An Unlucky Night I Fall in Love with the Two Sisters, and Forget Angela

An Unlucky Night I Fall in Love with the Two Sisters, and
Forget Angela–A Ball at My House–Juliette’s Humiliation–
My Return to Pasian–Lucie’s Misfortune–A Propitious Storm

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On my reappearance, Madame Orio told me, with many heart-felt thanks,
that I must for the future consider myself as a privileged and welcome
friend, and the evening passed off very pleasantly. As the hour for
supper drew near, I excused myself so well that Madame Orio could not
insist upon my accepting her invitation to stay. Marton rose to light me
out of the room, but her aunt, believing Nanette to be my favourite, gave
her such an imperative order to accompany me that she was compelled to
obey. She went down the stairs rapidly, opened and closed the street door
very noisily, and putting her light out, she reentered the sitting room,
leaving me in darkness. I went upstairs softly: when I reached the third
landing I found the chamber of the two sisters, and, throwing myself upon
a sofa, I waited patiently for the rising of the star of my happiness. An
hour passed amidst the sweetest dreams of my imagination; at last I hear
the noise of the street door opening and closing, and, a few minutes
after, the two sisters come in with my Angela. I draw her towards me, and
caring for nobody else, I keep up for two full hours my conversation with
her. The clock strikes midnight; I am pitied for having gone so late
supperless, but I am shocked at such an idea; I answer that, with such
happiness as I am enjoying, I can suffer from no human want. I am told
that I am a prisoner, that the key of the house door is under the aunt’s
pillow, and that it is opened only by herself as she goes in the morning
to the first mass. I wonder at my young friends imagining that such news
can be anything but delightful to me. I express all my joy at the
certainty of passing the next five hours with the beloved mistress of my
heart. Another hour is spent, when suddenly Nanette begins to laugh,
Angela wants to know the reason, and Marton whispering a few words to
her, they both laugh likewise. This puzzles me. In my turn, I want to
know what causes this general laughter, and at last Nanette, putting on
an air of anxiety, tells me that they have no more candle, and that in a
few minutes we shall be in the dark. This is a piece of news particularly
agreeable to me, but I do not let my satisfaction appear on my
countenance, and saying how truly I am sorry for their sake, I propose
that they should go to bed and sleep quietly under my respectful
guardianship. My proposal increases their merriment.

“What can we do in the dark?”

“We can talk.”

We were four; for the last three hours we had been talking, and I was the
hero of the romance. Love is a great poet, its resources are
inexhaustible, but if the end it has in view is not obtained, it feels
weary and remains silent. My Angela listened willingly, but little
disposed to talk herself, she seldom answered, and she displayed good
sense rather than wit. To weaken the force of my arguments, she was often
satisfied with hurling at me a proverb, somewhat in the fashion of the
Romans throwing the catapult. Every time that my poor hands came to the
assistance of love, she drew herself back or repulsed me. Yet, in spite
of all, I went on talking and using my hands without losing courage, but
I gave myself up to despair when I found that my rather artful arguing
astounded her without bringing conviction to her heart, which was only
disquieted, never softened. On the other hand, I could see with
astonishment upon their countenances the impression made upon the two
sisters by the ardent speeches I poured out to Angela. This metaphysical
curve struck me as unnatural, it ought to have been an angle; I was then,
unhappily for myself, studying geometry. I was in such a state that,
notwithstanding the cold, I was perspiring profusely. At last the light
was nearly out, and Nanette took it away.

The moment we were in the dark, I very naturally extended my arms to
seize her whom I loved; but I only met with empty space, and I could not
help laughing at the rapidity with which Angela had availed herself of
the opportunity of escaping me. For one full hour I poured out all the
tender, cheerful words that love inspired me with, to persuade her to
come back to me; I could only suppose that it was a joke to tease me. But
I became impatient.

“The joke,” I said, “has lasted long enough; it is foolish, as I could
not run after you, and I am surprised to hear you laugh, for your strange
conduct leads me to suppose that you are making fun of me. Come and take
your seat near me, and if I must speak to you without seeing you let my
hands assure me that I am not addressing my words to the empty air. To
continue this game would be an insult to me, and my love does not deserve
such a return.”

“Well, be calm. I will listen to every word you may say, but you must
feel that it would not be decent for me to place myself near you in this
dark room.”

“Do you want me to stand where I am until morning?”

“Lie down on the bed, and go to sleep.”

“In wonder, indeed, at your thinking me capable of doing so in the state
I am in. Well, I suppose we must play at blind man’s buff.”

Thereupon, I began to feel right and left, everywhere, but in vain.
Whenever I caught anyone it always turned out to be Nanette or Marton,
who at once discovered themselves, and I, stupid Don Quixote, instantly
would let them go! Love and prejudice blinded me, I could not see how
ridiculous I was with my respectful reserve. I had not yet read the
anecdotes of Louis XIII, king of France, but I had read Boccacio. I kept
on seeking in vain, reproaching her with her cruelty, and entreating her
to let me catch her; but she would only answer that the difficulty of
meeting each other was mutual. The room was not large, and I was enraged
at my want of success.

