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At last Jarbe found a purchaser for fifty guineas, and I heard afterwards that Lord Grosvenor had bought it to please the Charpillon, with whom he occasionally diverted himself. Thus my relations with that girl came to an end. I have seen her since with the greatest indifference, and without any renewal of the old pain. One day, as I was going into St.
A little before midnight a servant came out with a lamp, I suppose to look for something that had fallen out of the window. I approached noiselessly, stepped in and opened the parlour-door, which was close to the street, and saw . . . the Charpillon and the barber stretched on the sofa and doing the beast with two backs, as Shakespeare calls it.
"I hope so. Good night." I left that infernal abode, and went home to bed. The End of the Story Stranger Than the Beginning At eight o'clock the next morning Jarbe told me that the Charpillon wanted to see me, and that she had sent away her chairmen. "Tell her that I can't see her." But I had hardly spoken when she came in, and Jarbe went out.
She went upstairs, I following on tiptoe, and pushed me into a room, and shut the door upon me. The Charpillon was in a huge bath, with her head towards the door, and the infernal coquette, pretending to think it was her aunt, did not move, and said, "Give me the towels, aunt."
There were, among the papers at Dux, two letters from Marianne Charpillon, and a manuscript outlining the story of Casanova's relations with her and her family, as detailed in the Memoirs: With the story in mind, the letters from this girl, "the mistress, now of one, now of another," are of interest: "I know not, Monsieur, whether you forgot the engagement Saturday last; as for me, I remember that you consented to give us the pleasure of having you at dinner to-day, Monday, the 12th of the month.
I read it and re-read it with as much surprise as pleasure, and he then proceeded with his story. "When the ambassador had gone, the Charpillon, finding herself at liberty once more, had Lord Baltimore, Lord Grosvenor, and M. de Saa, the Portuguese ambassador, in turn, but no titular lover.
I spent an hour with a girl named Kennedy, a fair Irishwoman, who could speak a sort of French, and behaved most extravagantly under the influence of champagne; but the image of the Charpillon was still before me, though I knew it not, and I could not enjoy anything. I went home feeling sad and ill pleased with myself.
He had said we would make a pleasant day of it together, and when he saw that my table was laid for four he asked who the other guests were to be. He was extremely surprised when he heard that they were the Charpillon and her aunt, and that the girl had invited herself when she heard he was to dine with me. "I once took a violent fancy for the little hussy," said he.
I told her that it might be arranged, but that I should prefer to settle with her mother, and that she would see me at their house the following day, and this seemed to surprise her. It is possible that the Charpillon would have granted me any favour on that day, and then there would have been no question of deception or resistance for the future. Why did I not press her?
As I could not eat I drank a good deal, and not being able to sleep I spent the night in striding up and down my room like a man beside himself. On the third day, having heard nothing positive about the Charpillon, I went out at seven o'clock in the morning to call on her.
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