Seafarers often witness mysterious forces of nature, and what they see in the ocean with their own eyes, science is often powerless to explain. What they see on the verge of mysticism has always made them superstitious, and even today, when ships are loaded with electronics, they still believe in omens.
One day something incredible happened to Alex. He was visited by an strange alien, who materialized into a living being. Any other person would be scared to death, but Alex has seen a lot in his sea adventures. All night he spent in conversations with the mysterious guest, they drank wine and the alien told him the secrets of the art of conquering women’s hearts, taught him the magic of influence and gave advice on how to succeed in society, using people’s vices and weaknesses. After that night Alex gained the ability to read the thoughts of his interlocutors. Some people were scared off by this and even those who had known him for years began to shun Alex.
And even I, who had seen a lot of things in my life, found my mate’s story strange, to put it mildly. We had only a drink of rum that night, so I had no reason to suspect Alex of having alcoholic fantasies. I asked him for permission to publish the story, but Alex refused at first. Later he agreed, adding that he was doing so in the hope that the advices of his overnight guest would help good people stay away from those who try to take advantage of their trust.
***
Alex was a vicious romantic by nature. On shore he chased skirts, drank in dubious company, and spent his nights in what moralists call a debauched atmosphere. Alex himself considered his lifestyle normal, saying that saints exist only in heaven or on icons, and on earth all people are sinners. He was as gullible with women and drinking buddies as he was with himself. As a result, he was often the victim of his kindness.
But at sea, Alex remained a disciplined and responsible pedant. Not every navigator possesses such qualities, so any captain could sleep well when Alex was on watch on the bridge. His colleagues respected him for that, Alex rose to senior officer, but his vices were spoiling his career. He considered changing himself. But is there a vaccine for sin? Unless you lock yourself up in a monastery. The devil whispered to him that the only way to be cured of the torment of temptation is to give in to it. In the end Alex gave in and accepted his fate as it came to him. He was tempted enough to realize that the moralists who ruined his career were no better than him. They are as vici as he was, but they are hypocrites, able to hide their vices. In the end he decided to flee to another country.
Life in a new place taught him the same lessons, Alex became convinced that in the world of people he can not run away from them or hide from temptation. You can try to fence yourself off from everyone, if you have money to pay for your freedom. But if you don’t have money, you have to compromise with yourself and adjust your life habits.
Alex scraped by on occasional earnings, denied himself everything he was used to, limited his needs. The night moths in his bedroom appeared very rarely, all of them were beggars of dubious quality.
Luck smiled unexpectedly. In a harbor tavern he met a friend with whom he had once been on long voyages. Friend gave him the coordinates of the recruitment center. So Alex got into a shipping company, whose fleet was engaged in transportation of small cargoes in the Mediterranean Sea and the Adriatic.
His ship was loading oranges in Tripoli in preparation for Venice. Alex had taken a train from Hamburg across Europe to get there. Puffing on a cigarette at the open window of the carriage, he smiled at the vicissitudes of fate. Only yesterday depression had ravaged his brain, but today the world was playing with rainbow colors again. Life is beautiful, even when your glass is half empty! Alex threw the cigarette butt out of the window, and it sparkled in the darkness.
***
He had been in Venice before. And now he was wandering the familiar narrow streets and bridges under which gondolas of noisy tourists passed, breathing in the smells and listening to the singing Italian chatter. In an antique shop, his attention was drawn to a flat disc that looked like a saucer. Ancient opaque glass, heavier than metal.
“Probably a ritual piece,” the shopkeeper noted his interest, “There was a strange old man who lived in the attic of this building, he died recently. Thieves took all his things, and I got the remains they left. If you like it, you can have it for a dollar, none of my guests were interested in it,” he smiled. Alex handed him three dollars, and the owner escorted his guest to the exit.
In the evening, lying on the sofa in his hotel room, he was fiddling with his disk. Suddenly the lights went out. Without electricity, we are helpless creatures. A servant brought a candelabrum and apologized for the inconvenience. And suddenly in the light of the candle Alex saw the transparency of the disk! In this transparency, chaotically scattered letters were visible. They moved very slowly and finally formed the word ACCAREZZAMI. Alex searched through his pocket dictionary and found a rough translation, something like “pet me”.
