The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 15: With VoltaireCasanova, Giacomo
Philosophy
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 15: With Voltaire
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
So saying, she took off her cap, and let down her beautiful hair. I
unlaced her corset, and in the twinkling of an eye I had before me such a
siren as one sees on the canvas of Correggio. I could not look upon her
long without covering her with my burning kisses, and, communicating my
ardour, before long she made a place for me beside herself. I felt that
there was no time for thinking, that nature had spoken out, and that love
bade me seize the opportunity offered by that delicious weakness. I threw
myself on her, and with my lips glued to hers I pressed her between my
amorous arms, pending the moment of supreme bliss.
But in the midst of these joys, she turned her head, closed her eyelids,
and fell asleep. I moved away a little, the better to contemplate the
treasures that love displayed before me. The nun slept, as I thought; but
even if her sleep was feigned, should I be angry with her for the
stratagem? Certainly not; true or feigned, the sleep of a loved one
should always be respected by a delicate lover, although there are some
pleasures he may allow himself. If the sleep is real there is no harm
done, and if it is put on the lover only responds to the lady's desires.
All that is necessary is so to manage one's caresses that they are
pleasant to the beloved object. But M---- M---- was really asleep; the
claret had numbed her senses, and she had yielded to its influence
without any ulterior motives. While I gazed at her I saw that she was
dreaming. Her lips uttered words of which I could not catch the meaning,
but her voluptuous aspect told me of what she dreamt. I took off my
clothes; and in two minutes I had clasped her fair body to mine, not
caring much whether she slept on or whether I awoke her and brought our
drama to a climax, which seemed inevitable.
I was not long uncertain, for the instinctive movements she made when she
felt the minister that would fain accomplish the sacrifice at the door of
the sanctuary, convinced me that her dream still lasted, and that I could
not make her happier than by changing it into reality. I delicately moved
away all obstacles, and gently and by degrees consummated this sweet
robbery, and when at last I abandoned myself to all the force of passion,
she awoke with a sigh of bliss, murmuring,
"Ah! it is true then."
"Yes, my angel! are you happy?"
For all reply she drew me to her and fastened her lips on mine, and thus
we awaited the dawn of day, exhausting all imaginable kinds of pleasure,
exciting each other's desires, and only wishing to prolong our enjoyment.
"Alas!" said she, "I am happy now, but you must leave me till the
evening. Let us talk of our happiness, and enjoy it over again."
"Then you do not repent having made me a happy man?"
"No; it is you who have made me happy. You are an angel from heaven. We
loved, we crowned our love; I cannot have done aught to offend God. I am
free from all my fears. We have obeyed nature and our destinies. Do you
love me still?"
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