishes us to mortify our senses. Is it not strange that there is a time during which God wants us to amuse ourselves almost a frenzy, and another during which, in order to please him, we must live in complete abstinence? What is there in common between a yearly observance and the deity, and how can the action of the creature have any influence over the creator, whom my reason cannot conceive otherwise than independent? It seems to me that if God had created man with the power of offending him, man would be right in doing everything that is forbidden to him, because the deficiencies of his organization would be the work of the creator himself. How can we imagine God grieved during Lent? My beloved one, you reasoned beautifully, but will you tell me where you have managed in a convent to pass the Rubicon? Yes, my friend has given me some good books which I have read with deep attention, and the light of truth has dispelled the darkness which blinded my eyes. I can assure you that, when I look in my own heart, I find myself more fortunate in having met with a person who has brought light to my mind than miserable at having taken the veil. For the greatest happiness must certainly consist in living and in dying peacefully, a happiness which can hardly be obtained by listening to all the idle talk with which the priests puzzle our brains. I am of your opinion, but I admire you for it ought to be the work of more than a few months to bring light to a mind prejudiced as yours was. There is no doubt that I should have seen light much sooner if I had not labored under so many prejudices. There was in my mind a curtain dividing truth from error, and reason alone could draw it aside, but that poor reason I have been taught to fear it to repulse it as if its bright flame would have devoured instead of enlighten me. The moment it was proved to me that a reasonable being ought to be guided only by his own inductions, I acknowledged the sway of reason and the mist which hid truth from me was dispelled. The evidence of truth shown before my eyes, nonsensical trifles disappeared, and I have no fear of their resuming their influence over my mind. For every day it is getting stronger, and I may say that I only began to love God when my mind was disabused of priestly superstitions concerning him. I congratulate you. You have been more fortunate than I, for you have made more progress in one year than I have made in ten. Then you did not begin by reading the writings of Lord Bollingbroke? Five or six months ago I was reading La Sagesse by Chiron, and somehow or other my confessor heard of it. When I went to him for confession he took upon himself to tell me to give up reading that book. I answered that my conscience did not reproach me and that I could not obey him. In that case, he replied, I will not give you absolution. That will not prevent me from taking the communion, I said. This made him angry and in order to know what he ought to do he applied to Bishop Diado. His eminence came to see me and told me that I ought to be guided by my confessor. I answered that we had mutual duties to perform and that the mission of a priest in the confessional was to listen to me, to impose a reasonable penance, and to give me absolution, that he had not even the right of offering me any advice if I did not ask for it. I added that the confessor being bound to avoid scandal, if he dared to refuse me the absolution, which of course he could do, I would all the same go to the altar with the other nuns. The bishop seeing that he was at his wit's end told the priest to abandon me to my conscience. But that was not satisfactory to me and my lover obtained a brief from the pope authorizing me to go to confession to any priest I like. All the sisters are jealous of the privilege, but I have availed myself of it only once for the sake of establishing a precedence and of strengthening the right by the fact, for it is not worth the trouble. I always confess to the same priest, and he has no difficulty in giving me absolution, for I only tell him what I like. And for the rest you absolve yourself? I confess to God, who alone can know my thoughts and judge the degree of merit or of demerit to be attached to my actions. Our conversation showed me that my lovely friend was what is called a free thinker, but I was not astonished at it, because she felt a greater need of peace for her conscience than of gratification for her senses. On the Sunday after dinner I took a two-ord gondola and went round the island of Murn to reconnoiter the shore and to discover the small door through which my mistress escaped from the convent. I lost my trouble and my time, for I did not become acquainted with the shore till the octave of Christmas and with the small door six months afterwards. I shall mention the circumstance in its proper place. As soon as it was time I repaired to the temple and while I was waiting for the idol I amused myself in examining the books of a small library in the Boudoir. They were not numerous, but they were well chosen and worthy of the place. I found there everything that has been written against religion and all the works of the most voluptuous writers on pleasure. Attractive books, the incendiary style of which compels the reader to seek the reality of the image they represent. Several folios, richly bound, contain nothing but erotic engravings. Their principal merit consisted much more in the beauty of the designs, in the finish of the work, than in the lubricity of the positions. I found amongst them the prints of the Portier des Chartres, published in England, the engravings of Mirceus, of Aloysia Seguia Toletana, and others, all very beautifully done. A great many small pictures covered the walls of the Boudoir and they were all masterpieces in the same style as the engravings. I had spent an hour in examining all these works of art, the sight of which had excited me in the most irresistible manner when I saw my beautiful mistress enter the room, dressed as a nun. Her appearance was not likely to act as a sedative and therefore without losing any time in compliments I said to her, you will arrive most opportunely, all these erotic pictures have fired my imagination, and it is in your garb of a saint that you must administer the remedy that my love requires. Let me put on another dress, darling, it will not take more than five minutes. Five minutes will complete my happiness and then you can attend to your metamorphosis. But let me take off these woollen robes which I dislike. No, I want you to receive the homage of my love in the same dress which you had on when you gave birth to it. She uttered in the humblest manner a fiat voluntus tua accompanied by the most voluptuous smile and sank on the sofa. For one instant we forgot all the world besides. After that delightful ecstasy I assisted her to undress and a simple gown of Indian muslin soon metamorphosed my lovely nun into a beautiful nymph. After an excellent supper we agreed not to meet again till the first day of the octave. She gave me the key of the gate on the shore and told me that a blue ribbon attached to the window over the door would point it out by day so as to prevent my making a mistake at night. I made her very happy by telling her that I would come and reside in her casino until the return of her friend. During the ten days that I remained there I saw her four times and I convinced her that I lived only for her. During my stay in the casino I amused myself in reading, in writing to C.C., but my love for her had become a calm affection. The lines which interested me most in her letters were those in which she mentioned her friend. She often blamed me for not having cultivated the acquaintance of M.M., and my answer was that I had not done so for fear of being known. I always insisted upon the necessity of discretion. I do not believe in the possibility of equal love being bestowed upon two persons at the same time, nor do I believe it possible to keep love to a high degree of intensity if you give it either too much food or none at all. That which maintained my passion for M.M. in a state of great vigor was that I could never possess her without running the risk of losing her. It is impossible, I said to her once, that some time or other one of the nuns should not want to speak to you when you are absent. No, she answered, that cannot happen, because there is nothing more religiously respected in a convent than the right of a nun to deny herself, even to the abyss. My fire is the only circumstance I have to fear, because in that case there would be general uproar and confusion, and it would not appear natural that a nun should remain quietly locked up in her cell in the midst of such danger. My escape would then be discovered. I have contrived to gain over the lay sister and the gardener as well as another nun, and that miracle was performed by my cunning, assisted by my lover's gold. He answers for the fidelity of the cook and his wife who take care of the casino. He has likewise every confidence in the two gondoliers, although one of them is sure to be a spy of the state inquisitors. On Christmas Eve she announced the return of her lover, and she told him that on St. Stephen's Day she would go with him to the opera and that they would afterward spend the night together. I shall expect you, my beloved one, she added, on the last day of the year, and here is a letter which I beg you not to read till you get home. As I had to move in order to make room for her lover, I packed my things early in the morning, and bidding farewell to a place in which during ten days I had enjoyed so many delights, I returned to the Brageden Palace where I read the following letter. You have somewhat offended me, my own darling, by telling me, respecting the mystery which I am bound to keep on the subject of my lover, that, satisfied to possess my heart, you left me mistress of my mind. That division of the heart and of the mind appears to me a pure sophism, and if it does not strike you as such you must admit that you do not love me wholly, for I cannot exist without mind, and you cannot cherish my heart if it does not agree with my mind. If your love cannot accept a different state of things, it does not excel in delicacy. However, as some circumstance might occur in which you might accuse me of not having acted towards you with all the sincerity that true love inspires, and that it has a right to demand, I have made up my mind to confine to you a secret which concerns my friend, although I am aware that he relies entirely upon my discretion. I shall certainly be guilty of a breach of confidence, but you will not love me less for it, because compelled to choose between you two and to deceive either one or the other, love has conquered friendship. Do not punish me for it, for it has not been done blindly, and you will, I trust, consider the reasons which have caused the scale to weigh down in your favor. When I found myself incapable of resisting my wish to know you and to become intimate with you, I could not gratify that wish without taking my friend into my confidence, and I had no doubt of his compliance. He conceived a very favorable opinion of your character from your first letter, not only because you had chosen the parlor of the convent for our first interview, but also because you appointed his casino at Murrin instead of your own. But he likewise begged of me to allow him to be present at our first meeting-place, in a small closet, a true hiding-place, from which one can see and hear everything without being suspected by those in the drawing-room. You have not yet seen that mysterious closet, but I will show it to you on the last day of the year. Tell me, dearest, whether I could refuse that singular request to the man who was showing me such compliant kindness. I consented, and it was natural for me not to let you know it. You are therefore aware now that my friend was a witness of all we did and said during the first night that we spent together, but do not let that annoy you, for you pleased him in everything, in your behavior towards me as well as in the witty sayings which you uttered to make me laugh. I was in great fear when the conversation turned upon him lest you would say something which might hurt his self-love, but very fortunately he heard only the most flattering compliments. Such is, dearest love, the sincere confession of my treason. But as a wise lover you will forgive me, because it has not done you the slightest harm. My friend is extremely curious to ascertain who you are. But listen to me. That night you were natural and thoroughly amiable. Would you have