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
The girl came back with the packet, and putting myself in a proper
position I told her to try one on. She proceeded to do so with a sulky
air and with a kind of repugnance which made me feel interested in her.
Number one would not go on, so she had to try on a second, and the result
was that I besprinkled her plentifully. The mistress laughed, but she was
indignant, threw the whole packet in my face, and ran away in a rage. I
wanted nothing more after this, so I put the packet in my pocket, gave
the woman two Louis, and left the room. The girl I had treated so
cavalierly came to light me downstairs, and thinking I owed her an
apology I gave her a Louis and begged her pardon. The poor girl was
astonished, kissed my hand, and begged me to say nothing to her mistress.
"I will not, my dear, but tell me truly whether you are still a 'virgo
intacta'."
"Certainly, sir!"
"Wonderful! but tell me why you wouldn't let me see for myself?"
"Because it revolted me."
"Nevertheless you will have to do so, for otherwise, in spite of your
prettiness, people will not know what to make of you. Would you like to
let me try?"
"Yes, but not in this horrible house."
"Where, then?"
"Go to my mother's to-morrow, I will be there. Your guide knows where she
lives."
When I got outside, I asked the man if he knew her. He replied in the
affirmative, and said he believed her to be an honest girl.
"You will take me to-morrow to see her mother," I said.
Next morning he took me to the end of the town, to a poor house, where I
found a poor woman and poor children living on the ground floor, and
eating hard black bread.
"What do you want?" said she.
"Is you daughter here?"
"No, and what if she were? I am not her bawd."
"No, of course not, my good woman."
Just then the girl came in, and the enraged mother flung an old pot which
came handy, at her head. Luckily it missed, but she would not have
escaped her mother's talons if I had not flung myself between them.
However, the old woman set up a dismal shriek, the children imitated her,
and the poor girl began to cry. This hubbub made my man come in.
"You hussy!" screamed the mother, "you are bringing disgrace on me; get
out of my house. You are no longer my daughter!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account