Marinetta came in with the gaiety of a girl entering a festival rather than a bedroom.
She ran at once to lock the door, then returned to me smiling, her eyes bright with expectation and triumph.
She was younger than Cecilia by a year, yet nature had formed her earlier and with greater boldness. anxious to convince me of her superiority.
But beneath her eagerness I soon detected anxiety.
Before abandoning herself to pleasure, she began to speak of it. With charming seriousness she explained all she knew of love, all she imagined, all she had guessed from whispers, overheard conversations and the dangerous education that girls acquire in theatres long before they understand the meaning of the lessons.
She spoke without order and without reserve, mixing innocence with audacity in a manner that amused me greatly.
While she talked, I understood her fear.
She dreaded lest I should not find her a maiden, and that I might reproach her for it.
Her anxiety pleased me, and I gave her a new confidence by telling her that nature had refused to many young girls what is called maidenhood, and that only a fool could be angry with a girl for such a reason.
She listened with visible relief.
"You truly think so?"
"Indeed!"
That answer restored her courage entirely. Her embarrassment vanished; tenderness took its place. I was soon obliged to admit that she possessed more warmth, more imagination, and perhaps more instinct than her sister.
"I am delighted you find me so," she said, laughing softly. "we must not sleep at all throughout the night."
"On the contrary," I answered, drawing her towards me, "Sleep, my darling, will prove our friend, and our strength renewed by repose will reward you in the morning for what you may suppose lost time."
And truly, after a quiet sleep, the morning was for her a succession of fresh triumphs, and I crowned her happiness by sending her away with three doubloons, which she carried to her mother.
The good woman received them, no doubt, as a fresh mark of Providence.
I went out afterwards to draw more money from the banker, as I did not know what might happen during my journey.
I had enjoyed myself, but enjoyment had cost me dear. Cecilia had had her share; Marinetta had had hers; and there remained Bellino, who, if my suspicions proved true, must not find me less liberal than I had been with the two sisters.
The matter was to be decided that day. I fancied myself certain of the result, which is often the surest way of being deceived.
There are some people who pretend that life is only a succession of misfortunes, which is as much as to say that life itself is a misfortune; but if life is a misfortune, death must be exactly the reverse and therefore death must be happiness, since death is the very reverse of life. That deduction may appear too finely drawn.
But those who say that life is a succession of misfortunes are certainly either ill or poor; for, if they enjoyed good health, if they had cheerfulness in their heart and money in their purse, if they had for their enjoyment a Cecilia, a Marinetta, and even a more lovely beauty in perspective, they would soon entertain a very different opinion of life!
I hold them to be a race of pessimists, recruited amongst beggarly philosophers and knavish, atrabilious theologians.
If pleasure does exist, and if life is necessary to enjoy pleasure, then life is happiness.
There are misfortunes, as I know by experience; but the very existence of such misfortunes proves that the sum-total of happiness is greater.
Because a few thorns are to be found in a basket full of roses, is the existence of those beautiful flowers to be denied?
No; it is a slander to deny that life is happiness.
When I am in a dark room, it pleases me greatly to see through a window an immense horizon before me.
As supper-time drew near, I went to Don Sancio's lodging.
I found him in magnificently-furnished apartments. The table was loaded with silver plate, and his servants were in livery.
He was alone, but all his guests arrived soon after me. Cecilia came first, then Marina, both dressed with care and pleased with themselves. Bellino entered last.
He was dressed as a woman.
Whether from caprice, taste, or calculation, I could not tell. But the effect was complete. The two sisters were pretty; beside him, they were completely thrown into the shade.
My last doubt vanished.
I leaned towards Don Sancio.
"Are you satisfied now," I said, "that Bellino is a woman?"
He looked at Bellino with polite indifference, then at me with surprise.
"Woman or man, what do I care! I think he is a very pretty 'castrato', and 'I have seen many as good-looking as he is."
"But are you certain he is a castrato?"
"'Valgame Dios'!" answered the grave Castilian, "I have not the slightest wish to ascertain the truth."
Oh, how widely different our thoughts were! I admired in him the wisdom of which I was so much in need, and did not venture upon any more indiscreet questions.
During supper I tried to attend to the dishes, the wine, the conversation. It was useless. My greedy eyes returned again and again to Bellino.
