Название | The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Giacomo Casanova |
Жанр | Биографии и Мемуары |
Серия | |
Издательство | Биографии и Мемуары |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn |
Again a duchess! My star is decidedly in the ascendant. Well, let us go! We got into a ‘diable’, a sort of vehicle then very fashionable, and at eleven o’clock in the morning we were introduced to the duchess.
Dear reader, if I were to paint it with a faithful pen, my portrait of that lustful vixen would frighten you. Imagine sixty winters heaped upon a face plastered with rouge, a blotched and pimpled complexion, emaciated and gaunt features, all the ugliness of libertinism stamped upon the countenance of that creature relining upon the sofa. As soon as she sees me, she exclaims with rapid joy,
“Ah! this is a good-looking man! Prince, it is very amiable on your part to bring him to me. Come and sit near me, my fine fellow!”
I obeyed respectfully, but a noxious smell of musk, which seemed to me almost corpse-like, nearly upset me. The infamous duchess had raised herself on the sofa and exposed all the nakedness of the most disgusting bosom, which would have caused the most courageous man to draw back. The prince, pretending to have some engagement, left us, saying that he would send his carriage for me in a short time.
As soon as we were alone, the plastered skeleton thrust its arms forward, and, without giving me time to know what I was about, the creature gave me a horrible kiss, and then one of her hands began to stray with the most bare-faced indecency.
“Let me see, my fine cock,” she said, “if you have a fine . . .”
I was shuddering, and resisted the attempt.
“Well, well! What a baby you are!” said the disgusting Messaline; “are you such a novice?”
“No, madam; but....”
“But what?”
“I have....”
“Oh, the villain!” she exclaimed, loosing her hold; “what was I going to expose myself to!”
I availed myself of the opportunity, snatched my hat, and took to my heels, afraid lest the door-keeper should stop me.
I took a coach and drove to Coraline’s, where I related the adventure. She laughed heartily, and agreed with me that the prince had played me a nasty trick. She praised the presence of mind with which I had invented an impediment, but she did not give me an opportunity of proving to her that I had deceived the duchess.
Yet I was not without hope, and suspected that she did not think me sufficiently enamoured of her.
Three or four days afterwards, however, as we had supper together and alone, I told her so many things, and I asked her so clearly to make me happy or else to dismiss me, that she gave me an appointment for the next day.
“To-morrow,” she said, “the prince goes to Versailles, and he will not return until the day after; we will go together to the warren to hunt ferrets, and have no doubt we shall come back to Paris pleased with one another.”
“That is right.”
The next day at ten o’clock we took a coach, but as we were nearing the gate of the city a vis-a-vis, with servants in a foreign livery came up to us, and the person who was in it called out, “Stop! Stop!”
The person was the Chevalier de Wurtemburg, who, without deigning to cast even one glance on me, began to say sweet words to Coraline, and thrusting his head entirely out of his carriage he whispered to her. She answered him likewise in a whisper; then taking my hand, she said to me, laughingly,
“I have some important business with this prince; go to the warren alone, my dear friend, enjoy the hunt, and come to me to-morrow.”
And saying those words she got out, took her seat in the vis-a-vis, and I found myself very much in the position of Lot’s wife, but not motionless.
Dear reader, if you have ever been in such a predicament you will easily realize the rage with which I was possessed: if you have never been served in that way, so much the better for you, but it is useless for me to try to give you an idea of my anger; you would not understand me.
I was disgusted with the coach, and I jumped out of it, telling the driver to go to the devil. I took the first hack which happened to pass, and drove straight to Patu’s house, to whom I related my adventure, almost foaming with rage. But very far from pitying me or sharing my anger, Patu, much wiser, laughed and said,
“I wish with all my heart that the same thing might happen to me; for you are certain of possessing our beautiful Coraline the very first time you are with her.”
“I would not have her, for now I despise her heartily.” “Your contempt ought to have come sooner. But, now that is too late to discuss the matter, I offer you, as a compensation, a dinner at the Hotel du Roule.”
“Most decidedly yes; it is an excellent idea. Let us go.”
The Hotel du Roule was famous in Paris, and I had not been there yet. The woman who kept it had furnished the place with great elegance, and she always had twelve or fourteen well-chosen nymphs, with all the conveniences that could be desired. Good cooking, good beds, cleanliness, solitary and beautiful groves. Her cook was an artist, and her wine-cellar excellent. Her name was Madame Paris; probably an assumed name, but it was good enough for the purpose. Protected by the police, she was far enough from Paris to be certain that those who visited her liberally appointed establishment were above the middle class. Everything was strictly regulated in her house and every pleasure was taxed at a reasonable tariff. The prices were six francs for a breakfast with a nymph, twelve for dinner, and twice that sum to spend a whole night. I found the house even better than its reputation, and by far superior to the warren.
We took a coach, and Patu said to the driver,
“To Chaillot.”
“I understand, your honour.”
After a drive of half an hour, we stopped before a gate on which could be read, “Hotel du Roule.”
The gate was closed. A porter, sporting long mustachioes, came out through a side-door and gravely examined us. He was most likely pleased with our appearance, for the gate was opened and we went in. A woman, blind of one eye, about forty years old, but with a remnant of beauty, came up, saluted us politely, and enquired whether we wished to have dinner. Our answer being affirmative, she took us to a fine room in which we found fourteen young women, all very handsome, and dressed alike in muslin. As we entered the room, they rose and made us a graceful reverence; they were all about the same age, some with light hair, some with dark; every taste could be satisfied. We passed them in review, addressing a few words to each, and made our choice. The two we chose screamed for joy, kissed us with a voluptuousness which a novice might have mistaken for love, and took us to the garden until dinner would be ready. That garden was very large and artistically arranged to minister to the pleasures of love. Madame Paris said to us,
“Go, gentlemen, enjoy the fresh air with perfect security in every way; my house is the temple of peace and of good health.”
The girl I had chosen was something like Coraline, and that made me find her delightful. But in the midst of our amorous occupations we were called to dinner. We were well served, and the dinner had given us new strength, when our single-eyed hostess came, watch in hand, to announce that time was up. Pleasure at the “Hotel du Roule” was measured by the hour.
I whispered to Patu, and, after a few philosophical considerations, addressing himself to madame la gouvernante, he said to her,
“We will have a double dose, and of course pay double.”
“You are quite welcome, gentlemen.”
We went upstairs, and after we had made our choice a second time, we renewed our promenade in the garden. But once more we were disagreeably surprised by the strict punctuality of the lady of the house. “Indeed! this is too much of a good thing, madam.”
“Let us go up for the third time, make a third choice, and pass the whole night here.”
“A delightful idea which I accept with all my heart.”
“Does