One day, as we were leaving the dinner table, a gentleman handed me a roll of gold which he had lost upon trust.
Madame F. saw it.
"What do you do with your money?" she asked abruptly.
"I keep it, madam, as a provision against possible losses."
"But as you do not indulge in any expense it would be better for you not to play; it is time wasted."
"Time given to pleasure is never time lost, madam; the only time which a young man wastes is that which is consumed in weariness, because when he is a prey to ennui he is likely to fall a prey to love, and to be despised by the object of his affection."
"Very likely," she said, "but you amuse yourself with hoarding up your money, and shew yourself to be a miser, and a miser is not less contemptible than a man in love."
She looked at my hands.
"Why do you not buy yourself a pair of gloves?"
You may be sure that at these words the laughter was all on her side, and my vexation was all the greater because I could not deny that she was quite right.
As adjutant, it was my duty to offer my arm to the ladies when they went to their carriages, and it was not proper to fulfil that duty without gloves.
I felt mortified, and the reproach of avarice hurt me deeply. I would a thousand times rather that she had laid my error to a want of education.
Yet the human heart is full of contradictions.
Instead of making amends by following her advice and adopting an appearance which my state of finances easily enables me to, I did not buy gloves.
I avoided her as much as I could and left her to the dull and insipid gallantry of Sanzonio, who wore gloves every day. It was true that his hands were properly dressed.
Unfortunately, the rest of him was not so fortunate. His teeth were spoiled, his breath offensive, his wig ridiculous, and his face had the colour and texture of old yellow parchment.
I spent my days in a continual state of rage and spite.
The absurdity was that I felt unhappy because I could not control my hatred for that woman whom, in good conscience, I could not find guilty of anything.
She neither loved nor disliked me. That was natural enough. I was young, vain, eager to please, and well-disposed to enjoy myself but I had become -without intentional malice on her part- an eyesore to her and the butt of her bantering jokes, which my sensitiveness exaggerated greatly.
I wanted to punish her and to make her repent.
The thought followed me everywhere. At table, in the coffee-house, at play, even while my servant dressed my hair, I would think of devoting all my intelligence and all my money to kindle an amorous passion in her heart, and then to revenge myself by treating her with contempt.
But my reason soon laughed at my plan.
Suppose I succeeded. Suppose I found the road to her heart. Was I the man to resist such a woman once she had opened it? Could I treat with contempt the beauty which already troubled me while it was hostile?
Certainly not. I knew myself too well to trust my strength in the hour of victory.
But I was the pet child of fortune, and my position was suddenly altered.
D. R. sent me one evening with dispatches to M. de Condulmer, captain of a galeazza.
I had to wait until midnight before I could deliver them. When I returned, M. D. R. had already retired, and I could not make my report.
The next morning, as soon as he was visible, I went to him.
I had been in his room only a few minutes when his valet entered with a letter.
"Madame F.'s adjutant is waiting for an answer," he said.
D. R. took the letter, read it, and changed colour. Then he tore it to pieces, threw the fragments on the floor, and stamped on them.
I stood silent.
A wise adjutant sees everything and knows nothing.
He walked up and down the room for some time. His anger did not speak, which made it more serious. At last he sat, wrote a reply, rang, and gave it to the adjutant waiting outside.
Then, almost at once, he recovered himself.
He returned to the dispatch from M. de Condulmer, read it to the end, and ordered me to write a letter. I obeyed. He was looking over what I had written when the valet came back.
"Madame F. desires to see M. Casanova."
D. R. looked at me, then at the valet.
"I have no further need of you at present," he said. "You may go."
I bowed and left.
I had not gone ten steps when he called me back.
"One thing," he said. "Remember that your duty is to know nothing."
"I know it perfectly, sir."
That answer satisfied him.
I ran to Madame F-----'s house, very eager to know what she wanted with me.
I was admitted at once.
Madame F. was sitting up in bed. Her face was flushed, her eyes still red from the tears she had evidently just been shedding.
My heart began to beat quickly, though I did not yet know why.
"Pray be seated," she said. "I wish to speak with you."