That cheered him up: “You’re not a mamzelle to be caressed, and I’m not a Casanova either,” Alex smiled still stroking the disk. He was in a playful mood after his visit to the Doge’s Palace, where memoirs of gigolo were displayed among unique items.
Suddenly the room became so quiet that it rang in his ears. The disk began to vibrate, the table shook, the dishes in the cupboard rattled, and Alex thought it was an earthquake. And then something happened. A fog crept into the room through the night window and the next second a ghost appeared in it. Alex was overcome by what he saw and slid under the table.
The ghost came to life, he was wearing an embroidered camisole and a wig with long curls falling over his shoulders. He lowered himself into a chair and put his foot behind his leg, the buckles of his clogs glittering defiantly with rubies:
“Mon ami, you called my name, that’s why I’m here. Come out, why are you hiding under the table like the cat that stole the fish?”, the ghost smiled wryly.
‘You are in my city and you are in no danger,’ continued the strange guest, ’I will help you find a cozy restaurant with fine food and heady wine, a gambling table with rich simpletons and a beautiful fairy to spend the night with. My Venice, the city of luxury and debauchery, has it all. So get out and spoil your guest with wine, and I will entertain you with stories to brighten our leisure…‘
‘I have a couple of bo-bottles of Parma mu-muscato,’ Alex stammered under the table.
‘That’s something,’ laughed the stranger. Rubbing his hands, he went to the sideboard and returned with two glasses.
‘And who-who are you?,‘ Alex came cautiously out from under the table.
‘Monsieur, you are trembling like a maiden at confession,‘ the guest looked at Alex kindly, ‘I suspect you have been married more than once, so please do not play innocent. Before you is Giacomo Casanova, Chevalier de Sengalt, a man who was loved by women and accepted by all the monarchs and cardinals of Europe. Voltaire, Mozart and Goethe were my drinking companions!’
Leaning back in his chair and admiring his nails, the ghost was clearly calm and enjoying the moment. He continued:
‘Life is full of wonderful mysteries and discoveries, it beckons like the pages of an unread book, doesn’t it? And we are only children in this life…‘
The ghost clapped his hands and gestured to the glasses, inviting Alex to fill them with wine. The sound of the wine gurgling in the glass gave him eloquence:
‘And like all children, we love to turn the pages of that tantalizing book. Yes, life is beautiful, but while we are children, we like only the pictures in the book, we haven’t learnt to read yet…‘
He raised his glass to his eyes, admiring the play of the candle flame in the wine, and smiled at his thoughts. The next moment his gaze became thoughtful:
‘Looking at pictures, we don’t even realize what is hidden in the pages of this great book called Life. After many years, after making many mistakes, we finally begin to read it. And after reading what we have been putting off, we suddenly realize that our whole life has been written on those pages. And if we had been inquisitive and learnt to read earlier, we would surely have avoided many dramas and tragedies. But time has passed, and the mistakes we have made can no longer be corrected. And it remains only to trust in the mercy of the Almighty, hoping that He will forgive us our sins…‘
The ghost laughed, but the next instant his face turned into a grim mask:
‘God is not a babysitter! He may forgive the righteous, but will leave the sinners to the Devil!‘
At that moment it seemed to Alex that a yellow fire flashed in his guest’s eyes. It made him uncomfortable.
‘I’ve never been a righteous man in my life,’ ghost continued, ‘but God has saved me for some reason, probably to show others by my example that it is not right to live like this!‘
His thin lips curved into a sarcastic grin:
‘Patrons have always saved me, but once I repented,’ the ghost bowed his head and folded his palms like a repentant sinner, ‘I wrote a book, a confession. In it I left for posterity hundreds of amusing stories from my life, which I jokingly called ‘chevaliers’. Today, in gratitude for your warm welcome, I will share with you some of them...’
CHEVALIER 1. YOUTHFUL PLEASURES.
The night stranger tasted the wine, wetting his lips with it:
‘Yes, Parma wines are good,‘ he nodded approvingly and took a sip, ‘A story happened to me once in Parma. I was born on Easter of 1725, so the angels have always protected me and, as you see, still do…‘
At these words, he turned his head toward the night window as if he wanted to make sure that his guardians were present behind him.
