CHAPTER SIX
In a strangely tranquillized, almost happy mood, which was a surpriseto himself, Casanova sat at table with the others, and paid court toMarcolina in the sportive manner which might seem appropriate from adistinguished elderly gentleman towards a well-bred young woman of theburgher class. She accepted his attentions gracefully, in the spirit inwhich they appeared to be offered. He found it difficult to believe thathis demure neighbor was the same Marcolina from whose bedroom window hehad seen a young officer emerge, a man who had obviously held her inhis arms but a few moments earlier. It was equally difficult for him torealize how this tender girl, who was fond of romping on the grass withother children, could conduct a learned correspondence with Saugrenue,the renowned mathematician of Paris. Yet simultaneously he deridedhimself for the inertness of his imagination. Had he not learned athousand times that in the souls of all persons who are truly alive,discrepant elements, nay, apparently hostile elements, may coexist inperfect harmony? He himself, who shortly before had been so profoundlymoved, had been desperate, had been ready for evil deeds, was now sogentle, so kindly, in so merry a mood, that Olivo's little daughterswere shaking their sides with laughter. Nevertheless, as was usual withhim after strong excitement, his appetite was positively ferocious, andthis served to warn him that order was not yet fully restored in hissoul.
With the last course, the maid brought in a despatch which had justarrived for the Chevalier by special messenger from Mantua. Olivonoticed that Casanova grew pale. He told the servant to provide themessenger with refreshment, then turned to his guest.
"Pray don't stand upon ceremony, Chevalier. Read your letter."
"If you will excuse me," answered Casanova. He went to the window andopened the missive with simulated indifference. It was from SignorBragadino, an old friend of the family and a confirmed bachelor, overeighty years of age, and for the last decade a member of the SupremeCouncil. He had shown more interest than other patrons in pressingCasanova's suit. The letter was beautifully written, although thecharacters were a little shaky. It was as follows:
"My dear Casanova:
"I am delighted, at length, to be able to send you news which will, Ihope, be substantially accordant with your wishes. The Supreme Council,at its last sitting, which took place yesterday evening, did not merelyexpress its willingness to permit your return to Venice. It wentfurther. The Council desires that your advent should be as speedy aspossible, since there is an intention to turn to immediate account theactive gratitude which you have foreshadowed in so many of your letters.
"Since Venice has been deprived for so long of the advantage of yourpresence, you may perhaps be unaware, my dear Casanova, that quiterecently the internal affairs of our beloved native city have taken arather unfavorable trend both politically and morally. Secret societieshave come into existence, directed against the constitution of theVenetian state, and even, it would seem, aiming at its forcibleoverthrow. As might be expected, the members of these societies, personswhom it would not be too harsh to denominate conspirators, are chieflydrawn from certain free-thinking, irreligious, and lawless circles. Notto speak of what goes on in private, we learn that in the public squaresand in coffee houses, the most outrageous, the most treasonableconversations, take place. But only in exceptional instances has it beenpossible to catch the guilty in the act, or to secure definite proofagainst the offenders. A few admissions have been enforced by the rack,but these confessions have proved so untrustworthy that several membersof the Council are of opinion that for the future it would be better toabstain from methods of investigation which are not only cruel but areapt to lead us astray. Of course there is no lack of individualswell-affected towards public order and devoted to the welfare of thestate, individuals who would be delighted to place their services at thedisposal of the government; but most of them are so well known asstalwart supporters of the existing constitution that when they arepresent people are chary in their utterances and are most unlikely togive vent to treasonable expressions.
"At yesterday's sitting, one of the senators, whom I will not name,expressed the opinion that a man who had the reputation of being withoutmoral principle and who was furthermore regarded as a freethinker--inshort, Casanova, such a man as yourself--if recalled to Venice would notfail to secure prompt and sympathetic welcome in the very circles whichthe government regards with such well-grounded suspicion. If he playedhis cards well, such a man would soon inspire the most absoluteconfidence.
"In my opinion, irresistibly, and as if by the force of a law of nature,there would gravitate around your person the very elements which theSupreme Council, in its indefatigable zeal for the state, is most eagerto render harmless and to punish in an exemplary manner. For yourpart, my dear Casanova, you would give us an acceptable proof of yourpatriotic zeal, and would furnish in addition an infallible sign of yourcomplete conversion from all those tendencies for which, during yourimprisonment in The Leads, you had to atone by punishment which, thoughsevere, was not, as you now see for yourself (if we are to believe yourepistolary assurances), altogether unmerited. I mean, should you beprepared, immediately on your return home, to act in the way previouslysuggested, to seek acquaintance with the elements sufficiently specifiedabove, to introduce yourself to them in the friendliest fashion asone who cherishes the same tendencies, and to furnish the Senatewith accurate and full reports of everything which might seem to yoususpicious or worthy of note.