been the same if you had known that there was a witness? It is not likely, and if I had acquainted you with the truth you might have refused your consent, and perhaps you would have been right. Now that we know each other, and that you entertain no doubt, I trust, of my devoted love, I wish to ease my conscience and to venture all. Learn then, dearest, that on the last day of the year my friend will be at the casino, which he will leave only the next morning. You will not see him, but he will see us. As you are supposed not to know anything about it, you must feel that you will have to be natural in everything, otherwise he might guess that I have betrayed the secret. It is especially in your conversation that you must be careful. My friend possesses every virtue except the theological one called faith, and on that subject you can say anything you like. You will be at liberty to talk literature, travels, politics, anything you please, and you need not refrain from anecdotes. In fact, you are certain of his approbation. Now, dearest, I have only this to say. Do you feel disposed to allow yourself to be seen by another man while you are abandoning yourself to the sweet voluptuousness of your senses? That doubt causes all my anxiety, and I entreat from you an answer yes or no. Do you understand how painful the doubt is for me? I expect not to close my eyes throughout the night, and I shall not rest until I have your decision. In case you should object to show your tenderness in the presence of a third person, I will take whatever determination love may suggest to me. But I hope you will consent, and even if you were not to perform the character of an ardent lover in a masterly manner, it would not be of any consequence. I will let my friend believe that your love has not reached its apogee. That letter certainly took me by surprise, but all things considered thinking that my part was better than the one accepted by the lover, I laughed heartily at the proposal. I confess, however, that I should not have laughed if I had not known the nature of the individual who was to be the witness of my amorous exploits. Understanding all the anxiety of my friend and wishing to allay it, I immediately wrote to her the following lines. You wish me, heavenly creature, to answer you yes or no, and I, full of love for you, want my answer to reach you before noon so that you may dine in perfect peace. I will spend the last night of the year with you, and I can assure you that the friend, to whom we will give a spectacle worthy of pathos and amethos, shall see or hear nothing likely to make him suppose that I am acquainted with his secret. You may be certain that I will play my part, not as a novice, but as a master. If it is man's duty to be always the slave of his reason, if, as long as he has control over himself, he ought not to act without taking it for his guide, I cannot understand why a man should be ashamed to show himself to a friend at the very moment that he is most favored by love and nature. Yet I confess that you would have been wrong if you had confided the secret to me the first time, and that most likely I should then have refused to grant you that mark of my compliance. Not because I loved you less than I do now, but there are such strange tastes in nature that I might have imagined that your lover's ruling taste was to enjoy the sight of an ardent and frantic couple in the midst of amorous connection, and in that case, conceiving an unfavorable opinion of you, vexation might have frozen the love you had just sent through my being. Now, however, the case is very different. I know all I possess in you, and from all you have told me of your lover, I am well disposed towards him, and I believe him to be my friend. If a feeling of modesty does not deter you from showing yourself tender, loving, and full of amorous ardor with me in his presence, how could I be ashamed when, on the contrary, I ought to feel proud of myself? I have no reason to blush at having made a conquest of you, or at showing myself in those moments during which I prove the liberality with which nature has bestowed upon me the shape and the strength which assures such immense enjoyment to me, besides the certainty that I can make the woman I love share it with me. I am aware that, owing to a feeling which is called natural, but which is perhaps only the result of civilization and the effect of the prejudices inherent in youth, most men object to any witness in those moments, but those who cannot give any good reasons for their repugnance must have in their nature something of the cat. At the same time they might have some excellent reasons, without their thinking themselves bound to give them, except to the woman, who is easily deceived. I excuse with all my heart those who know that they would only excite the pity of the witnesses, but we both have no fear of that sort. All you have told me of your friend proves that he will enjoy our pleasures, but do you know what will be the result of it? The intensity of our ardor will excite his own, and he will throw himself at my feet, begging and entreating me to give up to him the only object likely to calm his amorous excitement. What could I do in that case? Give you up? I could hardly refuse to do so with good grace, but I would go away, for I could not remain a quiet spectator. Farewell, my darling love. All will be well. I have no doubt. Prepare yourself for the athletic contest, and rely upon the fortunate being who adores you. I spent the six following days with my three worthy friends, and at the Redotto, which at that time was opened on St. Stephen's Day. As I could not hold the cards there, the patricians alone having the privilege of holding the bank, I played morning and evening, and I constantly lost, for whoever punts must lose. But the loss of the four or five thousand sequins I possessed, far from cooling my love, seemed only to increase its ardor. At the end of the year, 1774, the Great Council promulgated a law forbidding all games of chance, the first effect of which was to close the Redotto. This law was a real phenomenon, and when the votes were taken out of the urn, the senators looked at each other with stupefaction. They made the law unwittingly, for three-fourths of the voters objected to it, and yet three-fourths of the votes were in favor of it. People said that it was a miracle of St. Mark's, who had answered the prayers of Monsignor Fleguini, then censor and chief, now cardinal, and one of the three state inquisitors. On the day appointed, I was punctual at the place of Rendezvous, and I had not to wait for my mistress. She was in the dressing room, where she had time to attend to her toilet, and as soon as she heard me, she came to me dressed with the greatest elegance. My friend is not yet at his post, she said to me, but the moment he is there I will give you a wink. Where is the mysterious closet? There it is. Look at the back of this sofa against the wall. All those flowers and relief have a hole in the center which communicates with the closet behind that wall. There is a bed, a table, and everything necessary to a person who wants to spend the night in amusing himself by looking at what is going on in this room. I will skew it to you whenever you like. Was it arranged by your lover's orders? No, for he could not foresee that he would use it. I understand that he may find great pleasure in such a sight, but being unable to possess you at the very moment, nature will make you most necessary to him. What will he do? That is his business. Besides, he is at liberty to go away when he has had enough of it, or to sleep if he has a mind to. But if you play your part naturally, he will not feel any weariness. I will be most natural, but I must be more polite. No, no politeness I beg, for if you are polite, good-bye to nature. Where have you ever seen, I should like to know, two lovers excited by all the fury of love, think of politeness. You are right, darling, but I must be more delicate. Very well, delicacy can do no harm. But no more than usual. Your letter greatly pleased me. You have treated the subject like a man of experience. I have already stated that my mistress was dressed most elegantly, but I ought to have added that it was the elegance of the graces, and that it did not in any way prevent ease and simplicity. I only wondered at her having used some paint for the face, but it rather pleased me because she had applied it according to the fashion of the ladies of Versailles. The charm of that style consists in the negligence with which the paint is applied. The rouge must not appear natural. It is used to please the eyes which see it in the marks of an intoxication heralding the most amorous fury. She told me that she had put some on her face to please her inquisitive friend, who was very fond of it. That taste, I said, proves him to be a Frenchman. As I was uttering these words she made a sign to me. The friend was at his post, and now the play began. The more I look at you, beloved angel, the more I think you worthy of my adoration. But are you not certain that you do not worship a cruel divinity? Yes, and therefore I do not offer my sacrifices to appease you, but to excite you. You shall feel all through the night the ardor of my devotion. You will not find me insensible to your offerings. I would begin them at once, but I think that in order to ensure their efficiency we ought to have supper first. I have taken nothing today but a cup of chocolate and a salad of white of eggs dressed with oil from Luca and Marseille Vinegar. But dearest, it is folly. You must be ill. Yes, I am just now, but I shall be all right when I have distilled the whites of eggs one by one into your amorous soul. I did not think you required any such stimulants. Who could want any with you? But I have a rational fear, for if I happened to prime without being able to fire I would blow my brains out. My dear brownie, it would certainly be a misfortune, but there would be no occasion to be in despair on that account. You think that I would only have to prime again? Of course. While we were bantering in this edifying fashion, the table had been laid and we sat down to supper. She ate for two and I for four, our excellent appetite being excited by the delicate cheer. A sumptuous dessert was served in splendid silver gilt plate, similar to the two candlesticks which held four wax candles each. Seeing that I admired them she said, they are present for my friend. It is a magnificent present. He has given you the snuffers likewise? No, it is a proof that your friend is a great nobleman. How so? Because great lords have no idea of snuffing the candle. Our candles have wicks which never would cry of that operation. Good. Tell me who has taught you French. Old La Forest. I have been his pupil for six years. He has also taught me to write poetry, but you know a great many words which I never heard from him, such as a go-go, frustatoire, reté, d'Orloté. Who taught you these words? The good company in Paris and women particularly. We made some punch and amused ourselves in eating oysters after the voluptuous fashion of lovers. We sucked them in one by one after placing them on the other's tongue. Voluptuous reader, try it and tell me whether it is not the nectar of the gods. At last joking was over and I reminded her that we had to think of more substantial pleasures. Wait here, she said, I am going to change my dress. I shall be back in one minute. Left alone and not knowing what to do, I looked in the drawers of her writing-table. I did not touch the letters, but finding a box full of certain preservative sheaths against the fatal and dreaded plumpness, I emptied it, and I placed in it the following lines instead of the stolen goods. Enfant de l'amitié, minest de la paure, je suis l'amour, tremblez, respectez le velour, et toi, femme de Dieu, ne crans pas d'être maire, car si tu le deviens, du ciel serre le père, si les dits s'appendant, que tu vous, le Baron Paul, je suis tout près, je me ferai charter. My mistress soon returned dressed like a nymph. A gown of Indian muslin, embroidered with gold lilies, spewed to admiration the outline of her voluptuous form, and her fine lace cap was worthy of a queen. I threw myself at her feet, and treating her not to delay my happiness any longer. Control your ardor a few moments, she said. Here is the altar, and in a few minutes the victim will be in your arms. You will see, she added, going to her writing-table, how far the delicacy and the kind attention of my friend can extend. She took the box and opened it, but instead of the pretty sheaths that she expected