The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 21: South of FranceCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 21: South of France
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
"No, I have never been there, but I have associated a good deal with
Venetians."
A servant came and told me that the wheelwright had arrived, and that he
would take four hours to mend my carriage, so I went downstairs. The man
lived at a quarter of a league's distance, and by tying the carriage pole
with ropes, I could drive to his place, and wait there for the carriage
to be mended. I was about to do so, when the gentleman who did the
honours of the house came and asked me, on behalf of the lady, to sup and
pass the night at her house, as to go to the wheelwright's would be out
of my way; the man would have to work by night, I should be
uncomfortable, and the work would be ill done. I assented to the
countess's proposal, and having agreed with the man to come early the
next day and bring his tools with him, I told Clairmont to take my
belongings into the room which was assigned to me.
When I returned to the countess's room I found everyone laughing at
Marcoline's sallies, which the countess translated. I was not astonished
at seeing the way in which my fair Venetian caressed the countess, but I
was enraged at not being able to see her, for I knew Marcoline would not
treat any woman in that manner unless she were pretty.
The table was spread in the bedroom of the countess, whom I hoped to see
at supper-time, but I was disappointed; for she declared that she could
not take anything, and all supper-time she talked to Marcoline and
myself, shewing intelligence, education, and a great knowledge of
Italian. She let fall the expression, "my late husband," so I knew her
for a widow, but as I did not dare to ask any questions, my knowledge
ended at that point. When Clairmont was undressing me he told me her
married name, but as I knew nothing of the family that was no addition to
my information.
When we had finished supper, Marcoline took up her old position by the
countess's bed, and they talked so volubly to one another that nobody
else could get in a word.
When politeness bade me retire, my pretended cousin said she was going to
sleep with the countess. As the latter laughingly assented, I refrained
from telling my madcap that she was too forward, and I could see by their
mutual embraces that they were agreed in the matter. I satisfied myself
with saying that I could not guarantee the sex of the countess's
bed-fellow, but she answered,
"Never mind; if there be a mistake I shall be the gainer."
This struck me as rather free, but I was not the man to be scandalized. I
was amused at the tastes of my fair Venetian, and at the manner in which
she contrived to gratify them as she had done at Genoa with my last
niece. As a rule the Provencal women are inclined this way, and far from
reproaching them I like them all the better for it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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