"For these services the authorities would offer you, to begin with,a salary of two hundred and fifty lire per month, apart from specialpayments in cases of exceptional importance. I need hardly say that youwould receive in addition, without too close a scrutiny of the items, anallowance for such expenses as you might incur in the discharge of yourduties (I refer, for instance, to the treating of this individual or ofthat, little gifts made to women, and so on).
"I do not attempt to conceal from myself that you may have to fight downcertain scruples before you will feel inclined to fulfil our wishes.Permit me, however, as your old and sincere friend (who was himselfyoung once), to remind you that it can never be regarded as dishonorablefor a man to perform any services that may be essential for the safetyof his beloved fatherland--even if, to a shallow-minded and unpatrioticcitizen, such services might seem to be of an unworthy character.Let me add, Casanova, that your knowledge of human nature will certainlyenable you to draw a distinction between levity and criminality, todifferentiate the jester from the heretic. Thus it will be within yourpower, in appropriate cases, to temper justice with mercy, and todeliver up to punishment those only who, in your honest opinion, maydeserve it.
"Above all I would ask you to consider that, should you reject thegracious proposal of the Supreme Council, the fulfilment of your dearestwish--your return to Venice--is likely to be postponed for a long and Ifear for an indefinite period; and that I myself, if I may allude to thematter, as an old man of eighty-one, should be compelled in all humanprobability to renounce the pleasing prospect of ever seeing you againin this life.
"Since, for obvious reasons, your appointment will be of a confidentialand not of a public nature, I beg you to address to me personally yourreply, for which I make myself responsible, and which I wish to presentto the Council at its next sitting a week hence. Act with all convenientspeed, for, as I have previously explained, we are daily receivingoffers from thoroughly trustworthy persons who, from patrioticmotives, voluntarily place themselves at the disposal of the SupremeCouncil. Nevertheless, there is hardly one among them who can comparewith you, my dear Casanova, in respect of experience or intelligence.If, in addition to all the arguments I have adduced, you take mypersonal feelings into account, I find it difficult to doubt that youwill gladly respond to the call which now reaches you from so exaltedand so friendly a source.
"Till then, receive the assurances of my undying friendship.
"BRAGADINO."
"Postscript. Immediately upon receipt of your acceptance, it will be apleasure to me to send
you a remittance of two hundred lire through thebanking firm of Valori in Mantua. The sum is to defray the cost of yourjourney.
"B."
* * * * *
Long after Casanova had finished reading the letter, he stood holdingthe paper so as to conceal the deathly pallor of his countenance. Fromthe dining-table came a continuous noise, the rattle of plates and theclinking of glasses; but conversation had entirely ceased. At lengthAmalia ventured to say: "The food is getting cold, Chevalier; won'tyou go on with your meal?"
"You must excuse me," replied Casanova, letting his face be seen oncemore, for by now, owing to his extraordinary self-control, he hadregained outward composure. "I have just received the best possible newsfrom Venice, and I must reply instantly. With your leave, I will go tomy room."
"Suit yourself, Chevalier," said Olivo. "But do not forget that our cardparty begins in an hour."
In the turret chamber Casanova sank into a chair. A chill sweat brokeout over his body; he shivered as if in the cold stage of a fever; hewas seized with such nausea that he felt as if he were about to choke.For a time he was unable to think clearly, and he could do no more thandevote his energies to the task of self-restraint without quite knowingwhy he did so. But there was no one in the house upon whom he could venthis fury; and he could not fail to realize the utter absurdity of ahalf-formed idea that Marcolina must be in some way contributory to theintolerable shame which had been put upon him.
As soon as he was in some degree once more master of himself, his firstthought was to take revenge upon the scoundrels who had believed that hecould be hired as a police spy. He would return to Venice in disguise,and would exert all his cunning to compass the death of thesewretches--or at least of whomever it was that had conceived thedespicable design.
Was Bragadino the prime culprit? Why not? An old man so lost to allsense of shame that he had dared to write such a letter to Casanova; adotard who could actually believe that Casanova, whom he had personallyknown, would set his hand to this ignominious task. He no longer knewCasanova! Nor did anyone know him, in Venice or elsewhere. But peopleshould learn to know him once more.
It was true that he was no longer young enough or handsome enough toseduce an honest girl. Nor did he now possess the skill and the agilityrequisite for an escape from prison, or for gymnastic feats upon theroof-tops. But in spite of his age, he was cleverer than anyone else!Once back in Venice, he could do anything he pleased. The first step,the essential step, was to get back. Perhaps it would not be necessaryto kill anyone. There were other kinds of revenge, grimmer, moredevilish, than a commonplace murder. If he were to feign acceptance ofthe Council's proposal, it would be the easiest thing in the world tocompass the destruction of those whom he wished to destroy, instead ofbringing about the ruin of those whom the authorities had in mind, andwho were doubtless the finest fellows among all the inhabitants ofVenice! Monstrous! Because they were the enemies of this infamousgovernment, because they were reputed heretics, were they to languish inThe Leads where he had languished twenty-five years ago, or were they toperish under the executioner's axe? He detested the government a hundredtimes more than they did, and with better reason. He had been a lifelongheretic; was a heretic to-day, upon sincerer conviction than them all.What a queer comedy he had been playing of late years--simply fromtedium and disgust. He to believe in God? What sort of a God was it whowas gracious only to the young, and left the old in the lurch? A Godwho, when the fancy took him, became a devil; who transformed wealthinto poverty, fortune into misfortune, happiness into despair. "You playwith us--and we are to worship you? To doubt your existence is the onlyresource left open to us if we are not to blaspheme you! You do notexist; for if you did exist, I should curse you!"