to see, she found my poetry. After reading it aloud she called me a thief, and smothering me with kisses she entreated me to give her back what I had stolen, but I pretended not to understand. She then read the lines again, considered, for one moment, under pretense of getting a better pen, she left the room, saying, I am going to pay you in your own coin. She came back after a few minutes and wrote the following six lines. Saint-Ryenne, haute aux plaisirs amourous, l'objet de tant le sang sur le cambier nouveau eau, à l'abri du danger, mon amé satisfait, sa voure en sorette parfaite, et si tu veux jouer avec sécurité, rends-moi mon deux amis, ces dents de l'amitié. After this I could not resist any longer, and I gave her back those objects so precious to a nun who wants to sacrifice on the altar of Venus. The clock striking twelve I showed her the principal actor who was longing to perform, and she arranged the sofa, saying that the alcove being too cold we had better sleep on it. But the true reason was that to satisfy the curious lover it was necessary for us to be seen. Dear reader, a picture must have shades, and there is nothing no matter how beautiful in one point of view that does not require to be sometimes veiled if you look at it from a different one. In order to paint the diversified scene which took place between me and my lovely mistress until the dawn of day, I should have to use all the colors of Aratino's palette. I was ardent and full of vigor, but I had to deal with a strong partner, and in the morning after the last exploit we were positively worn out, so much so that my charming nun felt some anxiety on my account. It is true that she had seen my blood spurt out and cover her bosom during my last offering, and as she did not suspect the true cause of that phenomenon she turned pale with fright. I elayed her anxiety by a thousand follies which made her laugh heartily. I washed her splendid bosom with rose water so as to purify it from the blood by which it had been died for the first time. She expressed a fear that she had swallowed a few drops, but I told her that it was of no consequence, even if were the case. She resumed the costume of a nun and in treating me to lie down and to write to her before returning to Venice so as to let her know how I was. She left the casino. I had no difficulty in obeying her, for I was truly in great need of rest. I slept until evening. As soon as I awoke, I wrote to her that my health was excellent and that I felt quite inclined to begin our delightful contest all over again. I asked her to let me know how she was herself, and after I had dispatched my letter, I returned to Venice. End of CHAPTER XIII. Recording by Joelle Peebles. CHAPTER XIX. I give my portrait to M. M., a present from her. I go to the opera with her. She plays at the pharaoh-table and replenishes my empty purse. Philosophical conversation with M. M., a letter from C. C., she knows all. A ball at the convent, my exploits in the character of Piro. My dear M. M. had expressed a wish to have my portrait, something like the one I had given to C. C., only larger, to wear it as a locket. The outside was to represent some saint, and an invisible spring was to remove the sainted picture and expose my likeness. I called upon the artist who had painted the other miniature for me, and in three sittings I had what I wanted. He afterwards made me an annunciation in which the angel Gabriel was transformed into a dark-haired saint and the holy virgin into a beautiful light-complexioned woman holding her arms towards the angel. The celebrated painter Mengs imitated that idea in the picture of the annunciation which he painted in Madrid twelve years afterwards, but I do not know whether he had the same reasons for it as my painter. That allegory was exactly the same size as my portrait, and the jeweler who made the locket arranged it in such a manner that no one could suppose the sacred image to be there only for the sake of hiding a profane likeness. The end of January, 1754, before going to the casino, I called upon Laura to give her a letter for C. C., and she handed me one from her which amused me. My beautiful nun had initiated that young girl not only into the mysteries of Sappho, but also in high metaphysics, and C. C. had consequently become a free thinker. She wrote to me that, objecting to give an account of her affairs to her confessor, and yet not wishing to tell him falsehoods, she had made up her mind to tell him nothing. He has remarked, she added, that perhaps I do not confess anything to him, because I did not examine my conscience sufficiently, and I answered him that I had nothing to say, but that if he liked, I would commit a few sins for the purpose of having something to tell him in confession. I thought this reply worthy of a thorough sophist, and laughed heartily. On the same day I received the following letter from my adorable nun. I write to you from my bed, dearest Brownie, because I cannot remain standing on my feet. I am almost dead, but I am not anxious about it. A little rest will make me all right, for I eat well and sleep soundly. You have made me very happy by writing to me that your bleeding has not had any evil consequences, and I give you fair notice that I shall have the proof of it on twelfth night, at least if you like. That is understood, and you will let me know. In case you should feel disposed to grant me that favor, my darling, I wish to go to the opera. All events recollect that I positively forbid the whites of eggs for the future, for I would rather have a little less enjoyment and more security respecting your health. In future, when you go to the casino of Murrin, please to inquire whether there is anybody there, and if you receive an affirmative answer, go away. My friend will do the same. In that manner you will not run the risk of meeting one another, but you need not observe these precautions for long, if you wish, for my friend is extremely fond of you and has a great desire to make your acquaintance. He has told me that, if he had not seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that a man could run the race that you ran so splendidly the other night. But he says that by making love in that manner you bid defiance to death, for he is certain that the blood you lost comes from the brain. But what will he say when he hears that you only laugh at the occurrence? I am going to make you very merry. He wants to eat the salad of whites of eggs, and he wants me to ask you for some of your vinegar, because there is none in Venice. He said that he spent a delightful night in spite of his fear of the evil consequences of our amorous sport, and he has found my own efforts superior to the usual weakness of my sex. That may be the case, dearest Brownie, but I am delighted to have done such wonders and to have made such trial of my strength. Without you, darling of my heart, I should have lived without knowing myself, and I wonder whether it is possible for nature to create a woman who could remain insensible in your arms, or rather one who would not receive new life by your side. It is more than love that I feel for you. It is idolatry, and my mouth, longing to meet yours, sends forth thousands of kisses which are wasted in the air. I am panting for your divine portrait, so as to quench by a sweet illusion the fire which devours my amorous lips. I trust my likeness will prove equally dear to you, for it seems to me that nature has created us for one another, and I curse the fatal instant in which I raised an invincible barrier between us. You will find enclosed the key of my bureau. Open it and take a parcel on which you will see written for my darling. It is a small present which my friend wishes me to offer you in exchange for the beautiful nightcap that you gave me, at you. The small key enclosed in the letter belonged to a bureau in the Boudoir. Anxious to know the nature of the present that she could offer me at the instance of her friend, I opened the bureau and found a parcel containing a letter and a Morocco leather case. The letter was as follows. That which will, I hope, render this present dear to you is the portrait of a woman who adores you. Our friend had two of them, but the great friendship he entertains towards you has given him the happy idea of disposing of one in your favour. This box contains two portraits of me which are to be seen in two different ways. If you take off the bottom part of the case in its length, you will see me as a nun. If you press on the corner, the top will open and expose me to your sight in a state of nature. It is not possible, dearest, that a woman can ever have loved you as I do. Our friend excites my passion by the flattering opinion that he entertains of you. I cannot decide whether I am more fortunate in my friend or in my lover, for I could not imagine any being superior to either one or the other. The case contained a gold snuff box, and a small quantity of Spanish snuff which had been left in it proved that it had been used. I followed the instructions given in the letter, and I first saw my mistress in the costume of a nun, standing and in half-profile. The second secret spring brought her before my eyes entirely naked, lying on a mattress of black satin in the position of the Madeleine of Correggio. She was looking at love, who had the quiver at his feet, and was gracefully sitting on the nun's robes. It was such a beautiful present that I did not think myself worthy of it. I wrote to M. M. a letter in which the deepest gratitude was blended with the most exalted love. The drawers of the bureau contained all her diamonds and four purses full of sequins. I admired her noble confidence in me. I locked the bureau, leaving everything undisturbed, and returned to Venice. If I had been able to escape out of the capricious clutches of fortune by giving up gambling, my happiness would have been complete. My own portrait was set with rare perfection, and as it was arranged to be worn round the neck I attached it to six yards of Venetian chain which made it a very handsome present. The secret was in the ring to which it was suspended, and it was very difficult to discover it. To make the spring work and expose my likeness it was necessary to pull the ring with some force, and in a peculiar manner. Otherwise nothing could be seen but the enunciation, and it was then a beautiful ornament for a nun. On twelfth night, having the locket and chain in my pocket, I went early in the evening to watch near the fine statue erected to the hero Colione after he had been poisoned, if history does not deceive us. Sit divas moto non vivas is a sentence from the enlightened monarch which will last as long as there are monarchs on earth. At six o'clock precisely my mistress alighted from the gondola, well dressed and well masked, but this time in the garb of a woman. We went to the Saint Samuel opera, and after the second ballet we repaired to the Rodoto, where she amused herself by looking at all the ladies of the nobility who alone had the right to walk about without masks. After rambling about for half an hour we entered the hall where the bank was held. She stopped before the table of Monsieur Mosenigo, who at that time was the best amongst all the noble gamblers. As nobody was playing he was carelessly whispering to a masked lady, whom I recognized as Madame Marina Patani, whose adore he was. M. M. inquired whether I wanted to play, and as I answered in the negative she said to me, I take you for my partner. And without waiting for my answer she took a purse and placed a pile of gold on a card. The banker, without disturbing himself, shuffled the cards, turned them up, and my friend won the paroli. The banker paid, took another pack of cards, and continued his conversation with his lady, showing complete indifference for four hundred sequins, in which my friend had already placed on the same card. The banker, continuing his conversations, M. M. said to me in excellent French, Our stakes are not high enough to interest this gentleman, let us go. I took up the gold which I put in my pocket without answering Monsieur Mosenigo, who said to me, Your mask is too exacting. I rejoined my lovely gambler, who was surrounded. We stopped soon afterwards before the bank of M. Pierre Marchello, a charming young man who had near him Madame Venier, sister of the patrician Momolo. The mistress began to play, and lost five reloaves of gold, one after the other. Having no more money, she took handfuls of gold from my pocket, and in four or five deals she broke the bank. She went away, and the noble banker, bowing, complimented her