The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 28: RomeCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 28: Rome
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
"It strikes me," said I, "that you were much smaller in those days."
"Yes, I was only twelve or thirteen. You have changed also."
"Yes, I have aged."
We began talking about the late Duke of Matalone, and Anastasia left us.
We sat down in a charming grotto, and began styling each other papa and
daughter, and allowing ourselves liberties which threatened to lead to
danger.
The marchioness tried to calm my transports by talking of her good
husband.
Donna Lucrezia remarked our mutual emotion as I held Leonilda in my arms,
and warned us to be careful. She then left us to walk in a different part
of the garden.
Her words had the contrary effect to what was intended, for as soon as
she left us in so opportune a manner, although we had no intention of
committing the double crime, we approached too near to each other, and an
almost involuntary movement made, the act complete.
We remained motionless, looking into one another's eyes, in mute
astonishment, as we confessed afterwards, to find neither guilt nor
repentance in our breasts.
We rearranged our position, and the marchioness sitting close to me
called me her dear husband, while I called her my dear wife.
The new bond between us was confirmed by affectionate kisses. We were
absorbed and silent, and Lucrezia was delighted to find us so calm when
she returned.
We had no need to warn each other to observe secrecy. Donna Lucrezia was
devoid of prejudice, but there was no need to give her a piece of useless
information.
We felt certain that she had left us alone, so as not to be a witness of
what we were going to do.
After some further conversation we went back to the palace with
Anastasia, whom we found in the alley by herself.
The marquis received his wife with joy, congratulating her on the success
of her negotiations. He thanked me for my compliance, and assured me I
should have a comfortable apartment in his country house.
"I suppose you will not mind having our friend for a neighbor?" he said
to Lucrezia.
"No," said she; "but we will be discreet, for the flower of our lives has
withered."
"I shall believe as much of that as I please."
The worthy man dearly loved a joke.
The long table was laid for five, and as soon as dinner was served an old
priest came in and sat down. He spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to him.
The pretty page stood behind the marchioness, and we were waited on by
ten or twelve servants.
I had only a little soup at dinner, so I ate like an ogre, for I was very
hungry, and the marquis's French cook was a thorough artist.
The marquis exclaimed with delight as I devoured one dish after another.
He told me that the only fault in his wife that she was a very poor eater
like her mother. At dessert the wine began to take effect, and our
conversation, which was conducted in French, became somewhat free. The
old priest took no notice, as he only understood Italian, and he finally
left us after saying the 'agimus'.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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