The Devil in Love Read online

  I was making prodigious movements in my bed, which was not new; suddenly the wood shattered, and the three boards which supported my mattress fell noisily to the floor.

  Biondetta rose, ran towards me and enquired in a tone of alarm: “Don Alvaro, what misfortune has befallen you?”

  As I had my eyes upon her, despite my accident, I saw her rise and run towards me; her chemise was that of a page and, as she passed, the moonlight falling upon her thigh seemed to gain in beauty.

  Mightily unconcerned at the poor state of my bed, which meant merely that I would sleep a little less comfortably, I was far more unsettled at finding myself enfolded in Biondetta’s arms.

  “I am not hurt,” I said, “please go away; you are walking on the tiles barefooted, you will catch cold, please go away…”

  “But you are not comfortable.

  “No, and you are the cause; now go away or, since you insist on sleeping in my apartments and near me, I shall order you to go and sleep in the spider’s web at the corner of my room.” She did not wait for me to finish the threat and went to lie down on her rug, sobbing softly.

  The night was drawing to an end and exhaustion, gaining the upper hand, procured me a few moments of repose. I did not awaken again till daybreak. The direction taken by my waking gaze is easily divined. I sought my page.

  He was seated on a little stool, already dressed save for his doublet; he had unloosed his hair, which reached the ground, covering his back and shoulders and indeed his face with flowing natural curls.

  For want of any other means, he was combing his hair with his fingers. Never did ivory comb wander through a denser forest of ash blond hair, whose fineness equalled all its other perfections; a slight movement of mine having announced my awakening, she drew aside the curls which half hid her face. Imagine a spring dawn rising from the mists of the morning, with all its dew, its freshness and its scents.

  “Biondetta,” I told her, “take a comb; there are several in the drawer of that desk.” She obeyed and soon, with the help of a ribbon, her hair was drawn up on her head with as much skill as elegance. She took her doublet, put the finishing touches to her attire and sat down again on her seat with a timid, abashed, apprehensive air which suddenly aroused my keen compassion.

  If, I told myself, I have to witness a thousand such tableaux during the day, each more piquant than the last, I shall certainly not be able to keep my resolve; let us hasten the denouement, if that be possible.

  “Day is come, Biondetta,” I said to her, “appearances have been kept up and you can now leave the room without any danger of ridicule.”

  “By now,” she answered, “I am beyond such fears; but your interest, and mine also, inspires in me a fear more serious by far: it does not allow us to part.”

  “Will you explain yourself?”

  “I am about to do so, Alvaro. Your youth, your temerity blind you to the perils we have woven around us. The moment I saw you beneath the vault, your heroic bearing in the face of the most hideous apparition determined my inclinations. I told myself that if, to attain happiness, I must be united with a mortal, then the time had come, I would take on bodily form. Here was a hero worthy of me. No matter that his despicable rivals might be outraged and no matter that I might find myself exposed to their resentment and vengeance; loved by Alvaro, united with Alvaro, and nature itself will be in our thrall. You knew what was to be.

  Envy, jealousy and spite threaten the cruellest of punishments for beings of my kind, degraded as they are by their choice; and you alone can shield me from them. It is barely daybreak, and already the informers are out to denounce you, as a necromancer, to a certain court. In an hour…”

  “Stop,” I shouted, putting my clenched fists over my eyes, “you are a very mistress of deceit. You speak of love, you present its image, but you poison the very idea; I forbid you to speak of it. Let me calm myself sufficiently, if I can, to become capable of taking a decision.

  If I must fall into the hands of the court, then I shall not waver between you and it; but if you help me out of this predicament, what will I be committing myself to? Will I be able to leave you, should I so desire? I order you to answer me clearly and precisely.”

  “To leave me, Alvaro, requires only an act of will. Indeed, I even regret that submitting to you required coercion. In the course of time, were you to misunderstand my zeal, you would be unwise, ungrateful even.”

  “I know nothing but that I must go. I shall awaken my valet; he must find me money, and then he must go to the post. I shall go to Venice, to Bentinelli, my mother’s banker.”

  “You need money? Fortunately I foresaw the eventuality; I have money to put at your disposal.”

  “Keep it. If you were a woman, I would be committing a base act by accepting it.”

  “What I propose is not a gift, it is a loan. Give me an order on your banker; draw up a list of what you owe here. Leave instructions on your desk for Carlo. Write a letter to your commanding officer claiming that a vital matter obliges you to depart without leave. I shall go the post to get you a carriage and horses; but first, Alvaro, forced as I am to separate from you, I am again plunged into all my earlier fears; repeat after me: Oh Spirit for me linked to a body, and for me alone, I accept your vassalage and grant you my protection.”