upon her good fortune. After I had taken care of all the gold she had won, I gave her my arm, and we left the redotto. But remarking that a few inquisitive persons were following us, I took a gondola which landed us according to my instructions. One can always escape prying eyes in this way in Venice. After supper I counted our winnings, and I found myself in possession of one thousand sequins as my share. I rolled the remainder in paper, and my friend asked me to put it in her bureau. I then took my locket and threw it over her neck. It gave her the greatest delight, and she tried for a long time to discover the secret. At last I showed it to her, and she pronounced my portrait in excellent likeness. Recollecting that we had but three hours to devote to the pleasures of love, I entreated her to allow me to turn them to good account. Yes, she said, but be prudent, for our friend pretends that you might die on the spot. And why does he not fear the same danger for you when your ecstasies are in reality much more frequent than mine? He says that the liquor distilled by us women does not come from the brain, as is the case with men, and that the generating parts of women have no contact with her intellect. The consequence of it, he says, is that the child is not the offspring of the mother as far as the brain, the seat of reason, is concerned, but of the father, and it seems to me very true. In that important act the woman has scarcely the amount of reason that she is in need of, and she cannot have any left to enable her to give a dose to the being she is generating. Your friend is a very learned man, but do you know that such a way of arguing opens my eyes singularly? It is evident that, if that system be true, women ought to be forgiven for all the follies which they commit on account of love, whilst man is inexcusable. I should be in despair if I happen to place you in a position to become a mother. I shall know before long, and if it should be the case so much the better, my mind is made up, and my decision taken. And what is that decision? To abandon my destiny entirely to you both, I am quite certain that neither one nor the other would let me remain at the convent. It would be a fatal event which would decide our future destinies. I would carry you off, and take you to England to marry you. My friend thinks that a physician might be bought who under the pretext of some disease of his own invention would prescribe to me to go somewhere to drink the waters, a permission which the bishop might grant. At the watering-place I would get cured and come back here, but I would much rather unite our destinies forever. Tell me, dearest, could you manage to live anywhere as comfortably as you do here? Alas, my love, no. But with you how could I be unhappy? But we will resume that subject whenever it may be necessary. Let us go to bed. Yes. If I have a son, my friend wishes to act towards him as a father. Would he believe himself to be the father? You might both of you believe it, but some likeness would soon enlighten me as to which of you two was the true father. Yes. If, for instance, the child composed poetry, then you would suppose that he was the son of your friend. How do you know that my friend can write poetry? Admit that he is the author of the six lines which you wrote in answer to mine. I cannot possibly admit such a falsehood because good or bad they were of my own making, and so as to leave you no doubt let me convince you of it at once. Oh, never mind. I believe you, and let us go to bed, or love will call out the God of Pernassus. Let him do it, but take this pencil and write. I am Apollo. You may be love. Je ne me betray pas. Je te cide la place. Si Venus est ma sour, l'amour est de ma race. Je sais faire des verres. Un instant de perdu n'enfonce pas l'amour si je l'ai convaincu. It is on my knees that I entreat your pardon, my heavenly friend, but how could I expect so much talent in a young daughter of Venice only twenty-two years of age and above all brought up in a convent? I have a most insatiate desire to prove myself more and more worthy of you. Did you think I was prudent at the gaming table? Prudent enough to make the most intrepid banker tremble? I do not always play so well, but I had taken you as a partner and I felt I could set fortune at defiance. Why would you not play? Because I had lost four thousand sequins last week and I was without money, but I shall play to-morrow and fortune will smile upon me. In the meantime, here is a small book which I have brought from your boudoir, the postures of Pietro Aratino. I want to try some of them. The thought is worthy of you, but some of these positions could not be executed and others are insipid. True, but I have chosen four very interesting ones. These delightful labours occupied the remainder of the night until the alarm warned us that it was time to part. I accompanied my lovely nun as far as her gondola and then went to bed, but I could not sleep. I got up in order to go and pay a few small debts, for one of the greatest pleasures that a spendthrift can enjoy is, in my opinion, to discharge certain liabilities. The gold won by my mistress proved lucky for me, for I did not pass a single day of the carnival without winning. Three days after twelfth night, having paid a visit to the Casino of Murn for the purpose of placing some gold in M.M.'s bureau, the doorkeeper handed me a letter from my nun. Laura had, a few minutes before, delivered me one from C.C. My new mistress, after giving me an account of her health, requested me to inquire from my jeweler whether he had not by chance made a ring having on its bezel a St. Catherine which, without a doubt, concealed another portrait. She wished to know the secret of that ring. A young boarder, she added, a lovely girl and my friend, is the owner of that ring. There must be a secret, but she does not know it. I answered that I would do what she wished, but here is the letter of C.C. It was rather amusing because it placed me in a regular dilemma. It bore a late date, but the letter of M.M. had been written two days before it. Ali, how truly happy I am, my beloved husband. You love Sister M.M., my dear friend. She has a locket as big as a ring, and she cannot have received it from anyone but you. I am certain that your dear likeness is to be found under the annunciation. I recognize the style of the artist, and it is certainly the same who painted the locket and my ring. I am satisfied that Sister M.M. has received that present from you. I am so pleased to know all that I would not run the risk of grieving her by telling her that I knew her secret, but my dear friend, either more open or more curious, has not imitated my reserve. She told me that she had no doubt of my St. Catherine concealing the portrait of my lover. Unable to say anything better, I told her that the ring was in reality a gift from my lover, but then I had no idea of his portrait being concealed inside of it. If it is, as you say, observed M.M., and if you have no objection, I will try to find out the secret, and afterwards I will let you know mine. Being quite certain that she would not discover it, I gave her my ring, saying that if she could find out the secret I should be very much pleased. Just at that moment my aunt paid me a visit, and I left my ring in the hands of M.M., who returned it to me after dinner, assuring me that, although she had not been able to find out the secret, she was certain there was one. I promise you that she shall never hear anything about it from me, because if she saw your portrait she would guess everything, and then I would have to tell her who you are. I am sorry to be compelled to conceal anything from her, but I am very glad you love one another. I pity you both, however, with all my heart, because I know that you are obliged to make love through a grating in that horrid parlor. How I wish, dearest, I could give you my place. I would make two persons happy at the same time. At you. I answered that she had guessed rightly that the locket of her friend was a present for me and contained my likeness, but that she was to keep the secret and to be certain that my friendship for M.M. interfered in no way with the feeling which bound me to her forever. I certainly was well aware that I was not behaving in a straightforward manner, but I endeavored to deceive myself, so true it is that a woman, weak as she is, has more influence by the feeling she inspires than man can possibly have with all his strength. At all events I was foolishly trying to keep up an intrigue which I knew to be near its denouement, through the intimacy that had sprung up between these two friendly rivals. Laura, having informed me that there was to be on a certain day a ball in the large parlor of the convent, I made up my mind to attend it in such a disguise that my two friends could not recognize me. I decided upon the costume of a pyro, because it conceals the form and the gait better than any other. I was certain that my two friends would be behind the grating and that it would afford me the pleasant opportunity of seeing them together and of comparing them. In Venice, during the carnival, that innocent pleasure is allowed in convents. The guests dance in the parlor and the sisters remain behind the grating, enjoying the sight of the ball which is over by sunset. Then all the guests retire and the poor nuns are for a long time happy in the recollection of the pleasure enjoyed by their eyes. The ball was to take place in the afternoon of the day appointed for my meeting with M. M. in the evening, at the Casino of Murrin, but that could not prevent me from going to the ball, besides I wanted to see my dear C. C. I have said before that the dress of a pyro is the costume which disguises the figure and the gait most completely. It has also the advantage, through a large cap, of concealing the hair and the white gauze which covers the face does not allow the color of the eyes or of the eyebrows to be seen. But in order to prevent the costume from hindering the movements of the mask he must not wear anything underneath, and in winter a dress made of light calico is not particularly agreeable. I did not, however, pay any attention to that, and taking only a plate of soup I went to Murrin in a gondola. I had no cloak, and in my pockets I had nothing but my handkerchief, my purse, and the key of the Casino. End of CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XIX TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHIN CHAPTER XIX A BALL AT THE CONVENT My exploits in the character of pyro. C. C. comes to the Casino instead of M. M. I spend the night with her in a very silly way. I went at once to the convent. The parlor was full, but thanks to my costume of pyro, which was seen in Venice but very seldom, everybody made room for me. I walked on, assuming the gate of a booby, the true characteristic of my costume, and I stopped near the dancers. After I had examined the pantaloons, punches, harlequins, and Mary Andrews, I went near the grating where I saw all the nuns and boarders, some seated, some standing, and without appearing to, notice any of them in particular. I remarked my two friends together, and very intent upon the dancers. I then walked round the room, eyeing everybody from head to foot, and calling the general attention upon myself. I chose for my partner in the minuet a very pretty girl, dressed as a columbine, and I took her hand in so awkward a manner, and with such an air of stupidity that everybody laughed and made room for us. My partner danced very well according to her costume, and I kept my character with such perfection that the laughter was general. After the minuet I danced twelve forlanas with the greatest vigor. Out of breath I threw myself on a sofa pretending to go to sleep, and the moment I began to snore, everybody respected the slumbers of Perot. The quadril lasted one hour, and I took no part in it, but immediately after it a harlequin approached me with the impertinent switch belongs to his costume, and flogged me with his wand. It is Harlequin's weapon. In my quality of Perot I had no weapons. I seized him round the waist and carried him round the parlor, running all the time, while he kept on flogging me. I then put him down, but directly snatching his wand out of his hand I lifted his columbine on my shoulders and pursued him, striking him with the wand to the great delight and mirth of the company. The columbine was screaming because she was afraid of my tumbling down and of showing her center of gravity to everybody in the fall. She had good reason to fear, for suddenly a foolish