Tired and still more vexed, I sat down, and for the next hour I told the
history of Roger, when Angelica disappears through the power of the magic
ring which the loving knight had so imprudently given her:

‘Cosi dicendo, intorno a la fortuna
Brancolando n’andava come cieco.
O quante volte abbraccio l’aria vana
Speyando la donzella abbracciar seco’.

Angela had not read Ariosto, but Nanette had done so several times. She
undertook the defence of Angelica, and blamed the simplicity of Roger,
who, if he had been wise, would never have trusted the ring to a
coquette. I was delighted with Nanette, but I was yet too much of a
novice to apply her remarks to myself.

Only one more hour remained, and I was to leave before the break of day,
for Madame Orio would have died rather than give way to the temptation of
missing the early mass. During that hour I spoke to Angela, trying to
convince her that she ought to come and sit by me. My soul went through
every gradation of hope and despair, and the reader cannot possibly
realize it unless he has been placed in a similar position. I exhausted
the most convincing arguments; then I had recourse to prayers, and even
to tears; but, seeing all was useless, I gave way to that feeling of
noble indignation which lends dignity to anger. Had I not been in the
dark, I might, I truly believe, have struck the proud monster, the cruel
girl, who had thus for five hours condemned me to the most distressing
suffering. I poured out all the abuse, all the insulting words that
despised love can suggest to an infuriated mind; I loaded her with the
deepest curses; I swore that my love had entirely turned into hatred,
and, as a finale, I advised her to be careful, as I would kill her the
moment I would set my eyes on her.

My invectives came to an end with the darkness. At the first break of
day, and as soon as I heard the noise made by the bolt and the key of the
street door, which Madame Orio was opening to let herself out, that she
might seek in the church the repose of which her pious soul was in need,
I got myself ready and looked for my cloak and for my hat. But how can I
ever portray the consternation in which I was thrown when, casting a sly
glance upon the young friends, I found the three bathed in tears! In my
shame and despair I thought of committing suicide, and sitting down
again, I recollected my brutal speeches, and upbraided myself for having
wantonly caused them to weep. I could not say one word; I felt choking;
at last tears came to my assistance, and I gave way to a fit of crying
which relieved me. Nanette then remarked that her aunt would soon return
home; I dried my eyes, and, not venturing another look at Angela or at
her friends, I ran away without uttering a word, and threw myself on my
bed, where sleep would not visit my troubled mind.

At noon, M. de Malipiero, noticing the change in my countenance, enquired
what ailed me, and longing to unburden my heart, I told him all that had
happened. The wise old man did not laugh at my sorrow, but by his
sensible advice he managed to console me and to give me courage. He was
in the same predicament with the beautiful Therese. Yet he could not help
giving way to his merriment when at dinner he saw me, in spite of my
grief, eat with increased appetite; I had gone without my supper the
night before; he complimented me upon my happy constitution.

I was determined never to visit Madame Orio’s house, and on that very day
I held an argument in metaphysics, in which I contended that any being of
whom we had only an abstract idea, could only exist abstractedly, and I
was right; but it was a very easy task to give to my thesis an
irreligious turn, and I was obliged to recant. A few days afterwards I
went to Padua, where I took my degree of doctor ‘utroque jure’.

When I returned to Venice, I received a note from M. Rosa, who entreated
me to call upon Madame Orio; she wished to see me, and, feeling certain
of not meeting Angela, I paid her a visit the same evening. The two
graceful sisters were so kind, so pleasant, that they scattered to the
winds the shame I felt at seeing them after the fearful night I had
passed in their room two months before. The labours of writing my thesis
and passing my examination were of course sufficient excuses for Madame
Orio, who only wanted to reproach me for having remained so long away
from her house.

As I left, Nanette gave me a letter containing a note from Angela, the
contents of which ran as follows:

“If you are not afraid of passing another night with me you shall have no
reason to complain of me, for I love you, and I wish to hear from your
own lips whether you would still have loved me if I had consented to
become contemptible in your eyes.”

This is the letter of Nanette, who alone had her wits about her:

“M. Rosa having undertaken to bring you back to our house, I prepare
these few lines to let you know that Angela is in despair at having lost
you. I confess that the night you spent with us was a cruel one, but I do
not think that you did rightly in giving up your visits to Madame Orio.
If you still feel any love for Angela, I advise you to take your chances
once more. Accept a rendezvous for another night; she may vindicate
herself, and you will be happy. Believe me; come. Farewell!”

Those two letters afforded me much gratification, for I had it in my
power to enjoy my revenge by shewing to Angela the coldest contempt.
Therefore, on the following Sunday I went to Madame Orio’s house, having
provided myself with a smoked tongue and a couple of bottles of Cyprus
wine; but to my great surprise my cruel mistress was not there. Nanette
told me that she had met her at church in the morning, and that she would
not be able to come before supper-time. Trusting to that promise I
declined Madam Orio’s invitation, and before the family sat down to
supper I left the room as I had done on the former occasion, and slipped
upstairs. I longed to represent the character I had prepared myself for,
and feeling assured that Angela, even if she should prove less cruel,
would only grant me insignificant favours, I despised them in
anticipation, and resolved to be avenged.

