A few days later, I dined with the Pacha Osman and found Ismail Effendi there.
He received me with great friendliness, and I returned his attentions as politeness required. He reproached me, however, for having so long neglected his breakfast invitations.
I listened, smiled, and gave him no answer worth remembering. In such matters, the best apology is often a pleasant face.
But I could not refuse when he pressed me to dine at his house with Bonneval.
The dinner was followed by a spectacle which pleased me greatly. Neapolitan slaves, men and women, performed a pantomime and several Calabrian dances.
During the entertainment, Bonneval happened to mention the forlana.
Ismail turned to me at once.
"What dance is that?"
"A Venetian one," I said.
"Can it be shown?"
"With ease, if your excellency can give me a Venetian woman for a partner and a fiddler who knows the time."
"A Venetian woman?" he said, smiling.
A violin was brought. I took it and played the air, but I could not play and dance at the same time.
Ismail whispered to one of his eunuchs.
The man bowed and left the room.
A few minutes later he returned and murmured something in his master's ear. Ismail looked at me with triumph.
"I have found the partner you require."
"Then we need only the musician, and that can be easily arranged. We only need to send a note to the Venetian Embassy."
The note was sent at once, and the Bailo Dona dispatched one of his men who played the violin well enough for dancing.
When the musician was ready, the company settled into expectation.
Then a door opened.
A woman entered.
She was finely made, carried herself with assurance, and wore over her face a black velvet mask of the kind we call moretta in Venice.
At the sight of that little mask, my heart gave a leap.
The appearance of that masked woman surprised and delighted the whole company.
It would have been difficult to imagine a more charming apparition, not only on account of the beauty of that part of the face which the mask left exposed, but also for the elegance of her shape, the perfection of her figure, and the exquisite taste displayed in her costume.
The nymph took her place, I did the same, and we danced the forlana six times without stopping.
By the end, I was wet with perspiration and almost out of breath.
The forlana is the most violent of our national dances; it gives joy to the spectators and punishment to the dancer. My partner, however, stood beside me as fresh as if she had merely crossed the room. She seemed even to challenge me to a new performance.
At the round of the dance, which is the most difficult step, she seemed to have wings. I was astounded, for I had never seen anyone, even in Venice, dance the forlana so splendidly.
After a few minutes' rest, rather ashamed of my feeling tired, I approached her.
"Ancora sei," I said softly, "e poi basta, se non volete vedermi morire."
'Six more, and then enough, unless you wish to see me die.'
She would have answered me if she had been able, but she wore one of those cruel masks which forbid speech.
But a pressure of her hand which nobody could see made me guess all I wanted to know. The moment we finished dancing the eunuch opened the door, and my lovely partner disappeared.
Ismail overwhelmed me with thanks, but in truth I owed him mine. That dance was the only real pleasure I enjoyed in Constantinople.
"Is she from Venice?" I asked Ismail.
He only answered by a significant smile.
"The worthy Ismail," said Bonneval, as we left the house late in the evening, "has been today the dupe of his vanity, and I have no doubt that he is sorry already for what he has done."
"How so?"
"To bring out his beautiful slave to dance with you! According to the prejudices of this country it is injurious to his dignity, for you are sure to have kindled an amorous flame in the poor girl's breast. I would advise you to be careful and to keep on your guard, because she will try to get up some intrigue with you; but be prudent, for intrigues are always dangerous in Turkey."
I promised to be prudent, but I did not keep my promise.
Three or four days later, as I was walking through the street with my janissary behind me, an old slave woman approached and offered me a tobacco-bag embroidered in gold.
"One piaster," she said.
The bag was worth more. That made me attentive. As she placed it in my hand, her fingers pressed it in such a way that I felt paper hidden inside.
I observed that she tried to avoid the eyes of the janissary who was walking behind me; I gave her one piaster, she left me, and I proceeded toward Yusuf's house.
Yusuf was not at home.
I went into his garden, where I could be alone. There, under the shade of the trees, I opened the tobacco-bag and found a sealed note, without address.
It might have been meant for another. It might have been a trap. It might have been nothing, but my curiosity was excited to the highest pitch.
I broke the seal.
The note was written in decent Italian.
"Should you wish to see the person with whom you danced the forlana, take a walk towards evening in the garden beyond the fountain, and contrive to become acquainted with the old servant of the gardener by asking her for some lemonade. You may perchance manage to see your partner in the forlana without running any risk, even if you should happen to meet Ismail; she is a native of Venice. Be careful not to mention this invitation to any human being."
"I am not such a fool, my lovely countrywoman," I exclaimed, as if she had been present, and put the letter in my pocket.
At that very moment, a handsome elderly woman came out of a thicket.
She looked straight at me.
"M. Casanova," she asked, "what are you seeking here, and how have you seen me?"
"I was speaking to the wind," I answered. "I did not suppose anyone could hear me."
She did not trouble herself with apologies.