‘In Parma I had an affair with a French woman, Henrietta,’ he continued:
‘She was beautiful and educated. And she was so clever that I took much more pleasure in talking to her during the day than at night when she was in my arms…‘
Smiling at his memories, Casanova shook his glass slightly, and the wine in it sparkled with purple highlights, like rubies in the buckles of his shoes.
‘Henrietta was incredibly perceptive,’ he continued, ‘sometimes I even thought she was a witch. She read my mind, saw my fickle nature, and guessed at the precariousness of my finances. Perhaps that’s why she refused to continue our affair and soon disappeared.‘
He sighed and brought his palm to his face as if clearing away the cobwebs of sad memories:
‘Venice was the European Mecca of debauchery for aristocrats, its gambling houses and beautiful courtesans made me the most famous of all,’
The ghost playfully lifted his chin. But the next moment his face turned sad:
‘My parents died and I was sent to a boarding house where it was very dreary, and one day I thought I was going to die. I asked to be put in the care of Abbot Gozzi, my first teacher, who taught me the sciences and the violin.‘
‘When I was nine years old, I went to live with the priest and his family. My first experience with a girl, the abbot’s younger sister, was when I was eleven, and I was forever grateful to Bettina for her lessons,’ he smiled at his memories’:
‘Later, I played similar games with my sisters Nanette and Maria, fourteen and sixteen years old, after which I realized that this art of seduction is the vocation of my life..’
Casanova snapped his fingers and coquettishly played with a curl of his wig:
‘I also realized early how important it is to have a good patron, and soon found him. The Venetian senator Alviso Malipiero taught me the rules of social behavior. But when I became clever enough to seduce his girlfriend, the senator threw me out. I then tonsured myself as a monk and became a canon lawyer, but remained a socialite dandy, always meticulously groomed…’.
‘And why don’t you tell us a little about yourself? The guest blew an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his camisole and nodded encouragingly at Alex.
The wine and his interlocutor’s confidences were disposing and Alex accepted the offer:
‘Monsieur, I learned my first lesson from a girl who soon became my wife,‘ he began, ‘She assured me that I was her first. I remained a fool for a long time. Until one day I asked myself why my young wife was skilled in lovemaking and how she had such experience. After all, I didn’t know a fraction of what she was making in bed. At one of the intimate parties, my wife’s maiden told me that my wife was having fun in other people’s beds while I was at sea. That was the first lesson I learned: being a sailor and having a family are incompatible. Later I received many confirmations of this by having fun with women whose husbands were as naïve fools as I was…’.
Casanova listened without interrupting. He smiled after Alex had fallen silent:
‘You were a naive child and probably still are to some extent. By travelling at sea you gave your wife complete freedom and financial security. But the Devil has lived in every woman since Eve, we know that from the holy books. The Devil is a tempter, he never stops trying to lead a woman into sin. That’s why in ancient times when a knight went on a campaign, he would put a fidelity belt on his wife with a lock that closed the entrance to her intime place. But the Devil is cunning, and his most successful trick has been to convince people that he does not exist.. ‘
At these words, the ghost chuckled sinisterly and stared at Alex with its yellow eyes. This stare made Alex uncomfortable and a shiver ran through his body, making him almost paralysed.
Satisfied with the effect produced, the night guest continued:
‘The devil is resourceful. Tired of a man’s naive attempts to keep his wife from temptation, he offered her another way to taste the forbidden fruit. And she loved it!
And the maiden who gave away your wife’s sins was most likely an accomplice in her adventures. And she betrayed her friend to win you. Every woman dreams of such a fool, forgive me, but it is the truth of life!‘
The ghost looked at Alex with feigned sympathy.
‘Yes, you are right sir, she made such a suggestion,‘ Alex was nervous on the couch.
‘There, now you are convinced of my shrewdness,‘ Casanova smiled, there can be no friendship between women, only jealousy and rivalry…‘ he grinned, played with a curl of his wig and showed on his empty glass with his finger.
There was a pause, the night guest savouring the wine. He leaned back in his chair, resting his leg on the armrest. The rubies in the buckle of his shoe glittered with dazzling insolence…
***
CHEVALIER 2. MOSCOW PRANKS.