Mary Andrew came behind me, tripped me up, and down I tumbled. Everybody hooted master punch. I quickly picked myself up and rather vexed I began a regular fight with the insolent fellow. He was of my size but awkward, and he had nothing but strength. I threw him and shaking him vigorously on all sides I contrived to deprive him of his hump and false stomach. The nuns, who had never seen such a merry sight, clapped their hands. Everybody laughed loudly, and improving my opportunity I ran through the crowd and disappeared. I was in a perspiration and the weather was cold. I threw myself into a gondola, and in order not to get chilled I landed at the ridotto. I had two hours to spare before going to the casino of Murrin, and I longed to enjoy the astonishment of my beautiful nun when she saw Mr. Perot standing before her. I spent those two hours in playing at all the banks, winning, losing, and performing all sorts of antics with complete freedom, being satisfied that no one could recognize me, enjoying the present, bidding defiance to the future, and laughing at all those reasonable beings who exercised their reason to avoid the misfortunes which they fear, destroying at the same time the pleasure that they might enjoy. But two o'clock struck and gave me warning that love and commas were calling me to bestow new delights upon me. With my pockets full of gold and silver I left the ridotto. Hurried to Murrin, entered the sanctuary, and saw my divinity leaning against the mantelpiece. She wore her convent dress. I came near her by stealth in order to enjoy her surprise. I look at her, and I remain petrified, astounded. The person I see is not M. M. It is C. C., dressed as a nun, who, more astonished even than myself, does not utter one word or make a movement. I throw myself in an armchair in order to breathe and to recover from my surprise. The sight of C. C. had annihilated me, and my mind was as much stupefied as my body. I found myself in an inextricable maze. It is M. M., I said to myself, who has played that trick upon me, but how has she contrived to know that I am the lover of C. C.? Has C. C. betrayed my secret? But if she has betrayed it, how could M. M. deprive herself of the pleasure of seeing me, and consent to her place being taken by her friend and rival? That cannot be a mark of kind compliance, for a woman never carries it to such an extreme. I see in it only a mark of contempt, a gratuitous insult. My self-love tried hard to imagine some reason likely to disprove the possibility of that contempt, but in vain. Absorbed in that dark discontent I believed myself wantonly trifled with, deceived, despised, and I spent half an hour silent and gloomy, staring at C. C., who scarcely dared to breathe, perplexed, confused, and not knowing in whose presence she was, for she could only know me as the perot whom she had seen at the ball. Deeply in love with M. M., and having come to the casino only for her, I did not feel disposed to accept the exchange, although I was very far from despising C. C., whose charms were as great at least as those of M. M. I loved her tenderly, I adored her, but at that moment it was not her whom I wanted, because at first her presence had struck me as a mystification. It seemed to me that if I celebrated the return of C. C. in an amorous manner I would fail in what I owed to myself, and I thought that I was bound in honour not to lend myself to the imposition. Besides without exactly realising that feeling I was not sorry to have it in my power to reproach M. M. with an indifference very strange in a woman in love, and I wanted to act in such a manner that she should not be able to say that she had procured me a pleasure. I must add that I suspected M. M. to be hiding in the secret closet, perhaps with her friend. I had to take a decision, for I could not pass the whole night in my costume of pyro, and without speaking. At first I thought of going away, the more so that both C. C. and her friend could not be certain that I and pyro were the same individual, but I soon abandoned the idea with horror, thinking of the deep sorrow which would fill the loving soul of C. C. if she ever heard I was the pyro. I almost fancied that she knew it already, and I shared the grief which she evidently would feel in that case. I had seduced her. I had given her the right to call me her husband. These thoughts broke my heart. If M. M. is in the closet, I said to myself, she will show herself in good time. With that idea I took off the gauze which covered my features. My lovely C. C. gave a deep sigh, and said, I breathe again. It could not be anyone but you. My heart felt it. You seemed surprised when you saw me, dearest. Did you not know that I was waiting for you? I had not the faintest idea of it. If you are angry, I regret it deeply, but I am innocent. My adored friend come to my arms, and never suppose that I can be angry with you. I am delighted to see you. You are always my dear wife, but I intrigue you to clear up a cruel doubt, for you could never have betrayed my secret. I, I would never have been guilty of such a thing, even if death had stared me in the face. Then how did you come here? How did your friend contrive to discover everything? Not one but you could tell her that I am your husband. Laura, perhaps? No, Laura is faithful, dearest, and I cannot guess how it was. But how could you be persuaded to assume that disguise and to come here? You can leave the convent, and you have never apprised me of that important circumstance. Can you suppose that I would not have told you all about it, if I had ever left the convent even once? I came out of it two hours ago for the first time, and I was induced to take that step in the simplest and most natural manner. Tell me all about it, my love. I feel extremely curious. I am glad of it, and I would conceal nothing from you. You know how dearly M. M. and I love each other. No intimacy could be more tender than ours. You can judge of it by what I told you in my letters. Well, two days ago my dear friend begged the abyss and my aunt to allow me to sleep in her room in the place of the lay sister, who, having a very bad cold, had carried her cough to the infirmary. The permission was granted, and you cannot imagine our pleasure in seeing ourselves at liberty for the first time to sleep in the same bed. Today, shortly after you had left the parlor where you so much amused us, without our discovering that the delightful Perot was our friend, my dear M. M. retired to her room and I followed her. The moment we were alone she told me that she wanted me to render her a service from which depended our happiness. I need not tell you how readily I answered that she had only to name it. Then she opened a drawer and, much to my surprise, she dressed me in this costume. She was laughing, and I did the same without suspecting the end of the joke. When she saw me entirely metamorphosed into a nun she told me that she was going to trust me with a great secret, but that she entertained in no fear of my discretion. Let me tell you, clearest friend, she said to me, that I was on the point of going out of the convent to return only to-morrow morning. I have, however, just decided that you shall go instead. You have nothing to fear, and you do not require any instructions, because I know that you will meet with no difficulty. In an hour a lay sister will come here. I will speak a few words apart to her, and she will tell you to follow her. You will go out with her through the small gate and across the garden as far as the room leading out to the low shore. There you will get into the gondola, and say to the gondolier these words. To the casino you will reach it in five minutes. You will step out, and enter a small apartment where you will find a good fire. You will be alone, and you will wait. For whom, I inquired, for nobody you need not know any more. You may only be certain that nothing unpleasant will happen to you. Trust me for that. You will suppot the casino and sleep, if you like, without being disturbed. Do not ask any questions for I cannot answer them, such as my dear husband, the whole truth. Tell me now what I could do after that speech of my friend, and after she had received my promise to do whatever she wished. Do not distrust what I tell you, for my lips cannot utter a falsehood. I laughed, and not expecting anything else but an agreeable adventure, and I followed the lay sister and soon found myself here. After a tedious hour of expectation, Perot made his appearance. Be quite certain that the very moment I saw you my heart knew who it was, but a minute after I felt as if the lightning had struck me when I saw you step back, for I saw clearly enough that you did not expect to find me. Your gloomy silence frightened me, and I would never have dared to be the first in breaking it. The more so that, in spite of the feelings of my heart, I might have been mistaken. The dress of Perot might conceal some other man, but certainly no one that I could have seen in this place without horror. Recollect that for the last eight months I have been deprived of the happiness of kissing you, and now that you must be certain of my innocence allow me to congratulate you upon knowing this casino. You are happy, and I congratulate you with all my heart. M.M. is, after me, the only woman worthy of your love, the only one with whom I could consent to share it. I used to pity you, but I do so no longer, and your happiness makes me happy. Kiss me now. I should have been very ungrateful. I should even have been cruel, if I had not then folded in my arms with the warmth of true love the angel of goodness and beauty who was before me, thanks to the most wonderful effort of our friendship. After assuring her that I no longer entertained any doubt of her innocence, I told her that I thought the behavior of her friend very ambiguous. I said that, notwithstanding the pleasure I felt in seeing her, the trick played upon me by her friend was a very bad one, that it could not do otherwise than displease me greatly, because it was an insult to me. I am not of your opinion, replied C.C. Dear M.M. has evidently contrived somehow or other to discover that, before you were acquainted with her, you were my lover. She thought very likely that you still loved me, and she imagined, for I know her well, that she could not give us a greater proof of her love than by procuring us, without forewarning us, that which two lovers fond of each other must wish for so ardently. She wished to make us happy, and I cannot be angry with her for it. You are right to think so, dearest, but my position is very different from yours. You have not another lover. You could not have another. But I, being free and unable to see you, have not found it possible to resist the charms of M.M. I love her madly. She knows it, and intelligent as she is, she must have meant to show her contempt for me by doing what she has done. I candidly confess that I feel hurt in the highest degree. If she loved me as I love her, she never could have sent you here instead of coming herself. I do not think so, my beloved friend. Her soul is as noble as her heart is generous, and just in the same manner that I am not sorry to know that you love one another and that you make each other happy, as this beautiful casino proves to me. She does not regret our love, and she is, on the contrary, delighted to show us that she approves of it. Most likely she meant to prove that she loved you for your own sake, that your happiness makes her happy, and that she is not jealous of her best friend being her rival. To convince you that you ought not to be angry with her for having discovered our secret, she proves, by sending me here in her place, that she is pleased to see your heart divided between her and me. You know very well that she loves me, and that I am often either her wife or her husband, and as you do not object to my being your rival in making her often as happy as I can, she does not want you either to suppose that her love is like hatred, for the love of a jealous heart is very much like it. You plead the cause of your friend with the eloquence of an angel, but, dear little wife, you do not see the affair in its proper light. You have intelligence and a pure soul, but you have not my experience. M.M.'s love for me has been nothing but a passing fancy, and she knows that I am not such an idiot as to be deceived by all this affair. I am miserable, and it is her doing. Then I should be right if I complained of her also, because she makes me feel that she is the mistress of my lover, and she shows me that, after seducing him from me, she