After waiting three quarters of an hour the street door was locked, and a
moment later Nanette and Marton entered the room.

“Where is Angela?” I enquired.

“She must have been unable to come, or to send a message. Yet she knows
you are here.”

“She thinks she has made a fool of me; but I suspected she would act in
this way. You know her now. She is trifling with me, and very likely she
is now revelling in her triumph. She has made use of you to allure me in
the snare, and it is all the better for her; had she come, I meant to
have had my turn, and to have laughed at her.”

“Ah! you must allow me to have my doubts as to that.”

“Doubt me not, beautiful Nanette; the pleasant night we are going to
spend without her must convince you.”

“That is to say that, as a man of sense, you can accept us as a
makeshift; but you can sleep here, and my sister can lie with me on the
sofa in the next room.”

“I cannot hinder you, but it would be great unkindness on your part. At
all events, I do not intend to go to bed.”

“What! you would have the courage to spend seven hours alone with us?
Why, I am certain that in a short time you will be at a loss what to say,
and you will fall asleep.”

“Well, we shall see. In the mean-time here are provisions. You will not
be so cruel as to let me eat alone? Can you get any bread?”

“Yes, and to please you we must have a second supper.”

“I ought to be in love with you. Tell me, beautiful Nanette, if I were as
much attached to you as I was to Angela, would you follow her example and
make me unhappy?”

“How can you ask such a question? It is worthy of a conceited man. All I
can answer is, that I do not know what I would do.”

They laid the cloth, brought some bread, some Parmesan cheese and water,
laughing all the while, and then we went to work. The wine, to which they
were not accustomed, went to their heads, and their gaiety was soon
delightful. I wondered, as I looked at them, at my having been blind
enough not to see their merit.

After our supper, which was delicious, I sat between them, holding their
hands, which I pressed to my lips, asking them whether they were truly my
friends, and whether they approved of Angela’s conduct towards me. They
both answered that it had made them shed many tears. “Then let me,” I
said, “have for you the tender feelings of a brother, and share those
feelings yourselves as if you were my sisters; let us exchange, in all
innocence, proofs of our mutual affection, and swear to each other an
eternal fidelity.”

The first kiss I gave them was prompted by entirely harmless motives, and
they returned the kiss, as they assured me a few days afterwards only to
prove to me that they reciprocated my brotherly feelings; but those
innocent kisses, as we repeated them, very soon became ardent ones, and
kindled a flame which certainly took us by surprise, for we stopped, as
by common consent, after a short time, looking at each other very much
astonished and rather serious. They both left me without affectation, and
I remained alone with my thoughts. Indeed, it was natural that the
burning kisses I had given and received should have sent through me the
fire of passion, and that I should suddenly have fallen madly in love
with the two amiable sisters. Both were handsomer than Angela, and they
were superior to her–Nanette by her charming wit, Marton by her sweet
and simple nature; I could not understand how I had been so long in
rendering them the justice they deserved, but they were the innocent
daughters of a noble family, and the lucky chance which had thrown them
in my way ought not to prove a calamity for them. I was not vain enough
to suppose that they loved me, but I could well enough admit that my
kisses had influenced them in the same manner that their kisses had
influenced me, and, believing this to be the case, it was evident that,
with a little cunning on my part, and of sly practices of which they were
ignorant, I could easily, during the long night I was going to spend with
them, obtain favours, the consequences of which might be very positive.
The very thought made me shudder, and I firmly resolved to respect their
virtue, never dreaming that circumstances might prove too strong for me.

When they returned, I read upon their countenances perfect security and
satisfaction, and I quickly put on the same appearance, with a full
determination not to expose myself again to the danger of their kisses.

For one hour we spoke of Angela, and I expressed my determination never
to see her again, as I had every proof that she did not care for me. “She
loves you,” said the artless Marton; “I know she does, but if you do not
mean to marry her, you will do well to give up all intercourse with her,
for she is quite determined not to grant you even a kiss as long as you
are not her acknowledged suitor. You must therefore either give up the
acquaintance altogether, or make up your mind that she will refuse you
everything.”

“You argue very well, but how do you know that she loves me?”

“I am quite sure of it, and as you have promised to be our brother, I can
tell you why I have that conviction. When Angela is in bed with me, she
embraces me lovingly and calls me her dear abbe.”

The words were scarcely spoken when Nanette, laughing heartily, placed
her hand on her sister’s lips, but the innocent confession had such an
effect upon me that I could hardly control myself.

Marton told Nanette that I could not possibly be ignorant of what takes
place between young girls sleeping together.

“There is no doubt,” I said, “that everybody knows those trifles, and I
do not think, dear Nanette, that you ought to reproach your sister with
indiscretion for her friendly confidence.”

“It cannot be helped now, but such things ought not to be mentioned. If
Angela knew it!”

“She would be vexed, of course; but Marton has given me a mark of her
friendship which I never can forget. But it is all over; I hate Angela,
and I do not mean to speak to her any more! she is false, and she wishes
my ruin.”

“Yet, loving you, is she wrong to think of having you for her husband?”

