Produced by David Widger
MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798
THE ETERNAL QUEST, Volume 3b—RETURN TO PARIS
THE RARE UNABRIDGED LONDON EDITION OF 1894 TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR MACHEN TOWHICH HAS BEEN ADDED THE CHAPTERS DISCOVERED BY ARTHUR SYMONS.THE ETERNAL QUESTRETURN TO PARIS
CHAPTER V
My Fortune in Holland—My Return to Paris with Young Pompeati
Amongst the letters which were waiting for me was one from thecomptroller-general, which advised me that twenty millions in Governmentsecurities had been placed in the hands of M. d'Afri, who was not to gobeyond a loss of eight per cent.; and another letter from my good patron,M. de Bernis, telling me to do the best I could, and to be assured thatthe ambassador would be instructed to consent to whatever bargain mightbe made, provided the rate was not more disadvantageous than that of theexchange at Paris. Boaz, who was astonished at the bargain I had madewith my shares, wanted to discount the Government securities for me, andI should very likely have agreed to his terms if he had not required meto give him three months, and the promise that the agreement should holdeven in the case of peace being concluded in the meanwhile. It was notlong before I saw that I should do well to get back to Amsterdam, but Idid not care to break my word to Therese, whom I had promised to meet atthe Hague. I received a letter from her while I was at the play, and theservant who brought it told me he was waiting to conduct me to her. Isent my own servant home, and set out on my quest.
My guide made me climb to the fourth floor of a somewhat wretched house,and there I found this strange woman in a small room, attended by her sonand daughter. The table stood in the midst of the room, and was coveredwith a black cloth, and the two candles standing upon it made it looklike some sort of sepulchral altar. The Hague was a Court town. I wasrichly dressed; my elaborate attire made the saddest possible contrastwith the gloom of my surroundings. Therese, dressed in black and seatedbetween her children at that black table, reminded me of Medea. To seethese two fair young creatures vowed to a lot of misery and disgrace wasa sad and touching sight. I took the boy between my arms, and pressinghim to my breast called him my son. His mother told him to look upon meas his father from henceforth. The lad recognized me; he remembered, muchto my delight, seeing me in the May of 1753, in Venice, at MadameManzoni's. He was slight but strong; his limbs were well proportioned,and his features intellectual. He was thirteen years old.
His sister sat perfectly still, apparently waiting for her turn to come.I took her on my knee, and as I embraced her, nature herself seemed totell me that she was my daughter. She took my kisses in silence, but itwas easy to see that she thought herself preferred to her brother, andwas charmed with the idea. All her clothing was a slight frock, and I wasable to feel every limb and to kiss her pretty little body all over,delighted that so sweet a being owed her existence to me.
"Mamma, dear," said she, "is not this fine gentleman the same we saw atAmsterdam, and who was taken for my papa because I am like him? But thatcannot be, for my papa is dead."
"So he is, sweetheart; but I may be your dear friend, mayn't I? Would youlike to have me for a friend?"
"Yes, yes!" she cried, and throwing her arms about my neck gave me athousand kisses, which I returned with delight.
After we had talked and laughed together we sat down at table, and theheroine Therese gave me a delicate s