gives him back to me without difficulty. Then she wishes me to understand that she despises also my tender affection for her, since she places me in a position to show that affection for another person. Now, dearest, you speak without reason, for the relations between you two are of an entirely different nature. Your mutual love is nothing but trifling nonsense, mere illusion of the senses. The pleasures which you enjoy together are not exclusive. To become jealous of one another it would be necessary that one of you two should feel a similar affection for another woman, but M.M. could no more be angry at your having a lover than you could be so yourself if she had one, provided, however, that the lover should not belong to the other. But that is precisely our case, and you are mistaken. We are not angry at your loving us both equally. Have I not written to you that I would most willingly give you my place near M.M.? Then you must believe that I despise you likewise. My darling, that wish of yours to give me up your place, when you did not know that I was happy with M.M., arose from your friendship rather than from your love, and for the present I must be glad to see that your friendship is stronger than your love, but I have every reason to be sorry when M.M. feels the same. I love her without any possibility of marrying her. Do you understand me, dearest? As for you, knowing that you must be my wife, I am certain of our love, which practice will animate with new life. It is not the same with M.M. That love cannot spring up again into existence. Is it not humiliating for me to have inspired her with nothing but a passing fancy? I understand your adoration for her very well. She has initiated you into all her mysteries, and you owe her eternal friendship and everlasting gratitude. It was midnight, and we went on wasting our time in this desultory conversation, when the prudent and careful servant brought us an excellent supper. I could not touch anything. My heart was too full, but my dear little wife supped with a good appetite. I could not help laughing when I saw a salad of whites of eggs, and C.C. thought it extraordinary because all the yolks had been removed. In her innocence she could not understand the intention of the person who had ordered the supper. As I looked at her I was compelled to acknowledge that she had improved in beauty. In fact C.C. was remarkably beautiful, yet I remained cold by her side. I have always thought that there is no merit in being faithful to the person we truly love. Two hours before daylight we resumed our seats near the fire, and C.C., seeing how dull I was, was delicately attentive to me. She attempted no allurement. All her movements wore the stamp of the most decent reserve, and her conversation, tender in its expressions, and perfectly easy, never conveyed the shadow of a reproach for my coolness. Towards the end of our long conversation she asked me what she should say to her friend on her return to the convent. My dear M.M. expects to see me full of joy and gratitude for the generous present she thought she was making me by giving me this night. But what shall I tell her? The whole truth. Do not keep from her a single word of our conversation as far as your memory will serve you, and tell her especially that she has made me miserable for a long time. No, for I should cause her too great a sorrow. She loves you dearly and cherishes the locket which contains your likeness. I mean, on the contrary, to do all I can to bring peace between you two, and I must succeed before long because my friend is not guilty of any wrong, and you only feel some spite, although with no cause. I will send you my letter by Laura unless you promise me to go and fetch it yourself at her house. Your letters will always be dear to me, but, mark my words, M.M. will not enter into any explanation. She will believe you in everything, except in one. I suppose you mean our passing a whole night together as innocently as if we were brother and sister. If she knows you as well as I do, she will indeed think it most wonderful. In that case you may tell her the contrary, if you like. Nothing of the sort. I hate falsehoods, and I will certainly never utter one in such a case as this. It would be very wrong. I do not love you less on that account, my darling, although during this long night you have not condescended to give me the slightest proof of your love. Believe me, dearest, I am sick from unhappiness. I love you with my whole soul, but I am in such a situation that... What? You are weeping with my love? Oh, I entreat you, spare my heart. I am so sorry to have told you such a thing, but I can assure you I never meant to make you unhappy. I am sure that in a quarter of an hour M.M. will be crying likewise. The alarm struck, and having no longer any hope of seeing M.M. come to justify herself, I kissed C.C. I gave her the key of the casino, requesting her to return it for me to M.M. And my young friend, having gone back to the convent, I put on my mask and left the casino. End of Chapter 19, Part 2, Recording by Joelle Peebles. Chapter 20 of the Memoirs of Jack 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 Joelle Peebles. The Memoirs of Jack Casanova, Volume 2. Paris in Prison by Jacomo Casanova. Translated by Arthur Machin. Episode 8. Convent Affairs. Chapter 20. I am in danger of perishing in the lagoons. Illness. Letters from C.C. and M.M. The quarrel is made up. Meeting at the Casino of Murn, I learn the name of M.M.'s friend and consent to give him a supper at my casino in the company of our common mistress. The weather was fearful. The wind was blowing fiercely and it was bitterly cold. When I reached the shore, I looked for a gondola. I called the gondoliers, but in contravention to the police regulations, there was neither gondola nor gondolier. What was I to do? Dressed in light linen, I was hardly in a fit state to walk along the wharf for an hour in such weather. I should most likely have gone back to the casino if I had had the key, but I was paying the penalty of the foolish spite which had made me give it up. The wind almost carried me off my feet and there was no house that I could enter to get a shelter. I had in my pockets three hundred Philips that I had one in the evening and a purse full of gold. I had therefore every reason to fear the thieves of Murn, a very dangerous class of cutthroats, determined murderers who enjoyed and abused a certain impunity, because they had some privileges granted to them by the government on account of the services they rendered in the manufactures of looking-glasses and in the glassworks which are numerous on the island. In order to prevent their emigration the government had granted them the freedom of Venice. I dreaded meeting a pair of them who would have stripped me of everything at least. I had not by chance with me the knife which all honest men must carry to defend their lives in my dear country. I was truly in an unpleasant predicament. I was thus painfully situated when I thought I could see a light through the crevices of a small house. I knocked modestly against the shutter. A voice called out. Who was knocking? And at the same moment the shutter was pushed open. What do you want? asked a man, rather astonished at my costume. I explained my predicament in a few words and giving him one sequin I begged his permission to shelter myself under his roof. Convinced by my sequin rather than my words he opened the door. I went in and promising him another sequin for his trouble. I requested him to get me a gondola to take me to Venice. He dressed himself hurriedly, thanking God for that piece of good fortune, and went out assuring me that he would soon get me a gondola. I remained alone in a miserable room in which all his family, sleeping together in a large ill-looking bed, were staring at me in consequence of my extraordinary costume. In half an hour the good man returned to announce that the gondoliers were at the wharf, but that they wanted to be paid in advance. I raised an objection, gave a sequin to the man for his trouble, and went to the wharf. The sight of two strong gondoliers made me get into the gondola without anxiety, and we left the shore without being much disturbed by the wind. But when we had gone beyond the island the storm attacked us with such fury that I thought myself lost. For, although a good swimmer, I was not sure I had strength enough to resist the violence of the waves and swim to the shore. I ordered the men to go back to the island, but they answered that I had not to deal with a couple of cowards, and that I had no occasion to be afraid. I knew the disposition of our gondoliers, and I made up my mind to say no more. But the wind increased in violence, the foaming waves rushed into the gondola, and my two rowers, in spite of their vigor and of their courage, could no longer guide it. We were only within one hundred yards of the mouth of the Jesuit's canal, when a terrible gust of wind threw one of the bar corolls into the sea. Most fortunately he contrived to hold by the gondola and to get in again, but he had lost his oar, and while he was securing another, the gondola had tacked and had already gone a considerable distance abreast. The position called for immediate decision, and I had no wish to take my supper with Neptune. I threw a handful of phileps into the gondola, and ordered the gondoliers to throw overboard the fels which covered the boat. The ringing of money as much as the imminent danger ensured instant obedience, and then the wind having less hold upon us. My brave boatman showed Aeolus that their efforts could conquer him. For in less than five minutes we shot into the beggar's canal, and I reached the Bragedan palace. I went to bed at once, covering myself heavily in order to regain my natural heat. But sleep, which alone could have restored me to health, would not visit me. Five or six hours afterwards, matured to Bragedan, and his two inseparable friends paid me a visit, and found me raving with fever. That did not prevent my respectable protector from laughing at the sight of the costume of Perot lying on the sofa. After congratulating me upon having escaped with my life out of such a bad predicament, they left me alone. In the evening I perspired so profusely that my bed had to be changed. The next day my fever and delirium increased, and two days after the fever having abated, I found myself almost crippled and suffering fearfully with lumbago. I felt that nothing could relieve me but a strict regimen, and I bore the evil patiently. Early on the Wednesday morning, Laura, the faithful messenger, called on me. I was still in my bed. I told her that I could neither read nor write, and I asked her to come again the next day. She placed on the table near my bed the parcel she had for me, and she left me knowing what had occurred to me sufficiently to enable her to inform C.C. of the state in which I was. Feeling a little better towards the evening, I ordered my servant to lock me in my room, and I opened C.C.'s letter. The first thing I found in the parcel and which caused me great pleasure was the key of the casino which she returned to me. I had already repented having given it up, and I was beginning to feel that I had been in the wrong. It acted like a refreshing balm upon me. The second thing, not less dear after the return of the precious key, was a letter from M.M., the seal of which I was not long in breaking, and I read the following lines. The particulars which you have read or which you are going to read in the letter of my friend will cause you, I hope, to forget the fault which I have committed so innocently, that I trusted, on the contrary, that you would be very happy. I saw all and heard all, and would not have gone away without the key, if I had not most unfortunately fallen asleep an hour before your departure. Take back the key and come to the casino tomorrow night, since Heaven has saved you from the storm. Your love may perhaps give you the right to complain but not to ill-treat a woman who certainly has not given you any mark of contempt. I afterwards read the letter of my dear C.C., and I will give a copy of it here, because I think it will prove interesting. I entreat you, dear husband, not to send back this key, unless you have become the most cruel of men, unless you find pleasure in tormenting two women who love you ardently, and who love you for yourself only. Knowing your excellent heart I trust you will go to the casino tomorrow evening and make it up with M.M., who cannot go there tonight. You will see that you are in the wrong, dearest, and that far from