“Granted that she is not; but she thinks only of her own self, for she
knows what I suffer, and her conduct would be very different if she loved
me. In the mean time, thanks to her imagination, she finds the means of
satisfying her senses with the charming Marton who kindly performs the
part of her husband.”

Nanette laughed louder, but I kept very serious, and I went on talking to
her sister, and praising her sincerity. I said that very likely, and to
reciprocate her kindness, Angela must likewise have been her husband, but
she answered, with a smile, that Angela played husband only to Nanette,
and Nanette could not deny it.

“But,” said I, “what name did Nanette, in her rapture, give to her
husband?”

“Nobody knows.”

“Do you love anyone, Nanette?”

“I do; but my secret is my own.”

This reserve gave me the suspicion that I had something to do with her
secret, and that Nanette was the rival of Angela. Such a delightful
conversation caused me to lose the wish of passing an idle night with two
girls so well made for love.

“It is very lucky,” I exclaimed, “that I have for you only feelings of
friendship; otherwise it would be very hard to pass the night without
giving way to the temptation of bestowing upon you proofs of my
affection, for you are both so lovely, so bewitching, that you would turn
the brains of any man.”

As I went on talking, I pretended to be somewhat sleepy; Nanette being
the first to notice it, said, “Go to bed without any ceremony, we will
lie down on the sofa in the adjoining room.”

“I would be a very poor-spirited fellow indeed, if I agreed to this; let
us talk; my sleepiness will soon pass off, but I am anxious about you. Go
to bed yourselves, my charming friends, and I will go into the next room.
If you are afraid of me, lock the door, but you would do me an injustice,
for I feel only a brother’s yearnings towards you.”

“We cannot accept such an arrangement,” said Nanette, “but let me
persuade you; take this bed.”

“I cannot sleep with my clothes on.”

“Undress yourself; we will not look at you.”

“I have no fear of it, but how could I find the heart to sleep, while on
my account you are compelled to sit up?”

“Well,” said Marton, “we can lie down, too, without undressing.”

“If you shew me such distrust, you will offend me. Tell me, Nanette, do
you think I am an honest man?”

“Most certainly.”

“Well, then, give me a proof of your good opinion; lie down near me in
the bed, undressed, and rely on my word of honour that I will not even
lay a finger upon you. Besides, you are two against one, what can you
fear? Will you not be free to get out of the bed in case I should not
keep quiet? In short, unless you consent to give me this mark of your
confidence in me, at least when I have fallen asleep, I cannot go to
bed.”

I said no more, and pretended to be very sleepy. They exchanged a few
words, whispering to each other, and Marton told me to go to bed, that
they would follow me as soon as I was asleep. Nanette made me the same
promise, I turned my back to them, undressed myself quickly, and wishing
them good night, I went to bed. I immediately pretended to fall asleep,
but soon I dozed in good earnest, and only woke when they came to bed.
Then, turning round as if I wished to resume my slumbers, I remained very
quiet until I could suppose them fast asleep; at all events, if they did
not sleep, they were at liberty to pretend to do so. Their backs were
towards me, and the light was out; therefore I could only act at random,
and I paid my first compliments to the one who was lying on my right, not
knowing whether she was Nanette or Marton. I find her bent in two, and
wrapped up in the only garment she had kept on. Taking my time, and
sparing her modesty, I compel her by degrees to acknowledge her defeat,
and convince her that it is better to feign sleep and to let me proceed.
Her natural instincts soon working in concert with mine, I reach the
goal; and my efforts, crowned with the most complete success, leave me
not the shadow of a doubt that I have gathered those first-fruits to
which our prejudice makes us attach so great an importance. Enraptured at
having enjoyed my manhood completely and for the first time, I quietly
leave my beauty in order to do homage to the other sister. I find her
motionless, lying on her back like a person wrapped in profound and
undisturbed slumber. Carefully managing my advance, as if I were afraid
of waking her up, I begin by gently gratifying her senses, and I
ascertain the delightful fact that, like her sister, she is still in
possession of her maidenhood. As soon as a natural movement proves to me
that love accepts the offering, I take my measures to consummate the
sacrifice. At that moment, giving way suddenly to the violence of her
feelings, and tired of her assumed dissimulation, she warmly locks me in
her arms at the very instant of the voluptuous crisis, smothers me with
kisses, shares my raptures, and love blends our souls in the most
ecstatic enjoyment.

Guessing her to be Nanette, I whisper her name.

“Yes, I am Nanette,” she answers; “and I declare myself happy, as well as
my sister, if you prove yourself true and faithful.”

“Until death, my beloved ones, and as everything we have done is the work
of love, do not let us ever mention the name of Angela.”

After this, I begged that she would give us a light; but Marton, always
kind and obliging, got out of bed leaving us alone. When I saw Nanette in
my arms, beaming with love, and Marton near the bed, holding a candle,
with her eyes reproaching us with ingratitude because we did not speak to
her, who, by accepting my first caresses, had encouraged her sister to
follow her example, I realized all my happiness.

“Let us get up, my darlings,” said I, “and swear to each other eternal
affection.”