Seeing that his visit was still keeping Alex in suspense, Casanova decided to entertain him with a savoury story:
‘As a young man I entered the University of Padua and graduated with a law degree, to which I immediately felt disgusted. I studied chemistry, mathematics and medicine. In the latter, I saw quackery, even more than in law practice. I liked to fool people by prescribing bogus drugs. Ah, I wanted to be a lady’s doctor all my life. And sometimes I succeeded!’
He took a sip from his glass and squeezed his eyes shut, clearly enjoying the flavor of the wine and continued:.
‘I was more calculative in my thirty-three years than when I was younger. My weapons were determination and chutzpah. I lived in Paris, where, in order to succeed, you must use all your gifts, physical and spiritual, to make acquaintances with people worthy and influential, always own yourself, and exalt the opinion of those who need to be liked. My first task was to find a new patron, and I found him in the person of my old friend de Berny, who by that time had become Minister of Foreign Affairs of France.
Following his advice to find a way of making money for the state, I devised a lottery and became one of its directors. This enterprise immediately brought me a considerable profit. With this money I entered high society, where I made meaningful connections. With the help of the occult, I fullished many aristocrats, especially the Marquise Jeanne d’Urfe, to whom I introduced myself as an expert in numerology. I once stole her diamonds. I always thought that fooling a fool was worthy of a clever man!’
Casanova raised a finger admonishingly and sighed feignedly:
‘That’s probably why I became a gambler. My beloved grandmother severely reprimanded me for this addiction, but I could not change…’
He flirtatiously played with a curl of his wig:
‘The lottery brought me a lot of money in France and Holland, and then I decided to try it in Russia. But nothing came of it; the Empress Catherine flatly refused the enterprise. Russia is in a long hibernation; it takes a long time for Russians to appreciate and copy something from Europe. Three hundred years have passed since the “financial pyramids” became popular in Russia, those fraudulent amusements in which the principle of my lottery is embedded…’.
‘Once I came to Russia,’ continued the guest, ‘one of the Empress’s ladies, having heard that I was a well-known healer in Europe, approached me with a delicate request. The girl suffered from migraine headaches, which worsened during her menstrual cycle. My knowledge of medicine and sexual experience with women made me confident that marriage and regular exercise in bed would cure the girl’s problem. As a temporary but effective measure, I offered to massage her with a special ointment I had prepared from a mixture of chamomile, mint and menthol. This ointment is very popular in Europe; it is rubbed on the temples and back of the head and is an excellent remedy for headaches. And I thought it would be a good remedy here.
I gently explained that the only effective way to cure the disease was to rub the ointment on the spot where it had settled. Confused at first, the girl agreed and we had several sessions during which I treated her in various poses. I must say that this method was the most pleasant of my practice…’
He licked his lips carnivorously:
‘A few days later the girl brought her friend who also wanted to try my method of medicine. I don’t know how many more patients I would have had, but a message arrived from De Bernie urging me to return to Paris. I left by night stagecoach, sending a huge bouquet of roses, a jar of ointment and French cosmetics to the lovely ladies. I took the memory of Russia with me. It is a country of naïve simpletons, I never felt the desire to visit those places again, – laughed Casanova.
***
CHEVALIER 3. NEW ADVENTURES.
The night guest had found a long-awaited listener in Alex, and the silence to which he had been condemned during his wanderings in the other world was now transformed into eloquence. Relishing to the opportunity and enjoying the sound of his own voice, he said:
‘But I have bored you with intimate stories, monsieur, let us change the subject and have some fun! I will tell you how, as a young man, I was a soldier, a gambler, a musician, a doctor, imprisoned and, after my escape, continued my adventures in Paris! ‘
He laughed with his head thrown back, obviously laughing at his fate. And Alex was intoxicated by this laughter, the wine buzzing in his head and he felt that he was already in love with his nocturnal guest…
‘ In 1744, I was nineteen years old,’ Casanova began his new story, ‘ I was fed up with the Church and I bought a… an officer’s patent! Yes, an officer’s patent of the Republic of Venice, that was something! An officer had to look proper and a good tailor made me a white uniform with a blue front, gold buttons, silver and gold epaulettes, a hat with a black cockade and a fluffy tail, a long sabre…
I liked to make an impression, all the beauties of the city were at my feet. But when, after six months, I became bored with the duties of the service, I interrupted my military career and returned home. The ladies of Venice were overjoyed. No, the army is not for me! ‘
He laughed, playing with a lock of his wig and continued:
‘I spent my time in debauchery, fighting and duelling. And I became a gambler, for the kind of life I led required a lot of money. But I was unlucky, I even sold my officer’s patent. When the last of my money was gone, I turned to my old benefactor, Alviso Grimani, for help. He got me a job as a musician at the local opera house, where I played the violin and quickly acquired all the habits of my lecherous colleagues. We spent our nights drinking in various parts of the city and amusing ourselves with scandalous pranks. We untied gondolas tied to private houses, which were then swept away by the current, and sent out false calls for midwives and doctors. I soon got bored of that too, but then luck struck.
