The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 27: Expelled from SpainCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 27: Expelled from Spain
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
"No, no, you are not; and your coachman will have no cause for complaint,
for he has been paid; here is the receipt."
These remarks, delivered with an air of amorous despotism, flattered my
vanity. I made up my mind to submit gaily, called her wanton, and said I
was not worth the pains she was taking over me.
"What astonishes me," said I, "is that with this fine house you do not
care to entertain company."
"Everybody is afraid to come; they fear Ricla's jealousy, for it is well
known that that animal who is now suffering from the colic tells him
everything I do. He swears that it is not so, but I know him to be a
liar. Indeed, I am very glad he does write to Ricla, and only wish he had
something of real importance to write about."
"He will tell him that I have supped alone with you."
"All the better; are you afraid?"
"No; but I think you ought to tell me if I have anything really to fear."
"Nothing at all; it will fall on me."
"But I should not like to involve you in a dispute which might be
prejudicial to your interests."
"Not at all; the more I provoke him, the better he loves me, and I will
make him pay dearly when he asks me to make it up."
"Then you don't love him?"
"Yes, to ruin him; but he is so rich that there doesn't seem much hope of
my ever doing that."
Before me I saw a woman as beautiful as Venus and as degraded as Lucifer;
a woman most surely born to be the ruin of anyone who had the misfortune
to fall in love with her. I had known women of similar character, but
never one so dangerous as she.
I determined to make some money out of her if I could.
She called for cards, and asked me to play with her at a game called
primiera. It is a game of chance, but of so complicated a nature that the
best player always wins. In a quarter of an hour I found that I was the
better player, but she had such luck that at the end of the game I had
lost twenty pistoles, which I paid on the spot. She took the money,
promising to give me my revenge.
We had supper, and then we committed all the wantonness she wished and I
was capable of performing, for with me the age of miracles was past.
The next day I called to see her earlier in the evening. We played again;
and she lost, and went on losing evening after evening, till I had won a
matter of two or three hundred doubloons, no unwelcome addition to my
somewhat depleted purse.
The spy recovered from his colic and supped with us every evening, but
his presence no longer interfered with my pleasure since Nina had ceased
to prostitute herself to him in my presence. She did the opposite; giving
herself to me, and telling him to write to the Comte de Ricla whatever he
liked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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