When we had risen we performed, all three together, ablutions which made
them laugh a good deal, and which gave a new impetus to the ardour of our
feelings. Sitting up in the simple costume of nature, we ate the remains
of our supper, exchanging those thousand trifling words which love alone
can understand, and we again retired to our bed, where we spent a most
delightful night giving each other mutual and oft-repeated proofs of our
passionate ardour. Nanette was the recipient of my last bounties, for
Madame Orio having left the house to go to church, I had to hasten my
departure, after assuring the two lovely sisters that they had
effectually extinguished whatever flame might still have flickered in my
heart for Angela. I went home and slept soundly until dinner-time.

M. de Malipiero passed a remark upon my cheerful looks and the dark
circles around my eyes, but I kept my own counsel, and I allowed him to
think whatever he pleased. On the following day I paid a visit to Madame
Orio, and Angela not being of the party, I remained to supper and retired
with M. Rosa. During the evening Nanette contrived to give me a letter
and a small parcel. The parcel contained a small lump of wax with the
stamp of a key, and the letter told me to have a key made, and to use it
to enter the house whenever I wished to spend the night with them. She
informed me at the same time that Angela had slept with them the night
following our adventures, and that, thanks to their mutual and usual
practices, she had guessed the real state of things, that they had not
denied it, adding that it was all her fault, and that Angela, after
abusing them most vehemently, had sworn never again to darken their
doors; but they did not care a jot.

A few days afterwards our good fortune delivered us from Angela; she was
taken to Vicenza by her father, who had removed there for a couple of
years, having been engaged to paint frescoes in some houses in that city.
Thanks to her absence, I found myself undisturbed possessor of the two
charming sisters, with whom I spent at least two nights every week,
finding no difficulty in entering the house with the key which I had
speedily procured.

Carnival was nearly over, when M. Manzoni informed me one day that the
celebrated Juliette wished to see me, and regretted much that I had
ceased to visit her. I felt curious as to what she had to say to me, and
accompanied him to her house. She received me very politely, and
remarking that she had heard of a large hall I had in my house, she said
she would like to give a ball there, if I would give her the use of it. I
readily consented, and she handed me twenty-four sequins for the supper
and for the band, undertaking to send people to place chandeliers in the
hall and in my other rooms.

M. de Sanvitali had left Venice, and the Parmesan government had placed
his estates in chancery in consequence of his extravagant expenditure. I
met him at Versailles ten years afterwards. He wore the insignia of the
king’s order of knighthood, and was grand equerry to the eldest daughter
of Louis XV., Duchess of Parma, who, like all the French princesses,
could not be reconciled to the climate of Italy.

The ball took place, and went off splendidly. All the guests belonged to
Juliette’s set, with the exception of Madame Orio, her nieces, and the
procurator Rosa, who sat together in the room adjoining the hall, and
whom I had been permitted to introduce as persons of no consequence
whatever.

While the after-supper minuets were being danced Juliette took me apart,
and said, “Take me to your bedroom; I have just got an amusing idea.”

My room was on the third story; I shewed her the way. The moment we
entered she bolted the door, much to my surprise. “I wish you,” she said,
“to dress me up in your ecclesiastical clothes, and I will disguise you
as a woman with my own things. We will go down and dance together. Come,
let us first dress our hair.”

Feeling sure of something pleasant to come, and delighted with such an
unusual adventure, I lose no time in arranging her hair, and I let her
afterwards dress mine. She applies rouge and a few beauty spots to my
face; I humour her in everything, and to prove her satisfaction, she
gives me with the best of grace a very loving kiss, on condition that I
do not ask for anything else.

“As you please, beautiful Juliette, but I give you due notice that I
adore you!”

I place upon my bed a shirt, an abbe’s neckband, a pair of drawers, black
silk stockings–in fact, a complete fit-out. Coming near the bed,
Juliette drops her skirt, and cleverly gets into the drawers, which were
not a bad fit, but when she comes to the breeches there is some
difficulty; the waistband is too narrow, and the only remedy is to rip it
behind or to cut it, if necessary. I undertake to make everything right,
and, as I sit on the foot of my bed, she places herself in front of me,
with her back towards me. I begin my work, but she thinks that I want to
see too much, that I am not skilful enough, and that my fingers wander in
unnecessary places; she gets fidgety, leaves me, tears the breeches, and
manages in her own way. Then I help her to put her shoes on, and I pass
the shirt over her head, but as I am disposing the ruffle and the
neck-band, she complains of my hands being too curious; and in truth, her
bosom was rather scanty. She calls me a knave and rascal, but I take no
notice of her. I was not going to be duped, and I thought that a woman
who had been paid one hundred thousand ducats was well worth some study.
At last, her toilet being completed, my turn comes. In spite of her
objections I quickly get rid of my breeches, and she must put on me the
chemise, then a skirt, in a word she has to dress me up. But all at once,
playing the coquette, she gets angry because I do not conceal from her
looks the very apparent proof that her charms have some effect on a
particular part of my being, and she refuses to grant me the favour which
would soon afford both relief and calm. I try to kiss her, and she
repulses me, whereupon I lose patience, and in spite of herself she has
to witness the last stage of my excitement. At the sight of this, she
pours out every insulting word she can think of; I endeavour to prove
that she is to blame, but it is all in vain.

