had sent her the next day a silver stove, which he had filled with a hundred thousand pezzos duros in gold, amounting to three hundred thousand francs in French money. Since then Madame Pichona lived at her ease and received good company. She gave me a warm reception when I called on her, but her looks were sad. I began by saying that as I had not found her in her box on the last ball night I had ventured to come to enquire after her health. "I did not go," said she, "for on that day died my only friend the Duke of Medina-Celi. He was ill for three days." "I sympathise with you. Was the duke an old man?" "Hardly sixty. You have seen him; he did not look his age." "Where have I seen him?" 37 "Did he not bring you to my box?" "You don't say so! He did not tell me his name and I never saw him before." I was grieved to hear of his death; it was in all probability a misfortune for me as well as Madame Pichona. All the duke's estate passed to a son of miserly disposition, who in his turn had a son who was beginning to evince the utmost extravagance. I was told that the family of Medina-Celi enjoys thirty titles of nobility. One day a young man called on me to offer me, as a foreigner, his services in a country which he knew thoroughly. "I am Count Marazzini de Plaisance," he began, "I am not rich and I have come to Madrid to try and make my fortune. I hope to enter the bodyguard of his Catholic majesty. I have been indulging in the amusements of the town ever since I came. I saw you at the ball with an unknown beauty. I don't ask you to tell me her name, but if you are fond of novelty I can introduce you to all the handsomest girls in Madrid." If my experience had taught me such wholesome lessons as I might have expected, I should have shown the impudent rascal the door. Alas! I began to be weary of my experience and the fruits of it; I began to feel the horrors of a great void; I had need of some slight passion to wile away the dreary hours. I therefore made this Mercury welcome, and told him I should be obliged by his presenting me to some beauties, neither too easy nor too difficult to access. "Come with me to the ball," he rejoined, "and I will shew you some women worthy of your attention." The ball was to take place the same evening, and I agreed; he asked me to give him some dinner, and I agreed to that also. After din-ner he told me he had no money, and I was foolish enough to give him a doubloon. The fellow, who was ugly, blind of one eye, and full of impudence, shewed me a score of pretty women, whose histories he told me, and seeing me to be interested in one of them he promised to bring her to a procuress. He kept his word, but he cost me dear; for the girl only served for an evening's amusement. Towards the end of the carnival the noble Don Diego, the father of Donna Ignazia, brought me my boots, and the thanks of his wife and himself for the pleasure I had given her at the ball. "She is as good as she is beautiful," said I, "she deserves to prosper, and if I have not called on her it is only that I am anxious to do nothing which could injure her reputation." "Her reputation, Senor Caballero, is above all reproach, and I shall be delighted to see you whenever you honour me with a call." "The carnival draws near to its end," I replied, "and if Donna Ignazia would like to go to another ball I shall be happy to take her again." "You must come and ask her yourself." "I will not fail to do so." I was anxious to see how the pious girl, who had tried to make me pay a hundred doubloons for the chance of having her after her marriage, would greet me, so I called the same day. I found her with her mother, rosary in hand, while her noble father was botch-ing old boots. I laughed inwardly at being obliged to give the title of don to a cobbler who would not make boots because he was an hidalgo. Hidalgo, meaning noble, is derived from 'higo de albo', son of somebody, and the people, whom the nobles call 'higos de nade', sons of nobody, often revenge themselves by calling the nobles hideputas, that is to say, sons of harlots. Donna Ignazia rose politely from the floor, where she was sitting cross-legged, after the Moorish fashion. I have seen exalted ladies in this position at Madrid, and it is very common in the antechambers of the Court and the palace of the Princess of the Asturias. The Spanish women sit in church in the same way, and the rapidity with which they can change this posture to a kneeling or a standing one is something amazing. Donna Ignazia thanked me for honouring her with a visit, adding that she would never have gone to the ball if it had not been for me, and that she never hoped to go to it again, as I had doubtless found someone else more worthy of my attentions. "I have not found anyone worthy to be preferred before you," I replied, "and if you would like to go to the ball again I should be 38 most happy to take you." The father and mother were delighted with the pleasure I was about to give to their beloved daughter. As the ball was to take place the same evening, I gave the mother a doubloon to get a mask and domino. She went on her errand, and, as Don Diego also went out on some business, I found myself alone with the girl. I took the opportunity of telling her that if she willed I would be hers, as I adored her, but that I could not sigh for long. "What can you ask, and what can I offer, since I must keep myself pure for my husband?" "You should abandon yourself to me without reserve, and you may be sure that I should respect your innocence." I then proceeded to deliver a gentle attack, which she repulsed, with a serious face. I stopped directly, telling her that she would find me polite and respectful, but not in the least affectionate, for the rest of the evening. Her face had blushed a vivid scarlet, and she replied that her sense of duty obliged her to repulse me in spite of herself. I liked this metaphysical line of argument. I saw that I had only to destroy the idea of duty in her and all the rest would follow. What I had to do was to enter into an argument, and to bear away the prize directly I saw her at a loss for an answer. "If your duty," I began, "forces you to repulse me in spite of yourself, your duty is a burden on you. If it is a burden on you, it is your enemy, and if it is your enemy why do you suffer it thus lightly to gain the victory? If you were your own friend, you would at once expel this insolent enemy from your coasts." "That may not be." "Yes, it may. Only shut your eyes." "Like that?" "Yes." I immediately laid hands on a tender place; she repulsed me, but more gently and not so seriously as before. "You may, of course, seduce me," she said, "but if you really love me you will spare me the shame." "Dearest Ignazia, there is no shame in a girl giving herself up to the man she loves. Love justifies all things. If you do not love me I
ask nothing of you."
"But how shall I convince you that I am actuated by love and not by complaisance?" "Leave me to do what I like, and my self-esteem will help me to believe you."
"But as I cannot be certain that you will believe me, my duty plainly points to a refusal." "Very good, but you will make me sad and cold."
"Then I shall be sad, too."
At these encouraging words I embraced her, and obtained some solid favours with one hardy hand. She made no opposition, and I
was well pleased with what I had got; and for a first attempt I could not well expect more.
At this juncture the mother came in with the dominos and gloves. I refused to accept the change, and went away to return in my carriage, as before.
Thus the first step had been taken, and Donna Ignazia felt it would be ridiculous not to join in with my conversation at the ball which all tended to procuring the pleasure of spending our nights together. She found me affectionate all the evening, and at supper I did my best to get her everything she liked. I made her see that the part she had at last taken was worthy of praise, and not blame.
I filled her pockets with sweets, and put into my own pockets two bottles of ratafia, which I handed over to the mother, who was
39
asleep in the carriage. Donna Ignazia gratefully refused the quadruple I wished to give her, saying that if it were in my power to make such presents, I might give the money to her lover whenever he called on me.
"Certainly," I answered, "but what shall I say to prevent his taking offence?"
"Tell him that it is on account of what he asked you. He is poor, and I am sure he is in despair at not seeing me in the window tonight. I shall tell him I only went to the ball with you to please my father."
Donna Ignazia, a mixture of voluptuousness and piety, like most Spanish women, danced the fandango with so much fire that no words could have expressed so well the Joys that were in store for me. What a dance it is! Her bosom was heaving and her blood all aflame, and yet I was told that for the greater part of the company the dance was wholly innocent, and
