The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Complete. Giacomo Casanova

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СКАЧАТЬ she is truly his wife; all perfectly regular. If she is his wife, he has only to convince them by shewing a certificate of marriage, but if she is not, of course he must go to prison with her. Yet it need not happen, for I undertake to arrange everything in a friendly manner for a few sequins. I have only to exchange a few words with the chief of the ‘sbirri’, and they will all go away. If you can speak Latin, you had better go in, and make him listen to reason.”

      “Who has broken open the door of his room?”

      “Nobody; I have opened it myself with the key, as is my duty.”

      “Yes, the duty of a highway robber, but not of an honest inn-keeper.”

      Such infamous dealing aroused my indignation, and I made up my mind to interfere. I enter the room, although I had still my nightcap on, and inform the gentleman of the cause of the disturbance. He answers with a laugh that, in the first place, it was impossible to say whether the person who was in bed with him was a woman, for that person had only been seen in the costume of a military officer, and that, in the second place, he did not think that any human being had a right to compel him to say whether his bed-fellow was his wife or his mistress, even supposing that his companion was truly a woman.

      “At all events,” he added, “I am determined not to give one crown to arrange the affair, and to remain in bed until my door is shut. The moment I am dressed, I will treat you to an amusing denouement of the comedy. I will drive away all those scoundrels at the point of my sword.”

      I then see in a corner a broad sword, and a Hungarian costume looking like a military uniform. I ask whether he is an officer.

      “I have written my name and profession,” he answers, “in the hotel book.”

      Astonished at the absurdity of the inn-keeper, I ask him whether it is so; he confesses it, but adds that the clergy have the right to prevent scandal.

      “The insult you have offered to that officer, Mr. Landlord, will cost you very dear.”

      His only answer is to laugh in my face. Highly enraged at seeing such a scoundrel laugh at me, I take up the officer’s quarrel warmly, and asked him to entrust his passport to me for a few minutes.

      “I have two,” he says; “therefore I can let you have one.” And taking the document out of his pocket-book, he hands it to me. The passport was signed by Cardinal Albani. The officer was a captain in a Hungarian regiment belonging to the empress and queen. He was from Rome, on his way to Parma with dispatches from Cardinal Albani Alexander to M. Dutillot, prime minister of the Infante of Parma.

      At the same moment, a man burst into the room, speaking very loudly, and asked me to tell the officer that the affair must be settled at once, because he wanted to leave Cesena immediately.

      “Who are you?” I asked the man.

      He answered that he was the ‘vetturino’ whom the captain had engaged. I saw that it was a regular put-up thing, and begged the captain to let me attend to the business, assuring him that I would settle it to his honour and advantage.

      “Do exactly as you please,” he said.

      Then turning towards the ‘vetturino’, I ordered him to bring up the captain’s luggage, saying that he would be paid at once. When he had done so, I handed him eight sequins out of my own purse, and made him give me a receipt in the name of the captain, who could only speak German, Hungarian, and Latin. The vetturino went away, and the ‘sbirri’ followed him in the greatest consternation, except two who remained.

      “Captain,” I said to the Hungarian, “keep your bed until I return. I am going now to the bishop to give him an account of these proceedings, and make him understand that he owes you some reparation. Besides, General Spada is here, and....”

      “I know him,” interrupted the captain, “and if I had been aware of his being in Cesena, I would have shot the landlord when he opened my door to those scoundrels.”

      I hurried over my toilet, and without waiting for my hair to be dressed I proceeded to the bishop’s palace, and making a great deal of noise I almost compelled the servants to take me to his room. A lackey who was at the door informed me that his lordship was still in bed.

      “Never mind, I cannot wait.”

      I pushed him aside and entered the room. I related the whole affair to the bishop, exaggerating the uproar, making much of the injustice of such proceedings, and railing at a vexatious police daring to molest travellers and to insult the sacred rights of individuals and nations.

      The bishop without answering me referred me to his chancellor, to whom I repeated all I had said to the bishop, but with words calculated to irritate rather than to soften, and certainly not likely to obtain the release of the captain. I even went so far as to threaten, and I said that if I were in the place of the officer I would demand a public reparation. The priest laughed at my threats; it was just what I wanted, and after asking me whether I had taken leave of my senses, the chancellor told me to apply to the captain of the ‘sbirri’.

      “I shall go to somebody else,” I said, “reverend sir, besides the captain of the ‘sbirri’.”

      Delighted at having made matters worse, I left him and proceeded straight to the house of General Spada, but being told that he could not be seen before eight o’clock, I returned to the inn.

      The state of excitement in which I was, the ardour with which I had made the affair mine, might have led anyone to suppose that my indignation had been roused only by disgust at seeing an odious persecution perpetrated upon a stranger by an unrestrained, immoral, and vexatious police; but why should I deceive the kind reader, to whom I have promised to tell the truth; I must therefore say that my indignation was real, but my ardour was excited by another feeling of a more personal nature. I fancied that the woman concealed under the bed-clothes was a beauty. I longed to see her face, which shame, most likely, had prevented her from shewing. She had heard me speak, and the good opinion that I had of myself did not leave the shadow of a doubt in my mind that she would prefer me to her captain.

      The door of the room being still open, I went in and related to the captain all I had done, assuring him that in the course of the day he would be at liberty to continue his journey at the bishop’s expense, for the general would not fail to obtain complete satisfaction for him. He thanked me warmly, gave back the eight ducats I had paid for him, and said that he would not leave the city till the next day.

      “From what country,” I asked him, “is your travelling companion?”

      “From France, and he only speaks his native language.”

      “Then you speak French?”

      “Not one word.”

      “That is amusing! Then you converse in pantomime?”

      “Exactly.”

      “I pity you, for it is a difficult language.”

      “Yes, to express the various shades of thought, but in the material part of our intercourse we understand each other quite well.”

      “May I invite myself to breakfast with you?”

      “Ask my friend whether he has any objection.”

      “Amiable companion of the captain,” I said in French, “will you kindly accept me as a third guest at the breakfast-table?”

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