However, she is compelled to complete my disguise. There is no doubt that
an honest woman would not have exposed herself to such an adventure,
unless she had intended to prove her tender feelings, and that she would
not have drawn back at the very moment she saw them shared by her
companion; but women like Juliette are often guided by a spirit of
contradiction which causes them to act against their own interests.
Besides, she felt disappointed when she found out that I was not timid,
and my want of restraint appeared to her a want of respect. She would not
have objected to my stealing a few light favours which she would have
allowed me to take, as being of no importance, but, by doing that, I
should have flattered her vanity too highly.

Our disguise being complete, we went together to the dancing-hall, where
the enthusiastic applause of the guests soon restored our good temper.
Everybody gave me credit for a piece of fortune which I had not enjoyed,
but I was not ill-pleased with the rumour, and went on dancing with the
false abbe, who was only too charming. Juliette treated me so well during
the night that I construed her manners towards me into some sort of
repentance, and I almost regretted what had taken place between us; it
was a momentary weakness for which I was sorely punished.

At the end of the quadrille all the men thought they had a right to take
liberties with the abbe, and I became myself rather free with the young
girls, who would have been afraid of exposing themselves to ridicule had
they offered any opposition to my caresses.

M. Querini was foolish enough to enquire from me whether I had kept on my
breeches, and as I answered that I had been compelled to lend them to
Juliette, he looked very unhappy, sat down in a corner of the room, and
refused to dance.

Every one of the guests soon remarked that I had on a woman’s chemise,
and nobody entertained a doubt of the sacrifice having been consummated,
with the exception of Nanette and Marton, who could not imagine the
possibility of my being unfaithful to them. Juliette perceived that she
had been guilty of great imprudence, but it was too late to remedy the
evil.

When we returned to my chamber upstairs, thinking that she had repented
of her previous behaviour, and feeling some desire to possess her, I
thought I would kiss her, and I took hold of her hand, saying I was
disposed to give her every satisfaction, but she quickly slapped my face
in so violent a manner that, in my indignation, I was very near returning
the compliment. I undressed myself rapidly without looking at her, she
did the same, and we came downstairs; but, in spite of the cold water I
had applied to my cheek, everyone could easily see the stamp of the large
hand which had come in contact with my face.

Before leaving the house, Juliette took me apart, and told me, in the
most decided and impressive manner, that if I had any fancy for being
thrown out of the window, I could enjoy that pleasure whenever I liked to
enter her dwelling, and that she would have me murdered if this night’s
adventure ever became publicly known. I took care not to give her any
cause for the execution of either of her threats, but I could not prevent
the fact of our having exchanged shirts being rather notorious. As I was
not seen at her house, it was generally supposed that she had been
compelled by M. Querini to keep me at a distance. The reader will see
how, six years later, this extraordinary woman thought proper to feign
entire forgetfulness of this adventure.

I passed Lent, partly in the company of my loved ones, partly in the
study of experimental physics at the Convent of the Salutation. My
evenings were always given to M. de Malipiero’s assemblies. At Easter, in
order to keep the promise I had made to the Countess of Mont-Real, and
longing to see again my beautiful Lucie, I went to Pasean. I found the
guests entirely different to the set I had met the previous autumn. Count
Daniel, the eldest of the family, had married a Countess Gozzi, and a
young and wealthy government official, who had married a god-daughter of
the old countess, was there with his wife and his sister-in-law. I
thought the supper very long. The same room had been given to me, and I
was burning to see Lucie, whom I did not intend to treat any more like a
child. I did not see her before going to bed, but I expected her early
the next morning, when lo! instead of her pretty face brightening my
eyes, I see standing before me a fat, ugly servant-girl! I enquire after
the gatekeeper’s family, but her answer is given in the peculiar dialect
of the place, and is, of course, unintelligible to me.

I wonder what has become of Lucie; I fancy that our intimacy has been
found out, I fancy that she is ill–dead, perhaps. I dress myself with
the intention of looking for her. If she has been forbidden to see me, I
think to myself, I will be even with them all, for somehow or other I
will contrive the means of speaking to her, and out of spite I will do
with her that which honour prevented love from accomplishing. As I was
revolving such thoughts, the gate-keeper comes in with a sorrowful
countenance. I enquire after his wife’s health, and after his daughter,
but at the name of Lucie his eyes are filled with tears.

“What! is she dead?”

“Would to God she were!”

“What has she done?”

“She has run away with Count Daniel’s courier, and we have been unable to
trace her anywhere.”

His wife comes in at the moment he replies, and at these words, which
renewed her grief, the poor woman faints away. The keeper, seeing how
sincerely I felt for his misery, tells me that this great misfortune
befell them only a week before my arrival.

“I know that man l’Aigle,” I say; “he is a scoundrel. Did he ask to marry
Lucie?”

“No; he knew well enough that our consent would have been refused!”

“I wonder at Lucie acting in such a way.”

“He seduced her, and her running away made us suspect the truth, for she
had become very stout.”

“Had he known her long?”

“About a month after your last visit she saw him for the first time. He
must have thrown a spell over her, for our Lucie was as pure as a dove,
and you can, I believe, bear testimony to her goodness.”