The Venetian senator Giovanni Di Matteo Bragadin was returning from a wedding ball when he had a stroke. I was in the same gondola with him. At the senator’s palace, the doctor gave him a bloodletting and put mercury ointment on his chest. This caused a high fever and Di Matteo began to suffocate because of a swollen windpipe. A priest had already been called as death seemed inevitable. But I took the initiative, changed the treatment and, against the protests of the doctor present, ordered the mercury ointment to be removed and the senator’s chest to be washed with cold water.
Senator Di Matteo soon recovered from his illness, thanks to my advice, rest and healthy food. He decided that a young man as wise beyond his years as I was should acquire occult knowledge. The Senator adopted me and became my patron for life. Once again I was making my destiny! Having gained access to all the benefits of society, I was now determined to put myself in a position where I would not have to deprive myself of the necessities of life. And what my necessities were, no one could judge better than me…
No one in Venice could understand how there could be a close connection between me and respectable people: they, so exalted, and I, so corrupt. They, were so strict in their manners, and I, their pampered, dissolute life. The secret of my popularity was simple: as they flaunted their righteousness, so my lasciviousness was ostentatious. I knew their secret. At night, when all the townspeople were asleep, my patrons were even bigger sinners than I was. We would spend the nights together in orgies, I would bring them beautiful whores, and in the morning they would pay me gratefully and go out into the world wearing the masks of the righteous. I was free of these bonds, I didn’t have to pretend. I was sure that the patrons would cover my antics, for the next night they would need me again.
I spent the next three years as the senator’s official secretary. I lived a life of idleness, splendid and debauchery. I spent most of my time gambling. My patron was patient but warned me that I would eventually pay the price for my promiscuity. I only joked about his dire predictions.
However, I had to leave Venice when I decided to take revenge on one wicked man by playing a trick on him. I dug up a recently buried corpse and brought it to my enemy’s house. The victim of my prank was paralysed for life, and then a girl accused me of rape and went to the authorities expecting to get some money from me. I was later acquitted for lack of evidence, but by then I had been charged with theft, blasphemy and witchcraft. It smelled like a bonfire to my mortal body. And I fled Venice!’
Casanova paused for a moment, then returned to the past:
‘I lived in Paris for two years, learnt French and made the acquaintance of the aristocracy. In Lyon, I became a member of the Masonic order, which fascinated me with its secret rituals. Thanks to the power of this society, I gained valuable contacts and access to hidden knowledge. I spent a few years travelling around Europe and then returned to my native Venice, where scandalous romances with ladies of high society immediately made many new enemies and attracted the attention of the Inquisition.
My police record became a growing list of blasphemies, seductions, fights and quarrels in public places. The Inquisition accused me of Cabbalism, magic, involvement in Freemasonry and of having forbidden books in my library. My patron, a former inquisitor himself, urged me to leave immediately to avoid serious consequences. But I was too confident and ambitious to heed his warnings. In the end I was arrested and thrown into prison…’
***
CHEVALIER 4. SWEET, SWEET FREEDOM.
‘Sentenced to five years‘ imprisonment within walls from which it was impossible to escape, I nevertheless thought of escape,’ continued Casanova;
‘In prison I suffered terribly from the darkness, the summer heat, and millions of fleas. One day, walking in the prison yard, I found a piece of black marble and an iron bar to take with me to my cell. I sharpened the rod on the stone and turned it into a spade, which I used to chisel the wooden floor under my bed. But the guards must have been disturbed by the noise I was making, and I was transferred to another cell. All my labours were in vain! In despair, I devised a new plan of escape. I secretly contacted the prisoner in the next cell, Father Balbi, an apostate priest, and made a deal with him. I managed to hand him the spade by hiding it in my Bible. Father Balbi made a hole in the ceiling of his cell, got out and made a hole in the ceiling of my cell.