The curve of the cheek, the softness of the throat, the manner in which the dress obeyed the body rather than concealed it, all conspired against my reason.
My vicious nature caused me to feel intense voluptuousness in believing him to be of that sex to which I wanted him to belong.
Don Sancio's supper was excellent, and, as a matter of course, superior to mine; otherwise the pride of the Castilian would have felt humbled.
As a general rule, men are not satisfied with what is good; they want the best, or, to speak more to the point, the most.
He had given the matter serious attention. There were white truffles, several kinds of shellfish, the best fish of the Adriatic, and well-chosen wines. Dry champagne, peralta, sherry, pedro ximénez, all appeared in their turn.
After that supper, Bellino sang with a voice of such beauty that it deprived us of the small amount of reason left in us by the excellent wine.
His movements, the expression of his looks, his gait, his walk, his countenance, his voice, and, above all, my own instinct, which told me that I could not possibly feel for a castrato what I felt for Bellino, confirmed me in my hopes; yet it was necessary that my eyes should ascertain the truth.
After many compliments to our host and a thousand thanks for his noble supper, we took leave of the grand Spaniard and returned to my room.
I shut the door, turned to Bellino, and spoke without ornament.
"You promised to satisfy me. Keep your word tonight, or I will leave you here at daybreak."
I took Bellino by the hand, and we sat near the fire.
Cecilia and Marina were still in the room. I dismissed them.
When the door closed, I turned to Bellino and said,
"Bellino, everything must have an end; you have promised: it will soon be over. If you are what you represent yourself to be, I will let you go back to your own room; if you are what I believe you to be, and if you consent to remain with me to-night, I will give you one hundred sequins, and we will start together tomorrow morning."
He looked at the fire rather than at me.
"You must go alone, and forgive me if I cannot fulfil my promise. I am what I told you, and I can neither reconcile myself to the idea of exposing my shame before you, nor lay myself open to the terrible consequences that might follow the solution of your doubts."
"There can be no consequences," I replied, "since there will be an end to it at the moment I have assured myself that you are unfortunate enough to be what you say, and without ever mentioning the circumstances again, I promise to take you with me to-morrow and to leave you at Rimini."
"No."
The word was soft but firm.
"My mind is made up. I cannot satisfy your curiosity."
Driven to madness by his words, I was very near using violence, but subduing my angry feelings, I endeavored to succeed by gentle means and by going straight to the spot where the mystery could be solved.
I was very near it, when his hand opposed a very strong resistance.
I repeated my efforts, but Bellino, rising suddenly, repulsed me, and I found myself undone.
After a few moments of calm, thinking I should take him by surprise, I extended my hand, but I drew back terrified, for I fancied that I had recognized in him a man, and a degraded man, contemptible less on account of his degradation than for the want of feeling I thought I could read on his countenance.
Disgusted, confused, and almost blushing for myself, I sent him away.
His sisters came to my room a little later. I dismissed them gently and sent word to Bellino that he might travel with me, and that he had nothing more to fear from my indiscretion.
Yet, in spite of the conviction I thought I had acquired, Bellino, even such as I believe him to be, filled my thoughts; I could not make it out.
Early the next morning I left Ancona with him, distracted by the tears of the two charming sisters and loaded with the blessings of the mother who, with beads in hand, mumbled her 'paternoster', and repeated her constant theme: "Dio provederà. God will provide."
The trust placed in Providence by most of those persons who earn their living by some profession forbidden by religion is neither absurd, nor false, nor deceitful; it is real and even godly, for it flows from an excellent source.
Whatever may be the ways of Providence, human beings must always acknowledge it in its action, and those who call upon Providence independently of all external consideration must, at the bottom, be worthy, although guilty of transgressing its laws.
'Pulchra Laverna,
Da mihi fallere; da justo sanctoque videri;
Noctem peccatis, et fraudibus objice nubem.'
'Beautiful Laverna, grant me the art of deception; grant me to appear just and holy; spread night and cloud over my sins and frauds.'
Such was the way in which, in the days of Horace, robbers addressed their goddess.
I once knew a Jesuit who maintained that Horace had blundered in the grammar of that verse. Perhaps he was right. There have been ignorant men even among Jesuits, and robbers most likely have but little respect for the rules of grammar.