"I am very glad to have found this occasion," she said. "I wished to speak with you."
"I am from Rome," she continued. "I brought up Zelmi and taught her to sing and to play the harp."
At the name of Zelmi, I became attentive.
The old woman saw it and smiled.
"She is beautiful," she said. "More beautiful than her father has told you. She is gentle, obedient, lively, and full of feeling. If you saw her, you would certainly fall in love with her. But it is a shame that the law does not allow it"
"She sees us at this very moment," she added, "from behind that green window-blind, and we love you ever since Yusuf has informed us that you may, perhaps, become Zelmi's husband."
I felt my heart move in spite of myself.
"May I mention our conversation to Yusuf?" I enquired.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
I understood then that, if I pressed her, she might allow me to see her lovely pupil. Perhaps she had come to speak to me for that very purpose, but I felt great reluctance to do anything to displease my worthy host.
I had another reason of even greater importance: I was afraid of entering an intricate maze in which the sight of a turban hovering over me made me shudder.
Yusuf returned, and instead of appearing displeased at finding me with the Roman woman, he smiled.
"You must have enjoyed speaking with a native of Rome," he said. "And I must congratulate you also upon the delight you must have felt in dancing with one of the beauties from the harem of the voluptuous Ismail."
"Then it must be a pleasure seldom enjoyed, if it is so much talked of?"
"Very seldom indeed, for there is amongst us an invincible prejudice against exposing our lovely women to the eyes of other men; but everyone may do as he pleases in his own house: Ismail is a very worthy and a very intelligent man."
"Is the lady with whom I danced known?"
"I believe not. She wore a mask, and everybody knows that Ismail possesses half a dozen slaves of surpassing beauty."
I spent the day pleasantly with him.
When I left, I told my janissary to take me to Ismail's.
The servants knew me and allowed me to enter. I walked at once towards the part of the garden described in the note. The eunuch soon came to me.
"My master is not at home," he said, "he would be delighted to hear of your having taken a walk in the garden."
"I should like a glass of lemonade."
He bowed and led me to the summerhouse.
There I recognized the old woman who had sold me the tobacco-bag. She did not appear to know me. Her face remained calm, her eyes lowered, her hands busy.
The eunuch ordered her to bring me a glass of some drink which proved delicious. I offered money; he would not permit it.
We then walked together towards the fountain.
My heart beat faster than the occasion deserved.
Suddenly the eunuch stopped.
"We must go back," he said.
"Why?"
He pointed ahead to three ladies in the distance.
"For the sake of decency, it is necessary to avoid them."
I thanked him for his attentions, left my compliments for Ismail, and went away not dissatisfied with my first attempt, and with the hope of being more fortunate another time.
The next morning I received a letter from Ismail. He invited me to go fishing with him the following evening and added that he meant to enjoy the sport by moonlight.
That last word set my imagination working at once.
Moonlight, a garden, a boat, the memory of the masked Venetian, and Ismail's sudden politeness arranged themselves in my mind with dangerous facility.
I began to fancy that he might be capable of granting me an interview with the beautiful slave. I did not even object to his presence.
I begged permission of Chevalier Venier to stop out of the palace for one night, but he granted it with the greatest difficulty, because he was afraid of some love affair and of the results it might have.
I took care to calm his anxiety as much as I could, but without acquainting him with all the circumstances of the case, for I thought I was wise in being discreet.
The next evening I arrived at the appointed hour.
Ismail received me with perfect cordiality, but I was surprised when I found myself alone with him in the boat.
We had two rowers and a man at the helm. The moon was high, the water calm, and the city lay behind us with its lights trembling upon the Bosphorus.
We fished for some time and caught enough to make the excursion respectable. The fish were fried in oil and served to us later in the summerhouse.
The night was beautiful.
Alone with Ismail, and remembering his unnatural tastes, I did not feel entirely at ease.
Despite what M. de Bonneval had told me, I was afraid lest the Turk should take a fancy to give me too great a proof of his friendship, and I did not relish our tete-a-tete. But my fears were groundless.
"Let us leave this place quietly," said Ismail, "I have just heard a slight noise which heralds something that will amuse us."
He dismissed the attendants, then took my hand.
"Let us go to a small room, the key of which I luckily have with me, but let us be careful not to make any noise. That room has a window overlooking the fountain where I think that two or three of my beauties have just gone to bathe. We will see them and enjoy a very pleasing sight, for they do not imagine that anyone is looking at them. They know that the place is forbidden to everybody except me."
We entered the room, we went to the window, and, the moon shining right over the basin of the fountain, we saw three nymphs who, now swimming, now standing or sitting on the marble steps, offered themselves to our eyes in every possible position, and in all the attitudes of graceful voluptuousness.
Dear reader, I must not paint in too vivid colors the details of that beautiful picture, but if nature has endowed you with an ardent imagination and with equally ardent senses, you will easily imagine the fearful havoc which that unique, wonderful, and enchanting sight must have made upon my poor body.