We made our way to the roof of the Doge’s Palace, and the thick fog was our ally. On the roof we found a long ladder and with the help of a rope I had made from a bed sheet, we descended to a room where we found the clothes of the labourers and changed into them. Then with a spade we picked the lock on the exit door, walked through the gallery and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs we met a guard, but we persuaded him that we had been locked up in the palace by mistake at the end of the working day, and went outside. It was early morning when we stole a gondola and sailed to the mainland. I arrived in Paris on 5 January 1757. Of my escape I wrote in my diary:
“…I confess that I am proud of having escaped; but my pride does not come from the fact that I succeeded, but from the fact that I thought it possible and dared to carry out my plan…’.
The guest’s words stirred Alex’ soul. He too had once escaped from life that had become a prison for him. The escape and the feeling of freedom had been the most powerful emotional shock he had ever experienced, and they were the same feelings that Casanova was now sharing with him.
And Casanova continued:
‘In Paris, I again surprised high society, declaring myself as alchemist, and this made me famous among the prominent figures of the time, including the Marquise de Pompadour, the Count de Saint-Germain, Dalambert and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Alchemy and the search for the Philosopher’s Stone were so popular with the foolish aristocracy of the time that there was a great demand for my knowledge and I made a good living from it…’.
Admiring the rings on his fingers, Casanova smiled:
‘But I was hindered by a rival in the person of the Count de Saint-Germain, a born swindler, who claimed without shame that he was three hundred years old, that he had a panacea for all diseases, that nature had no secrets from him, and that he knew how to melt diamonds and how to make one large diamond out of ten small ones, the purest water. What an impertinent man, he has decided to outdo me! ‘
Casanova slapped the arm of the chair with his palm:
‘In August 1757, my patron, Minister De Berny, sent me to Dunkirk on a spy mission for which I was well paid. Because of my success in the state lottery, the French government even promised me a title and a pension if I would take French citizenship and work for the Ministry of Finance. But I turned down this flattering offer because it would have interfered with my passion for travel…’.
They clinked their glasses. Both adventurers they could not imagine a life without adventure.
‘I was profligate, got into debt, and went to prison, but thanks to the intercession of the Marquise d’Urfe I was released after four days,’ continued the guest;
’That’s how important patrons are in our lives! Then my luck changed, and I found myself in the black again… But let’s switch roles and listen to your story while it’s still night outside…‘
Alex nodded in agreement:
‘You were fortunate to live in the land of opportunity,’ he began his story,
‘For in addition to having access to money, you have learnt valuable life lessons from your patrons and enjoyed the objects of your lust!’ . Unlike your wealthy Venice, in the country where I grew up, many things were out of reach, Alex sighed:
‘Fools, crooks and thieves are in power there. They promote their own kind, destroying the able and intelligent for fear of appearing foolish. Having seized power by force, they proclaimed the lower classes as the hegemon, and the lifestyle of these primitive beings became the norm for the entire population. Those who resisted had the sad fate of being killed or sent to hard labour. Generations changed, new fools and thieves come to power in this land, all the vices of their fathers and grandfathers live in them..’
‘But that’s not what you want me to tell you, is it? ‘ Alex smiled sadly,
‘So let me share the drama of my life with the woman, my passion, who ruined my career and almost killed me. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I trust you…’
Casanova was intrigued.
‘She was endowed with beauty, the terrible weapon of a wicked woman, her slender legs, exciting hips, lush hair, big sensual mouth and wide open green eyes drove men mad, Alex continued:
‘She knew the value of her charms and tormented me with jealousy. We spent evenings in restaurants and I often fought with those who tried to invade my property. She enjoyed watching men fight like animals for the right to possess her. At such moments she would revel in the smell of blood, her cheeks turned flush, her eyes would glow emerald green and her breathing would quicken. This was how she was in bed, losing herself in the pleasure of orgasm. After a fight, she’d lick the victim’s blood from my face and drag me to the nearest dark place where she’d rape me. She was a skilled actress who would swear her love and give herself passionately to me at night. And during the day she would run off to her friends to spend time with other men...