Shaking his clenched fists heavenward, he rose to his feet.Involuntarily, a detested name rose to his lips. Voltaire! Yes, now hewas in the right mood to finish his polemic against the sage of Ferney.To finish it? No, now was the time to begin it. A new one! A differentone! One in which the ridiculous old fool should be shown up as hedeserved: for his pusillanimity, his half-heartedness, his subservience.He an unbeliever? A man of whom the latest news was that he was onexcellent terms with the priests, that he visited church, and on feastdays actually went to confession! He a heretic? He was a chatterbox, aboastful coward, nothing more! But the day of reckoning was at hand,and soon there would be nothing left of the great philosopher but aquill-driving buffoon.
What airs he had given himself, this worthy M. Voltaire! "My dear M.Casanova, I am really vexed with you. What concern have I with the worksof Merlin? It is your fault that I have wasted four hours over suchnonsense."
All a matter of taste, excellent M. Voltaire! People will continue toread Merlin long after _La Pucelle_ has been forgotten. Possibly theywill continue to prize my sonnets, the sonnets you returned to me witha shameless smile, and without saying a word about them. But theseare trifles. Do not let us spoil a great opportunity because of oursensitiveness as authors. We are concerned with philosophy--with God! Weshall cross swords, M. Voltaire, unless you die before I have a chanceto deal with you.
He was already in the mind to begin his new polemic, when it occurred tohim that the messenger was waiting for an answer. He hastily inditeda letter to the old duffer Bragadino, a letter full of hypocriticalhumility and simulated delight. With joy and gratitude he accepted thepardon of the Council. He would expect the remittance by return of post,so that with all possible speed he might present himself before hispatrons, and above all before the honored old family friend, Bragadino.
When he was in the act of sealing the letter, someone knocked gently atthe door. At the word, Olivo's eldest daughter, the thirteen-year-oldTeresina, entered, to tell him that the whole company was assembledbelow, and that the Chevalier was impatiently awaited at the cardtable. Her eyes gleamed strangely; her cheeks were flushed; her thick,black hair lay loose upon her temples; her little mouth was half open.
"Have you been drinking wine, Teresina?" asked Casanova striding towardsher.
"Yes. How did you know?" She blushed deeper, and in her embarrassmentshe moistened her lips with her tongue.
Casanova seized her by the shoulders, and, breathing in her face, drewher to the bed. She looked at him with great helpless eyes in whichthe light was now extinguished. But when she opened her mouth as if toscream, Casanova's aspect was so menacing that she was almost paralyzedwith fear, and let him do whatever he pleased.
He kissed her with a tender fierceness, whispering: "You must not tellthe Abbate anything about this, Teresina, not even in confession. Someday, when you have a lover or a husband, there is no reason why heshould know anything about it. You should always keep your own counsel.Never tell the truth to your father, your mother, or your sisters, thatit may be well with you on earth. Mark my words." As he spoke thusblasphemously, Teresina seemed to regard his utterance as a piousadmonition, for she seized his hand and kissed it reverently as if ithad been a priest's.
He laughed. "Come," he said, "come, little wife, we will walk arm in arminto the room downstairs!"
She seemed a little coy at first, but smiled with genuine gratification.
It was high time for them to go down, for they met Olivo coming up. Hewas flushed and wore a frown, so that Casanova promptly inferred thatthe Marchese or the Abbate had roused his suspicions by some coarse jestconcerning Teresina's prolonged absence. His brow cleared when he beheldCasanova on the threshold, standing arm in arm with the girl as if insport.
"I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting, Olivo," said Casanova. "I hadto finish my letter." He held the missive out to Olivo in proof of hiswords.
"Take it," said Olivo to Teresina, smoothing her rumpled hair. "Hand itto the messenger."
"Here are two gold pieces for the man," added Casanova. "He must bestirhimself, so that the letter may leave Mantua for Venice to-day. And askhim to tell my hostess at the inn that I shall return this evening."
"This evening?" exc
laimed Olivo. "Impossible!"
"Oh, well, we'll see," observed Casanova affably. "Here, Teresina, takethis, a gold piece for yourself." When Olivo demurred, Casanova added:"Put it in your moneybox, Teresina. That letter is worth any amount ofgold pieces!"
Teresina tripped away, and Casanova nodded to himself contentedly. Indays gone by he had possessed the girl's mother and grandmother also,and he thought it a particularly good joke that he was paying the littlewench for her favors under the very eyes of her father.