The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 16: Depart SwitzerlandCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 16: Depart Switzerland
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
I was emboldened by this frank declaration, and seizing her hand I
covered it with fiery kisses, saying passionately that I hoped she would
not let me languish long. She turned her head to look for her aunt. It
was getting dark, and she seemed to be afraid of something happening to
her. She drew me gently with her, and on rejoining the other guests we
returned to the dining-room, where I made a small bank at faro for their
amusement. Madame Morin gave her daughter and niece, whose pockets were
empty, some money, and Valenglard directed their play so well that when
we left off to go to supper I had the pleasure of seeing that each of the
three ladies had won two or three louis.
We sat at table till midnight. A cold wind from the Alps stopped my plan
of proposing a short turn in the garden. Madame Morin overwhelmed me with
thanks for my entertainment, and I gave each of my lady-visitors a
respectful kiss.
I heard singing in the kitchen, and on going in I found Le Duc in a high
state of excitement and very drunk. As soon as he saw me he tried to
rise, but he lost his centre of gravity, and fell right under the kitchen
table. He was carried away to bed.
I thought this accident favourable to my desire of amusing myself, and I
might have succeeded if the three Graces had not all been there. Love
only laughs when two are present, and thus it is that the ancient
mythology tells no story of the loves of the Graces, who were always
together. I had not yet found an opportunity of getting my three maids
one after the other, and I dared not risk a general attack, which might
have lost me the confidence of each one. Rose, I saw, was openly jealous
of her cousin, as she kept a keen look-out after her movements. I was not
sorry, for jealousy leads to anger, and anger goes a long way. When I was
in bed I sent them away with a modest good night.
Next morning, Rose came in by herself to ask me for a cake of chocolate,
for, as she said, Le Duc was now ill in real earnest. She brought me the
box, and I gave her the chocolate, and in doing so I took her hand and
shewed her how well I loved her. She was offended, drew back her hand
sharply, and left the room. A moment after Manon came in under the
pretext of shewing me a piece of lace I had torn away in my attempts of
the day before, and of asking me if she should mend it. I took her hand
to kiss it, but she did not give me time, presenting her lips, burning
with desire. I took her hand again, and it was just on the spot when the
cousin came in. Manon held the piece of lace, and seemed to be waiting
for my answer. I told her absently that I should be obliged if she would
mend it when she had time, and with this she went out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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