Paris | Page 8

He was only too glad
to get rid of me. I felt unhappy because I could not bear to be a charge
on a man whom I could not love, and with whom I could not even
exchange one thought. Recollect also that I could not find consolation
in the idea that I was ministering to his happiness, for I had only
inspired him with a passing fancy which he had himself valued at ten
sequins. I could not help feeling that his fancy, once gratified, was not
likely at his time of life to become a more lasting sentiment, and I
could therefore only be a burden to him, for he was not wealthy.
Besides, there was a miserable consideration which increased my secret
sorrow. I thought myself bound in duty to carress him, and on his side,
as he thought that he ought to pay me in the same money, I was afraid
of his ruining his health for me, and that idea made me very unhappy.
Having no love for each other, we allowed a foolish feeling of regard to

make both of us uncomfortable. We lavished, for the sake of a
well-meaning but false decorum, that which belongs to love alone.
Another thing troubled me greatly. I was afraid lest people might
suppose that I was a source of profit to him. That idea made me feel the
deepest shame, yet, whenever I thought of it, I could not help admitting
that such a supposition, however false, was not wanting in probability.
It is owing to that feeling that you found me so reserved towards you,
for I was afraid that you might harbour that fearful idea if I allowed,
you to read in my looks the favourable impression which you had made
on my heart."
"Then it was not owing to a feeling of self-love?"
"No, I confess it, for you could but judge me as I deserved. I had been
guilty of the folly now known to you because my father-in-law
intended to bury me in a convent, and that did not suit my taste. But,
dearest friend, you must forgive me if, I cannot confide even to you the
history of my life."
"I respect your secret, darling; you need not fear any intrusion from me
on that subject. All we have to do is to love one another, and not to
allow any dread of the future to mar our actual felicity."
The next day, after a night of intense enjoyment, I found myself more
deeply in love than before, and the next three months were spent by us
in an intoxication of delight.
At nine o'clock the next morning the teacher of Italian was announced.
I saw a man of respectable appearance, polite, modest, speaking little
but well, reserved in his answers, and with the manners of olden times.
We conversed, and I could not help laughing when he said, with an air
of perfect good faith, that a Christian could only admit the system of
Copernicus as a clever hypothesis. I answered that it was the system of
God Himself because it was that of nature, and that it was not in Holy
Scripture that the laws of science could be learned.
The teacher smiled in a manner which betrayed the Tartufe, and if I had
consulted only my own feelings I should have dismissed the poor man,

but I thought that he might amuse Henriette and teach her Italian; after
all it was what I wanted from him. My dear wife told him that she
would give him six libbre for a lesson of two hours: the libbra of Parma
being worth only about threepence, his lessons were not very expensive.
She took her first lesson immediately and gave him two sequins, asking
him to purchase her some good novels.
Whilst my dear Henriette was taking her lesson, I had some
conversation with the dressmaker, in order to ascertain whether she was
a relative of mine.
"What does your husband do?" I asked her.
"He is steward to the Marquis of Sissa."
"Is your father still alive?"
"No, sir, he is dead."
"What was his family name?"
"Scotti."
"Are your husband's parents still alive?"
"His father is dead, but his mother is still alive, and resides with her
uncle, Canon Casanova."
That was enough. The good woman was my Welsh cousin, and her
children were my Welsh nephews. My niece Jeanneton was not pretty;
but she appeared to be a good girl. I continued my conversation with
the mother, but I changed the topic.
"Are the Parmesans satisfied with being the subjects of a Spanish
prince?"
"Satisfied? Well, in that case, we should be easily pleased, for we are
now in a regular maze. Everything is upset, we do not know