…In the end, my suffering ended in paralysis, my left arm ceased to obey. I spent several months in a special clinic, a psychiatric hospital. The atmosphere there was so oppressive that one day I decided to die and started hiding pills to take a lethal dose. The head doctor of the clinic turned out to be a clever psychologist; he learnt about my intentions. He took me to a cell with raving lunatics and warned me that if I did not stop my hysterics, I would be transferred to them.
He explained to me the physiology of women’s depravity and managed to pull me out of my depression. I gradually pulled myself together and soon left the clinic with my saviour’s advice to redirect my nervous system to something important and distracting. This was a session at university where I focused on my studies, and within a few months my arm was back to normal…
I ran away from my tormentor, but the trauma left an open wound in my heart. I was with other women after her, but never again did I feel the thrill of love, the familiar pinch of sweet pain. I realized I couldn’t live with a woman who bore children and spent her time in the kitchen. I love bitches, only with such a woman can I feel gallant knight and rapist in one person. And I am willing to put up with her whims.
When I fell into the net of her beauty, I did all sorts of stupid things, fought and led a wild life. All this became known to my superiors and my career as an officer ended.
I fled my country to escape my mad love and wandered all over Europe, from the cold northern seas to the warm Adriatic. Inexplicable fear drove me on, and one day I found myself in America, at the end of the world. There, on the other side of the ocean, I finally calmed down. Years later, I returned to Europe. But never again would I dare to visit the places where my heart burned…’
During this confession, Casanova watched Alex secretly, and when he stopped talking, overwhelmed with emotions from memories, the mysterious stranger waited for a pause, so that Alex came to his senses, regained his composure.
After that, Casanova asked him to listen:
‘The Devil surrounds himself with beautiful women. They are his concubines, his property. Among his women, the Devil is a moderately cynical, calm being. He graciously allows his slave girls to have fun with men. But he becomes aggressive, conniving and vengeful when his property is taken from him.
By choosing the Devil’s slave, you anger him, and he used his cunning to deal with the stubborn in his favourite way – by making you kill yourself. Many poets and writers, artists, musicians and other sensitive people have never overcome this pernicious passion. Their souls are frozen in the darkness of the underworld, and the devil triumphs over his spoils.
However, you have escaped such an end, and I must say that you are incredibly lucky!’
At these moments, Alex thought he saw again the yellow fire in the eyes of his interlocutor.
Casanova continued:
‘The devil did not succeed, and he decided to kill you in another way. He trampled on your life and made you flee from your passion to the ends of the earth. He burned your heart and scorched your soul so that you could never love again. Only when he was satisfied that the impertinent one was no longer dangerous and no longer trespassing on his property, did he leave you alone.
Perhaps you have a guardian angel who guides you in moments of danger and protects you from trouble. Women’s games have made you a hater, but don’t be too quick to judge, or you will become cynical, lose the art of seduction, and women will be wary of you,’ he grinned. How can you protect yourself from heartbreak? I would advise you to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman, but not to fall in love with her, not to tease the devil…’
***
CHEVALIER 5. CONFESSION.
‘There are no perfect women,’ Casanova clicked his fingernail on the empty bottle.
‘To avoid falling under the spell of love, find a flaw in your woman and always remember it. Follow the Devil’s example and surround yourself with several women. Of course, this pleasure requires money, but find a mistress who has a rich old husband. He will be the one to pay for your restaurants. And don’t forget to make her jealous of you with other ladies so that you become desirable to her and she will be busy thinking of ways to eliminate her rivals. Be your hunter in this game and don’t let your heart become the prey. Use a woman’s weapon against herself.
Change the object of your desire more often, it is the elixir of our youth. Do not bind yourself by the bonds of marriage, because in such a situation, a man is taught to be submissive, he becomes obedient, and by the age of forty he has a potbelly, face disfigured by wrinkles and bags under the eyes. Marriage and family life is a trap for gifted individuals, and many who have fallen into it have lost the ability to create...
‘For me, love and intimacy were often a game, unencumbered by the misery of youthful romanticism,’ he continued, ‘Flirtations, love affairs, fleeting liaisons are common to men of the noble class, and they marry for profit rather than love.
