The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 02: a Cleric in NaplesCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 02: a Cleric in Naples
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
Those words were accompanied by a very significant glance in my
direction.
"I should consider myself fortunate, madam, if I could obtain the
happiness of admiring some of your poetry."
"Here is a sonnet of her ladyship's," said Cardinal S. C.
I took it respectfully, and I prepared to read it, but the amiable
marchioness told me to put it in my pocket and return it to the cardinal
the next day, although she did not think the sonnet worth so much
trouble. "If you should happen to go out in the morning," said Cardinal
S. C., "you could bring it back, and dine with me." Cardinal Aquaviva
immediately answered for me: "He will be sure to go out purposely."
With a deep reverence, which expressed my thanks, I left the room quietly
and returned to my apartment, very impatient to read the sonnet. Yet,
before satisfying my wish, I could not help making some reflections on
the situation. I began to think myself somebody since the gigantic stride
I had made this evening at the cardinal's assembly. The Marchioness de G.
had shewn in the most open way the interest she felt in me, and, under
cover of her grandeur, had not hesitated to compromise herself publicly
by the most flattering advances. But who would have thought of
disapproving? A young abbe like me, without any importance whatever, who
could scarcely pretend to her high protection! True, but she was
precisely the woman to grant it to those who, feeling themselves unworthy
of it, dared not shew any pretensions to her patronage. On that head, my
modesty must be evident to everyone, and the marchioness would certainly
have insulted me had she supposed me capable of sufficient vanity to
fancy that she felt the slightest inclination for me. No, such a piece of
self-conceit was not in accordance with my nature. Her cardinal himself
had invited me to dinner. Would he have done so if he had admitted the
possibility of the beautiful marchioness feeling anything for me? Of
course not, and he gave me an invitation to dine with him only because he
had understood, from the very words of the lady, that I was just the sort
of person with whom they could converse for a few hours without any risk;
to be sure, without any risk whatever. Oh, Master Casanova! do you really
think so?
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