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Updated: May 26, 2025
I am so glad to see you again! You will tell my father and mother about me? You see I am happy. Where were you yesterday?" "Here." "And you didn't see me?" "Yes; but your uncle there . . ." "Well," said I, laughing, "let us know each other, cousin, and be good friends. Marcoline, I congratulate you on having such an honest man for an uncle."
"When I gave her the first of my kisses she returned it in the Florentine manner, and our tongues met. After supper, I confess, I was the first to begin the suggestive caresses, but she met me half-way. I could only make her happy by spending the night with her. Look, this will shew you how pleased she was." With these words Marcoline drew a superb ring, set with brilliants, from her finger.
"Fifteen years afterwards, I saw her again and she was a widow, happy enough, apparently, and enjoying a great reputation on account of her rank, wit and social qualities, but our connection was never renewed." Callimena, who was kind to him "for love's sake alone" at Sorrento in 1770. Marcoline, the girl he took away from his younger brother, the Abby Casanova, at Geneva in 1763.
Feigning to be enthusiastic, Marcoline took his hand and kissed it, while he in his vain exaltation drew her towards him and kissed her on the brow, saying, "Poveretta, you are an angel!" At this incident, in which there was more love of our neighbour than love of God, we all bit our lips to prevent ourselves bursting out laughing, and the sly little puss pretended to be extremely moved.
As Madame Audibert did not take me aside I stifled my curiosity and went with Marcoline to the theatre, without knowing what had passed. On the way Marcoline sang the praises of Madame Audibert, but did not say a word of the proposal she must have made to her.
I had ordered a saddle horse to be ready for me in the morning. We took a hasty cup of coffee and bade each other mutual farewells. I placed Marcoline in the carriage, gave her a last embrace, and waited for the crack of the postillion's whip to gallop back to Lyons. I tore along like a madman, for I felt as if I should like to send the horse to the ground and kill myself.
"You proud fool! Marcoline rightly called you a whiner. Who is your God? How do you serve Him? You are either a hypocrite or an idiot. Do you think that you, a priest, serve God by decoying an innocent girl away from her home? Do you serve Him by profaning the religion you do not even understand?
Remember that Querini and no other must take you back to Venice; he must treat you as if you were his daughter. If he will not consent, you shall not return at all." "Would to God it were so!" Early the next morning I got a note from M. Querini requesting me to call on him, as he wanted to speak to me on a matter of importance. "We are getting on," said Marcoline.
In the morning we rode on again, being certain of finding you here." Marcoline told the abbe in a cold voice to take care not to tell anyone else that she was his cuisine, or his cousin, or else it would go ill with him, as she did not wish to be thought either the one or the other.
"Do not let us say anything more about it, fair Marcoline, but let us go to bed, for you have never inspired me with so much ardour as now." "But you must be tired." "Yes, but not exhaustion, for I was only able to perform the distillation once." "I thought you sacrificed twice on that old altar.
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