The indulgence of all that pleases the senses has always been the chief business of my life; I have never found a more important occupation. Feeling that I was born to play the game of love, I have always loved women and done everything I could to be loved by them.
The ideal liaison for me involved not only intimacy but also intrigue and a gallant parting. I would find an attractive woman suffering from a rude or jealous lover, put her out of her misery and she would show me her gratitude. We would have a torrid affair, and when I began to feel a cooling of the passion or boredom, I would confess my failure, set her up with a rich man and leave the scene.
A woman is a little monkey, she loves everything that shines. My secret of success with a woman was nothing more esoteric than to offer her what she liked – a dazzling gift of a large sum of money instead of a lifetime of maintenance...
There is no honest woman with a pure heart whom a man could not win by taking advantage of her gratitude. Alcohol and violence are not the means of the seducer. On the contrary, attentiveness, small courtesies and favours should be used to soften a woman’s heart.
But a man who speaks of his love in words is a fool! He may frighten the woman and make her think of the practical side of the affair. With words of love he acknowledges her power over him. Feelings should be implied, not pompously declared.
Mutual consent is important, but I have avoided easy wins or overly complicated situations. Before leading a woman into the bedroom, I tried to be the perfect companion for her – witty, reliable, kind…. I did not behave like a predator, it was never my policy to attack the unsophisticated or those whose prejudices were likely to prove an obstacle. Most of the women I conquered let themselves be conquered. They were either in a precarious position or emotionally vulnerable.
I appreciated the woman’s intelligence! After all, a beautiful but stupid woman leaves her lover disappointed after he has enjoyed her physically. But my attitude to educated women was typical of my time: for a woman, learning is inappropriate, it compromises her basic qualities… no scientific discovery has been made by a woman, no symphony written by a woman. For the former requires strength and logic of thought, the latter is born in the fantasies of the mind. Woman, alas, lacks this; she is too practical, too preoccupied with the destiny that nature has given her. But in simple reasoning, in the subtlety of feeling and the expression of emotion, we must give her credit…
I was a victim of the excitement of playing cards, of winning and losing large sums of money. I was taught wise maxims by professionals, not knowing that gambling destroys those who play it. Admittedly, I could not always refuse to cheat, and sometimes I even teamed up with card cheats to make money. I was calm and smiling when I lost and not greedy when I won. Sometimes, however, I would cheat strangely, and then my behaviour would become angry, even to the point of challenging me to a duel. I lacked the stamina to become a professional gambler...
I lacked the wisdom to stop in time when the odds were against me, and sometimes I could not control my emotions when I won. I tried to teach myself to use the game calculatingly to get money quickly – I needed it for flirting, for socializing. But when I played as a gallant cavalier or presented myself as a generous aristocrat in high society, I played with manic passion, forgetting my lessons, especially when I was in the euphoria of a new love adventure. I liked to spend money on women, and my heart bled when that money wasn’t won at cards.
And here I am before you: lawyer and clergyman, soldier and violinist, swindler and procurer, gourmet and businessman, diplomat and spy, politician and doctor, mathematician, philosopher and Kabbalist, playwright and writer. And, of course, a lover of the ladies dearest to my heart. My creative legacy includes more than twenty works, including plays, essays and a memoir of three and a half thousand pages of revelations! My memoirs are a bible for the seducer, read them and your soul will be comforted, healed from the pain of betrayal.
Christians read the Bible, where it says, “Thou shalt not kill”. And they kill. Muslims read the Koran. And they kill. Jews read the Torah and the Talmud. And they kill with redoubled zeal.
Those who read my memoirs love the others. And the more they read, the more frequent and varied their desire to love becomes. I would advise people who dream of their children’s souls being filled with love and not hate to choose the right reading for them…
Here the night guest glanced at the windows, where the stars were already fading:
‘ I am very grateful, dear friend, for your pleasant time with me. I wish you happy days in my beautiful Venice,’ he laughed.
Hypnotized by this nocturnal adventure, Alex reached out to shake his guest’s hand, but his palm met emptiness… The next moment the table shook, the room swayed and he lost his sense of reality.
© Copyright: Walter Maria №215092201766
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