"Madam," I answered, "I am not worthy of so great a favour, and I have not yet done anything to deserve it; allow me to remain standing."
She very likely recollected that she had never been so polite before, and dared not press me any further.
For a moment she lowered her eyes, collected herself, and spoke.
"Last evening my husband lost two hundred sequins upon trust at your faro bank; he believed that amount to be in my hands, and I must therefore give it to him immediately, as he is bound in honour to pay his losses to-day. Unfortunately I have disposed of the money, and I am in great trouble."
She stopped, then forced herself to continue.
"I thought you might tell Maroli that I have paid you the amount lost by my husband. Here is a ring of some value; keep it until the 1st of January, when I will return the two hundred sequins for which I am ready to give you my note of hand."
She held out the ring.
I looked at it, then at her.
The proud woman who had wounded me with a laugh now asked my help from her bed, with tears scarcely dry upon her face. Vengeance presented itself, dressed in the most tempting form. I had only to be cold, and she would feel all that I had felt.
I was not cold.
"I accept your note, madam," I said, "but I cannot consent to deprive you of your ring. I must also tell you that M. F---- must go himself to the bank, or send someone there, to redeem his debt. Within ten minutes you shall have the amount you require."
I bowed and left before she could answer.
I returned shortly afterwards with the two hundred ducats. She had written the note. I put it in my pocket and placed the money before her.
I bowed to take my leave, but she addressed to me these precious words:
"I believe, sir, that if I had known that you were so well disposed to oblige me, I could not have made up my mind to beg that service from you."
"Well, madam," I replied, "for the future be quite certain that there is not a man in the world capable of refusing you such an insignificant service whenever you will condescend to ask for it in person."
"What you say is very complimentary," she answered, "but I trust never to find myself again under the necessity of making such a cruel experiment."
I left Madame F. thinking of the cleverness of her answer.
She did not say that I was mistaken as I expected. Such a confession would have caused her some humiliation.
She knew very well that I had been with M. D. R. when her note arrived, and she could not doubt that I was are of the refusal that she met with.
The fact of her not mentioning it proved to me that she was jealous of her own dignity; it afforded me great gratification, and I thought her worthy of adoration.
I also saw clearly that she did not love M. D. R., and that he did not love her. This discovery filled me with joy.
From that moment I felt I was in love with her, and I conceived the hope that she might return my ardent affection.
The first thing I did on returning to my room was to take out her note of hand.
I read it once, then crossed out every word with ink, leaving only her name. I did it carefully, so that no one could ever guess the contents. Then I placed the paper in an envelope, sealed it, and carried it to a public notary.
He gave me a receipt stating that the envelope would be delivered only to Madame F., and only if she herself requested it.
That evening M. F. came to the bank.
He paid me the two hundred sequins, then sat down to play with ready money, and won some fifty ducats.
What surprised me most was that M. D. R. continued to treat Madame F. with the same graciousness as before, and that she, on her side, showed no change towards him. He did not even ask why she had sent for me.
But if she did not seem to change her manner towards my master, it was a very different case with me, for whenever she was opposite to me at dinner, she often addressed herself to me, and she thus gave me many opportunities of showing my education and my wit in amusing stories or in remarks, in which I took care to blend instruction with witty jests.
I had then the happy talent of making others laugh while I kept a serious countenance myself. I had learnt that accomplishment from M. de Malipiero, my first master in the art of good breeding, who used to say to me,
"If you wish your audience to cry, you must shed tears yourself, but if you wish to make them laugh you must contrive to look as serious as a judge."
Everything I said in Madame F.'s presence had only one aim: to please her. But I took care that she should not see the aim too plainly. I never looked at her unless she spoke to me and I never addressed her without necessity.
I wanted to force her curiosity, to compel her to suspect nay, to guess my secret, but without giving her any advantage over me: it was necessary for me to proceed by slow degrees.
Meanwhile, I enjoyed the change in my position. My money, that magical talisman, and my good conduct obtained me a consideration greater than I could have ever obtained by my rank, my age, or any talent I might have shown in the profession I had adopted.