The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 22: to LondonCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 22: to London
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
He had hit it off exactly. I had heard of the trick before, and I called
out to the man; and on his answering me rather impudently, I began to
kick him, with my pistol in my hand. He ran off swearing, and the noise
brought up the landlord and five or six of his people. Everybody said I
was in the right, but all the same I had to waste two hours as it would
not have been prudent to travel without lamps.
Another lamp-maker was summoned; he looked at the damage, and laughed at
the rascally trick his fellow-tradesman had played me.
"Can I imprison the rascal?" I said to the landlord. "I should like to
have the satisfaction of doing so, were it to cost me two Louis."
"Two Louis! Your honour shall be attended to in a moment."
I was in a dreadful rage, and did not notice Adele, who was quite afraid
of me. A police official came up to take my information, and examine
witnesses, and to draw up the case.
"How much is your time worth, sir?" he asked me.
"Five louis."
With these words I slid two louis into his hand, and he immediately wrote
down a fine of twenty louis against the lamp-maker, and then went his
way, saying,--
"Your man will be in prison in the next ten minutes." I breathed again at
the prospect of vengeance. I then begged Mdlle. Adele's pardon, who asked
mine in her turn, not knowing how I had offended her. This might have led
to some affectionate passages, but her father came in saying that the
rascal was in prison, and that everyone said I was right.
"I am perfectly ready to swear that he did the damage," said he.
"You saw him, did you?"
"No, but that's of no consequence, as everybody is sure he did it."
This piece of simplicity restored my good temper completely, and I began
to ask Moreau, as he called himself, several questions. He told me he was
a widower, that Adele was his only child, that he was going to set up in
business at Louviers, and so on.
In the course of an hour the farce turned into a tragedy, in the
following manner. Two women, one of them with a baby at her breast, and
followed by four brats, all of whom might have been put under a bushel
measure, came before me, and falling on their knees made me guess the
reason of this pitiful sight. They were the wife, the mother, and the
children of the delinquent.
My heart was soon moved with pity for them, for my vengeance had been
complete, and I did not harbour resentment; but the wife almost put me in
a fury again by saying that her husband was an innocent man, and that
they who had accused him were rascals.
The mother, seeing the storm ready to burst, attacked me more adroitly,
admitting that her son might be guilty, but that he must have been driven
to it by misery, as he had got no bread wherewith to feed his children.
She added:
"My good sir, take pity on us, for he is our only support. Do a good deed
and set him free, for he would stay in prison all his days unless we sold
our beds to pay you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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