despising you my dear friend loves you only. In the meantime, let me tell you what you are not acquainted with and what you must be anxious to know. Immediately after you had gone away in that fearful storm which caused me such anguish, and just as I was preparing to return to the convent, I was much surprised to see standing before me my dear M.M., who from some hiding-place had heard all you had said. She had several times been on the point of showing herself, but she had always been prevented by the fear of coming out of season, and thus stopping a reconciliation which she thought was inevitable between two fond lovers. Unfortunately sleep had conquered her before her departure, and she only woke when the alarm struck, too late to detain you, for you had rushed with the haste of a man who was flying from some terrible danger. As soon as I saw her I gave her the key, although I did not know what it meant, and my friend, heaving a deep sigh, told me that she would explain everything as soon as we were safe in her room. We left the casino in a dreadful storm, trembling for your safety and not thinking of our own danger. As soon as we were in the convent I resumed my usual costume, and M.M. went to bed. I took a seat near her, and this is what she told me. When you left your ring in my hands, to go to your aunt, who had sent for you, I examined it with so much attention that at last I suspected the small blue spot to be connected with the secret spring. I took a pin, succeeded in removing the top part, and I cannot express the joy I felt when I saw that we both loved the same man. But no more can I give you an idea of my sorrow when I thought that I was encroaching upon your rights. Delighted, however, with my discovery, I immediately conceived a plan which would procure you the pleasure of supping with him. I closed the ring again and returned it to you telling you at the same time that I had not been able to discover anything. I was then truly the happiest of women, knowing your heart, knowing that you were aware of the love of your lover for me, since I had innocently showed you his portrait, and happy in the idea that you were not jealous of me. I would have despised myself if I had entertained any feelings different from your own. The more so that your rights over him were by far stronger than mine. As for the mysterious manner in which you always kept from me the name of your husband, I easily guessed that you were only obeying his orders, and I admired your noble sentiments and the goodness of your heart. In my opinion your lover was afraid of losing us both, if we found out that neither the one nor the other of us possessed his whole heart. I could not express my deep sorrow when I thought that after you had seen me in possession of his portrait you continued to act in the same manner towards me, although you could not any longer hope to be the sole object of his love. Then I had but one idea, to prove to both of you that M. M. is worthy of your affection, of your friendship, of your esteem. I was indeed thoroughly happy when I thought that the felicity of our trio would be increased a hundredfold, for is it not an unbearable misery to keep a secret from the being we adore? I made you take my place, and I thought that proceeding a masterpiece. You allowed me to dress you as a nun, and with a compliance which proves your confidence in me you went to my casino without knowing where you were going. As soon as you had landed the gondola came back, and I went to a place well known to our friend, from which without being seen I could follow all your movements and hear everything you said. I was the author of the play. It was natural that I should witness it, the more so that I felt certain of seeing and hearing nothing that would not be very agreeable to me. I reached the casino a quarter of an hour after you, and I cannot tell you my delightful surprise when I saw that dear Perot, who had amused us so much, and whom we had not recognized. But I was fated to feel no other pleasure than that of his appearance. Fear, surprise, and anxiety overwhelmed me at once when I saw the effect produced upon him by the disappointment of his expectation, and I felt unhappy. Our lover took the thing wrongly, and he went away in despair. He loves me still, but if he thinks of me it is only to try to forget me. Alas! he will succeed but too soon. By sending back that key he proves that he will never again go to the casino. Fatal night, when my only wish was to minister to the happiness of three persons. How is it that the very reverse of my wish has occurred? It will kill me, dear friend, unless you contrive to make him understand reason, for I feel that without him I cannot live. You must have the means of writing to him. You know him. You know his name. In the name of all goodness send back this key to him with a letter to persuade him to come to the casino tomorrow or on the following day. If it is only to speak to me, and I hope to convince him of my love and my innocence. Rest to-day, dearest, but to-morrow write to him, tell him the whole truth, take pity on your poor friend, and forgive her for loving your lover. I shall write a few lines myself. You will enclose them in your letter. It is my fault if he no longer loves you. You ought to hate me, and yet you are generous enough to love me. I adore you. I have seen his tears. I have seen how well his soul can love. I know him now. I could not have believed that men were able to love so much. I have passed a terrible night. Do not think I am angry, dear friend, because you confided to him that we love one another like two lovers. It does not displease me, and with him it was known indiscretion, because his mind is as free of prejudices as his heart is good. Tears were choking her. I tried to console her, and I most willingly promised her to write to you. She never closed her eyes throughout that day, but I slept soundly for four hours. When we got up we found the convent full of bad news, which interested us a great deal more than people imagined. It was reported that, an hour before daybreak, a fishing boat had been lost in the lagoon, that two gondolas had been capsized, and that the people in them had perished. You may imagine our anguish. We dared not ask any questions, but it was just the hour at which you had left me, and we entertained the darkest for boatings. We returned to our room where M. M. fainted away. More courageous than she is, I told her that you were a good swimmer, but I could not allay her anxiety, and she went to bed with the feverish chill. Just at that moment my aunt, who was of a very cheerful disposition, came in laughing to tell us that during the storm the perot who had made us laugh so much had had a narrow escape of being drowned. Ah, the poor perot, I exclaimed. Tell us all about him, dear aunt. I am very glad he was saved. Who is he? Do you know? Oh, yes, she answered. Everything is known, for he was taken home by our gondoliers. One of them has just told me that perot, having spent the night at the Biotti ball, did not find any gondola to return to Venice, and that our gondoliers took him for a sequin. One of the men fell into the sea, but then the brave perot, throwing handfuls of silver upon the zinia, pitched the fels overboard, and the wind, having less hold, they reached Venice safely through the beggar's canal. This morning the lucky gondoliers divided thirty phileps which they found in the gondola, and they have been fortunate enough to pick up their fels. Perot will remember Marin and the ball at Biotti. The man says that he is the son of Monsieur de Bragedin, the procurator's brother. He was taken to the palace of that nobleman, nearly dead from cold, for he was dressed in light calico and had no cloak. When my aunt had left us we looked at one another for several minutes without uttering a word, but we felt that the good news had brought back life to us. M. M. asked me whether you were really the son of Monsieur de Bragedin. It might be so, I said to her, but his name does not show my lover to be the bastard of that nobleman, and still, less his legitimate child, for Monsieur de Bragedin was never married. I should be very sorry, said M. M., if he were his son. I thought it right, then, to tell her your true name, and of the application made to my father by Monsieur de Bragedin for my hand. The consequence of which was that I had been shut up in the convent. Therefore, my own darling, your little wife has no longer any secret to keep from M. M., and I hope you will not accuse me of indiscretion, for it is better that our dear friend should know all the truth than only half of it. We have been greatly amused, as you may well suppose, by the certainty with which people say that you spent all the night at the Briotti ball, when people do not know everything they invent, and what might be is often accepted in the place of what is, in reality. Sometimes it proves very fortunate. At all events, the news did a great deal of good to my friend, who is now much better. She has had an excellent night, and the hope of seeing you at the casino has restored all her beauty. She has read this letter three or four times, and has smothered me with kisses. I long to give her the letter which you are going to write to her. The messenger will wait for it. Perhaps I shall see you again at the casino, and in a better temper, I hope, at you. It did not require much argument to conquer me. When I had finished the letter, I was at once the admirer of C. C., and the ardent lover of M. M. But alas, although the fever had left me, I was crippled. Certain that Laura would come again early the next morning, I could not refrain from writing to both of them a short letter. It is true, but long enough to assure them that reason had again taken possession of my poor brain. I wrote to C. C. that she had done right in telling her friend my name, the more so that, as I did not attend their church any longer, I had no reason to make a mystery of it. In everything else, I freely acknowledged myself in the wrong, and I promised her that I would atone by giving M. M. the strongest possible proofs of my repentance as soon as I could go again to her casino. This is the letter that I wrote to my adorable nun. I gave C. C. the key of your casino to be returned to you, my own charming friend, because I believed myself trifled with and despised of malice of forethought by the woman I worship. In my error I thought myself unworthy of presenting myself before your eyes, and in spite of love horror made me shudder. Such was the effect produced upon me by an act which would have appeared to me admirable if my self-love had not blinded me and upset my reason. But, dearest, to admire it would have been necessary for my mind to be as noble as yours, and I have proved how far it is from being so. I am inferior to you in all things except in passionate love, and I will prove it to you at our next meeting, when I will beg on my knees a generous pardon. Believe me, beloved creature, if I wish ardently to recover my health it is only to have it in my power to prove by my love a thousand times increased how ashamed I am of my errors. My painful lumbago has alone prevented me from answering your short note yesterday to express to you my regrets and the love which has been enhanced in me by your generosity, alas, so badly rewarded. I can assure you that in the lagoons with death staring me in the face I regretted no one but you, nothing but having outraged you. But in the fearful danger then threatening me I only saw punishment from heaven. If I had not truly sent back to you the key of the casino I should most likely have returned there, and should have avoided the sorrow as well as the physical pains which I am now suffering as an expiation. I thank you a thousand times for having recalled me to myself, and you may be certain that for the future I will keep better control over myself. Nothing shall make me doubt your love. But, darling, what do you say of C.C.? Is she not an incarnate angel who can be compared to no one but you? You love us both equally. I am the only one, weak and faulty, and you make me ashamed of myself. Yet I feel that I would give my life for her as well as for you. I feel curious about one thing, but I cannot trust it to paper. You will satisfy that curiosity the first time I shall be able to go to the casino before two days at the earliest. I will let you know two days beforehand. In the meantime I entreat you to think a little of me and to be certain of my devoted love, adieu. The next morning Laura found me sitting up in bed and in a fair way to recover my