“And no one knows where they are?”

“No one. God alone knows what this villain will do with her.”

I grieved as much as the unfortunate parents; I went out and took a long
ramble in the woods to give way to my sad feelings. During two hours I
cogitated over considerations, some true, some false, which were all
prefaced by an if. If I had paid this visit, as I might have done, a week
sooner, loving Lucie would have confided in me, and I would have
prevented that self-murder. If I had acted with her as with Nanette and
Marton, she would not have been left by me in that state of ardent
excitement which must have proved the principal cause of her fault, and
she would not have fallen a prey to that scoundrel. If she had not known
me before meeting the courier, her innocent soul would never have
listened to such a man. I was in despair, for in my conscience I
acknowledged myself the primary agent of this infamous seduction; I had
prepared the way for the villain.

Had I known where to find Lucie, I would certainly have gone forth on the
instant to seek for her, but no trace whatever of her whereabouts had
been discovered.

Before I had been made acquainted with Lucie’s misfortune I felt great
pride at having had sufficient power over myself to respect her
innocence; but after hearing what had happened I was ashamed of my own
reserve, and I promised myself that for the future I would on that score
act more wisely. I felt truly miserable when my imagination painted the
probability of the unfortunate girl being left to poverty and shame,
cursing the remembrance of me, and hating me as the first cause of her
misery. This fatal event caused me to adopt a new system, which in after
years I carried sometimes rather too far.

I joined the cheerful guests of the countess in the gardens, and received
such a welcome that I was soon again in my usual spirits, and at dinner I
delighted everyone.

My sorrow was so great that it was necessary either to drive it away at
once or to leave Pasean. But a new life crept into my being as I examined
the face and the disposition of the newly-married lady. Her sister was
prettier, but I was beginning to feel afraid of a novice; I thought the
work too great.

This newly-married lady, who was between nineteen and twenty years of
age, drew upon herself everybody’s attention by her over-strained and
unnatural manners. A great talker, with a memory crammed with maxims and
precepts often without sense, but of which she loved to make a show, very
devout, and so jealous of her husband that she did not conceal her
vexation when he expressed his satisfaction at being seated at table
opposite her sister, she laid herself open to much ridicule. Her husband
was a giddy young fellow, who perhaps felt very deep affection for his
wife, but who imagined that, through good breeding, he ought to appear
very indifferent, and whose vanity found pleasure in giving her constant
causes for jealousy. She, in her turn, had a great dread of passing for
an idiot if she did not shew her appreciation of, and her resentment for,
his conduct. She felt uneasy in the midst of good company, precisely
because she wished to appear thoroughly at home. If I prattled away with
some of my trilling nonsense, she would stare at me, and in her anxiety
not to be thought stupid, she would laugh out of season. Her oddity, her
awkwardness, and her self-conceit gave me the desire to know her better,
and I began to dance attendance upon her.

My attentions, important and unimportant, my constant care, ever my
fopperies, let everybody know that I meditated conquest. The husband was
duly warned, but, with a great show of intrepidity, he answered with a
joke every time he was told that I was a formidable rival. On my side I
assumed a modest, and even sometimes a careless appearance, when, to shew
his freedom from jealousy, he excited me to make love to his wife, who,
on her part, understood but little how to perform the part of fancy free.

I had been paying my address to her for five or six days with great
constancy, when, taking a walk with her in the garden, she imprudently
confided to me the reason of her anxiety respecting her husband, and how
wrong he was to give her any cause for jealousy. I told her, speaking as
an old friend, that the best way to punish him would be to take no
apparent notice of her, husband’s preference for her sister, and to feign
to be herself in love with me. In order to entice her more easily to
follow my advice, I added that I was well aware of my plan being a very
difficult one to carry out, and that to play successfully such a
character a woman must be particularly witty. I had touched her weak
point, and she exclaimed that she would play the part to perfection; but
in spite of her self-confidence she acquitted herself so badly that
everybody understood that the plan was of my own scheming.

If I happened to be alone with her in the dark paths of the garden, and
tried to make her play her part in real earnest, she would take the
dangerous step of running away, and rejoining the other guests; the
result being that, on my reappearance, I was called a bad sportsman who
frightened the bird away. I would not fail at the first opportunity to
reproach her for her flight, and to represent the triumph she had thus
prepared for her spouse. I praised her mind, but lamented over the
shortcomings of her education; I said that the tone, the manners I
adopted towards her, were those of good society, and proved the great
esteem I entertained for her intelligence, but in the middle of all my
fine speeches, towards the eleventh or twelfth day of my courtship, she
suddenly put me out of all conceit by telling me that, being a priest, I
ought to know that every amorous connection was a deadly sin, that God
could see every action of His creatures, and that she would neither damn
her soul nor place herself under the necessity of saying to her confessor
that she had so far forgotten herself as to commit such a sin with a
priest. I objected that I was not yet a priest, but she foiled me by
enquiring point-blank whether or not the act I had in view was to be
numbered amongst the cardinal sins, for, not feeling the courage to deny
it, I felt that I must give up the argument and put an end to the
adventure.