health. I requested her to tell C.C. that I felt much better, and I gave her the letter I had written. She had brought me one from my dear little wife, in which I found enclosed a note from M.M. Those two letters were full of tender expressions of love, anxiety for my health, and ardent prayers for my recovery. Six days afterwards, feeling much stronger, I went to Murrin, where the keeper of the casino handed me a letter from M.M. She wrote to me how impatient she was for my complete recovery and how desirous she was to see me in possession of her casino, with all the privileges which she hoped I would retain forever. Let me know, I entreat you, she added, when we are likely to meet again, either at Murrin or in Venice, as you please, be quite certain that whenever we meet we shall be alone and without a witness. I answered at once telling her that we would meet the day after the morrow at her casino because I wanted to receive her loving absolution in the very spot where I had outraged the most generous of women. I was longing to see her again for I was ashamed of my cruel injustice towards her, and panting to atone for my wrongs. Knowing her disposition and reflecting calmly upon what had taken place, it was now evident to me that what she had done, very far from being a mark of contempt, was the refined effort of a love wholly devoted to me. Since she had found out that I was the lover of her young friend, could she imagine that my heart belonged only to herself? In the same way that her love for me did not prevent her from being compliant with the ambassador, she admitted the possibility of my being the same with C.C. She overlooked the difference of constitution between the two sexes and the privileges enjoyed by women. Now that age has whitened my hair and deadened the ardor of my senses, my imagination does not take such a high flight, and I think differently. I am conscious that my beautiful nuns sinned against womanly reserve and modesty, the two most beautiful uponages of the fair sex, but if that unique, or at least rare, woman was guilty of an eccentricity which I then thought of virtue. She was at all events exempt from that fearful venom called jealousy, an unhappy passion which devours the miserable being who was laboring under it, and destroys the love that gave it birth. Two days afterwards, on the 4th of February 1754, I had the supreme felicity of finding myself again alone with my beloved mistress. She wore the dress of a nun. As we both felt guilty, the moment we saw each other by a spontaneous movement, we fell both on our knees, folded in each other's arms. We had both ill-treated love. She had treated him like a child. I had adored him after the fashion of a Jansenist. But where could we have found the proper language for the excuses we had to address to each other for the mutual forgiveness we had to entreat and to grant? Kisses, that mute yet expressive language, that delicate voluptuous contact which sends sentiment coursing rapidly through the veins, which expresses at the same time the feeling of the heart and the impressions of the mind. That language was the only one we had recourse to, and without having uttered one syllable, dear reader, oh how well we agreed. Both overwhelmed with emotion, longing to give one another some proofs of the sincerity of our reconciliation and of the ardent fire which was consuming us. We rose without unclasping our arms, and falling, a most amorous group, on the nearest sofa, we remained there until the heaving of a deep sigh which we would not have stopped even if we had known that it was to be the last. Thus was completed our happy reconciliation, and the calm infused into the soul by contentment burst into a hearty laugh when we noticed that I had kept on my cloak and my mask. After we had enjoyed our mirth I unmasked myself and I asked her whether it was quite true that no one had witnessed our reconciliation. She took up one of the candlesticks and seizing my hand. Come, she said. She led me to the other end of the room before a large cupboard which I had already suspected of containing the secret. She opened it, and when she had moved a sliding plank I saw a door through which we entered a pretty closet furnished with everything necessary to a person wishing to pass a few hours there. Near the sofa was a sliding panel. M. M. removed it, and through twenty holes placed at a distance from each other I saw every part of the room in which nature and love had performed for our curious friend a play in six acts during which I did not think he had occasion to be dissatisfied with the actors. Now, said M. M., I am going to satisfy the curiosity which you were prudent enough not to trust to paper. But you cannot guess. Silence, dearest. Love would not be of divine origin. Did he not possess the faculty of divination? He knows all, and here is the proof. Do you not wish to know whether my friend was with me during the fatal night which has cost me so many tears? You have guessed rightly. Well, then, he was with me, and you must not be angry, for you then completed your conquest of him. He admired your character, your love, your sentiments, your honesty. He could not help expressing his astonishment at the rectitude of my instinct, or his approval of the passion I felt for you. It was he who consoled me in the morning, assuring me that you would certainly come back to me as soon as you knew my real feelings, the loyalty of my intentions, and my good faith. But you must often have fallen asleep, for unless excited by some powerful interest it is impossible to pass eight hours in darkness and in silence. We were moved by the deepest interest. Besides, we were in darkness only when we kept these holes open. The plank was on during our supper, and we were listening in religious silence to your slightest whisper. The interest which kept my friend awake was perhaps greater than mine. He told me that he never had had before a better opportunity of studying the human heart, and that you must have passed the most painful night. He truly pitted you. We were delighted with C.C., for it is indeed wonderful that a young girl of fifteen should reason as she did to justify my conduct, without any other weapons but those given her by nature and truth. She must have the soul of an angel. If you ever marry her, you will have the most heavenly wife. I shall, of course, feel miserable if I lose her, but your happiness will make amends for all. Do you know, dearest, that I cannot understand how you could fall in love with me after having known her any more than I can conceive how she does not hate me ever since she has discovered that I have robbed her of your heart? My dear C.C. has truly something divine in her disposition. Do you know why she confided to you her barren loves with me? Because she has told me herself. She wished to ease her conscience, thinking that she was in some measure unfaithful to you. Does she think herself bound to be entirely faithful to me with the knowledge she has now of my own unfaithfulness? She is particularly delicate and conscientious, and though she believes herself truly your wife, she does not think that she has any right to control your actions, but she believes herself bound to give you an account of all she does. Noble girl. The prudent wife of the doorkeeper, having brought the supper, we sat down to the well-supplied table, mm remarked that I had become much thinner. The pains of the body do not fatten a man, I said, and the sufferings of the mind emaciate him, but we have suffered sufficiently, and we must be wise enough never to recall anything which can be painful to us. You are quite right, my love. The instants that man is compelled to give up to misfortune or to suffering are as many moments stolen from his life, but he doubles his existence when he has the talent of multiplying his pleasures, no matter of what nature they may be. We amuse ourselves in talking over past dangers, Perot's disguise, and the ball at Briotti, where she had been told that another Perot had made his appearance. mm wondered at the extraordinary effect of a disguise, for, she said to me, The Perot in the parlor of the convent seemed to me taller and thinner than you, if chance had not made you take the convent, gondola, if you had not had the strange idea of assuming the disguise of Perot, I should not have known who you were, for my friends in the convent would not have been interested in you. I was delighted when I heard that you were not a patrician, as I feared, because, had you been one, I might, in time, have run some great danger. I knew very well what she had to fear but pretending complete ignorance. I cannot conceive, I said, what danger you might run on account of my being a patrician. My darling, I cannot speak to you openly, unless you give me your word to do what I am going to ask you. How could I hesitate my love in doing anything to please you, provided my honor is not implicated? Have we not now everything in common? Speak idle of my heart, tell me your reasons, and rely upon my love. It is the guarantee of my ready compliance in everything that can give you pleasure. Very well, I want you to give a supper in your casino to me and my friend who is dying to make your acquaintance. And I foresee that after supper you will leave me to go with him. You must feel that propriety compels me to do so. Your friend already knows, I suppose, who I am. I thought it was right to tell him, because if I had not told him he could not have entertained the hope of supping with you, and especially at your house. I understand. I guess your friend is one of the foreign ambassadors. Precisely. But may I hope that he will so far honor me as to throw up his incognito? That is understood. I shall introduce him to you according to accepted forms, telling his name and his political position. Then it is all for the best, darling. How could you suppose that I would have any difficulty in procuring you that pleasure, when on the contrary nothing could please me more myself? Name the day, and be quite certain that I shall anxiously look for it. I should have been sure of your compliance, if you had not given me cause to doubt it. It is a home thrust, but I deserve it. And I hope it will not make you angry. Now I am happy. Our friend is matured de Bernis, the French ambassador. He will come masked, and as soon as he shows his features I shall present him to you. Recollect that you must treat him as my lover, but you must not appear to know that he is aware of our intimacy. I understand that very well, and you shall have every reason to be pleased with my urbanity. The idea of that supper is delightful to me, and I hope that the reality will be as agreeable. You were quite right, my love, to dread my being a patrician, for in that case the state inquisitors, who very often think of nothing but of making a show of their zeal, would not have failed to meddle with us, and the mere idea of the possible consequences makes me shudder. I, under the leads, you dishonored the abyss, the convent. Good God! Yes, if you had told me what you thought I would have given you my name, and I could have done so all the more easily that my reserve was only caused by the fear of being known, and of CeCe being taken to another convent by her father. But can you appoint a day for the supper? I long to have it all arranged. Today is the fourth, well then, in four days. That will be the eighth? Exactly so. We will go to your casino after the second ballet. Give me all necessary particulars to enable us to find the house without inquiring from anyone. I sat down, and I wrote down the most exact particulars to find the casino either by land or by water. Delighted with the prospect of such a party of pleasure, I asked my mistress to go to bed, but I remarked to her that, being convalescent and having made a hearty supper, I should be very likely to pay my first homages to Morpheus. Yielding to the circumstances, she set the alarm for ten o'clock, and we went to bed in the alcove. As soon as we woke up, Love claimed our attention, and he had no cause of complaint, but towards midnight we fell asleep, our lips fastened together, and we found ourselves in that position in the morning when we opened our eyes. Although there was no time to lose, we could not make up our minds to part without making one more offering to Venus. I remained in the casino after the departure of my divinity, and slept until noon. As soon as I had dressed myself, I returned to Venus, and my first care was to give notice to my cook, so that the supper of the 8th of February should be worthy of the guests and worthy of me.