A little consideration having considerably calmed my feelings, everybody
remarked my new countenance during dinner; and the old count, who was
very fond of a joke, expressed loudly his opinion that such quiet
demeanour on my part announced the complete success of my campaign.
Considering such a remark to be favourable to me, I took care to spew my
cruel devotee that such was the way the world would judge, but all this
was lost labour. Luck, however, stood me in good stead, and my efforts
were crowned with success in the following manner.

On Ascension Day, we all went to pay a visit to Madame Bergali, a
celebrated Italian poetess. On my return to Pasean the same evening, my
pretty mistress wished to get into a carriage for four persons in which
her husband and sister were already seated, while I was alone in a
two-wheeled chaise. I exclaimed at this, saying that such a mark of
distrust was indeed too pointed, and everybody remonstrated with her,
saying that she ought not to insult me so cruelly. She was compelled to
come with me, and having told the postillion that I wanted to go by the
nearest road, he left the other carriages, and took the way through the
forest of Cequini. The sky was clear and cloudless when we left, but in
less than half-an-hour we were visited by one of those storms so frequent
in the south, which appear likely to overthrow heaven and earth, and
which end rapidly, leaving behind them a bright sky and a cool
atmosphere, so that they do more good than harm.

“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed my companion, “we shall have a storm.”

“Yes,” I say, “and although the chaise is covered, the rain will spoil
your pretty dress. I am very sorry.”

“I do not mind the dress; but the thunder frightens me so!”

“Close your ears.”

“And the lightning?”

“Postillion, let us go somewhere for shelter.”

“There is not a house, sir, for a league, and before we come to it, the
storm will have passed off.”

He quietly keeps on his way, and the lightning flashes, the thunder sends
forth its mighty voice, and the lady shudders with fright. The rain comes
down in torrents, I take off my cloak to shelter us in front, at the same
moment we are blinded by a flash of lightning, and the electric fluid
strikes the earth within one hundred yards of us. The horses plunge and
prance with fear, and my companion falls in spasmodic convulsions. She
throws herself upon me, and folds me in her arms. The cloak had gone
down, I stoop to place it around us, and improving my opportunity I take
up her clothes. She tries to pull them down, but another clap of thunder
deprives her of every particle of strength. Covering her with the cloak,
I draw her towards me, and the motion of the chaise coming to my
assistance, she falls over me in the most favourable position. I lose no
time, and under pretence of arranging my watch in my fob, I prepare
myself for the assault. On her side, conscious that, unless she stops me
at once, all is lost, she makes a great effort; but I hold her tightly,
saying that if she does not feign a fainting fit, the post-boy will turn
round and see everything; I let her enjoy the pleasure of calling me an
infidel, a monster, anything she likes, but my victory is the most
complete that ever a champion achieved.

The rain, however, was falling, the wind, which was very high, blew in
our faces, and, compelled to stay where she was, she said I would ruin
her reputation, as the postillion could see everything.

“I keep my eye upon him,” I answered, “he is not thinking of us, and even
if he should turn his head, the cloak shelters us from him. Be quiet, and
pretend to have fainted, for I will not let you go.”

She seems resigned, and asks how I can thus set the storm at defiance.

“The storm, dear one, is my best friend to-day.”

She almost seems to believe me, her fear vanishes, and feeling my
rapture, she enquires whether I have done. I smile and answer in the
negative, stating that I cannot let her go till the storm is over.
“Consent to everything, or I let the cloak drop,” I say to her.

“Well, you dreadful man, are you satisfied, now that you have insured my
misery for the remainder of my life?”

“No, not yet.”

“What more do you want?”

“A shower of kisses.”

“How unhappy I am! Well! here they are.”

“Tell me you forgive me, and confess that you have shared all my
pleasure.”

“You know I did. Yes, I forgive you.”

Then I give her her liberty, and treating her to some very pleasant
caresses, I ask her to have the same kindness for me, and she goes to
work with a smile on her pretty lips.

“Tell me you love me,” I say to her.

“No, I do not, for you are an atheist, and hell awaits you.”

The weather was fine again, and the elements calm; I kissed her hands and
told her that the postillion had certainly not seen anything, and that I
was sure I had cured her of her dread of thunder, but that she was not
likely to reveal the secret of my remedy. She answered that one thing at
least was certain, namely that no other woman had ever been cured by the
same prescription.

“Why,” I said, “the same remedy has very likely been applied a million of
times within the last thousand years. To tell you the truth, I had
somewhat depended upon it, when we entered the chaise together, for I did
not know any other way of obtaining the happiness of possessing you. But
console yourself with the belief that, placed in the same position, no
frightened woman could have resisted.”

“I believe you; but for the future I will travel only with my husband.”

“You would be wrong, for your husband would not have been clever enough
to cure your fright in the way I have done.”

“True, again. One learns some curious things in your company; but we
shall not travel tete-a-tete again.”

We reached Pasean an hour before our friends. We get out of the chaise,
and my fair mistress ran off to her chamber, while I was looking for a
crown for the postillion. I saw that he was grinning.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Oh! you know.”

“Here, take this ducat and keep a quiet tongue in your head.”

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