  While prescribing this formula, she had thrown herself at my knees, seizing my hand, pressing it and moistening it with tears.

  I was beside myself, not knowing which way to turn; I abandoned my hand, which she kissed, and stammered out the words which seemed so important to her; I had scarcely finished than she got to her feet: “I am yours,” she cried with rapture; “now I can become the happiest of all beings.”

  Instantly she threw a long cloak around herself, pulled a large hat over her eyes, and left my bedchamber.

  As though stupefied, I found a statement of my debts. I appended an order for Carlo to pay; I counted out the necessary money; to my commanding officer, and one of my closest friends, I wrote letters which they must have found extraordinary. Already the carriage and the postillion’s whip were heard at the door.

  Biondetta, still muffled in her cloak, returned and rushed me off. Carlo, awakened by the noise, appeared in his chemise. “Go to my desk,” I told him, “there you will find my orders.” I climbed into the carriage and drove off.

  Biondetta had entered the carriage with me and was seated at the front. Once we were out of town, she took off the all-concealing hat. Her hair was held in a crimson net; only the curly ends were visible, like pearls set in coral. Her face, bare of any other ornament, glowed with its own perfection. One might scarcely conceive how such sweetness, candour and innocence could assort with the the intelligence of her gaze. I caught myself making these observations despite myself; and judging them dangerous for my peace of mind, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

  My attempt was not in vain: sleep stole over me and offered me the most agreeable dreams, those most appropriate to soothing my soul of the frightening and wayward ideas that had been besetting it. Furthermore, my sleep was long and my mother, later, reflecting on my adventures, claimed that such drowsiness had not been natural. At last, when I awoke, I was on the banks of the canal by which one enters Venice.

  It was well on into the night; I felt my sleeve being tugged; it was a porter, who wanted to take my packages. I did not even have a nightcap.

  Biondetta appeared at another door, to tell me that the boat which was to transport me was ready. I got out mechanically, climbed into the felucca and fell once more into my lethargy.

  What can I say? The following morning I found myself lodged on St Mark’s Square, in the finest apartment in the best inn in Venice. I recognized it immediately. Finding linen and a rich robe de chambre next to my bed, I suspected that this could have been a considerate act on the part of the innkeeper at whose establishment I had arrived quite unprovided for.

  I got up and peered around to see whether I was the only living object in the
room; I was seeking Biondetta.

  Ashamed of this first impulse, I gave thanks for my good fortune. So this spirit and I were not joined for ever; I was delivered of it; and after my imprudence, if I were to lose only my position in the guards, I would have to account myself lucky.

  Courage, Alvaro, I went on; there are other courts, other sovereigns than those of Naples; let this be a lesson to you, if you are not incurable; henceforth you will be a better man. If your services are rejected, a tender-hearted mother, the Estremadura and a decent inheritance await you.

  But what does that imp want of you, inseparable from you for twenty-four hours as he has been? He has taken on a most seductive form; he gave you money, and you must repay him.

  Even as I was talking, my creditor appeared; he was bringing me two servants and two gondoliers.

  “You must be looked after until Carlo arrives,” he said. “The people at the inn vouch for the intelligence and loyalty of these people; you see before you the bravest boatmen of the Republic.”

  “I approve your choice, Biondetta,” I told her; “are you lodging here too?”

  “I,” replied the page, eyes lowered, “have taken the room furthest from your own in the same apartment, to cause you as little trouble as possible.”

  This concern for distance between herself and me showed, I felt, consideration and delicacy. I was grateful.

  After all, I told myself, I could never deny her the empty air, should she take it into her head to remain invisible in order to haunt me. As long as I know which room she is in, I shall be able to calculate my distance. Pleased with my reasoning, I lightly gave everything my approval.

  I now purposed to visit my mother’s agent. Biondetta gave her orders for my toilette and, when it was ready, I proceeded about my business.

  The agent received me in a manner that occasioned me some surprise. He was in his bank; he cast me an affectionate look from a distance and came towards me.

  “Don Alvaro,” he said, “I did not know that you were here. Your arrival is most timely, since it prevents me from making a blunder: I was about to send you two letters and some money.”

  “My quarterly allowance?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said “and something else besides. Here are two hundred sequins in addition, which arrived this morning. An old gentleman, to whom I gave a receipt, handed them over to me from dona Mencia. Not having heard from you, she thought you must be ill, and asked a Spaniard of my acquaintance to give them to me to pass on to you.”

  “Did she tell you his name?”

  “It is written on the receipt: don Miguel Pimiento, who says he was a servant in your household. Since I did not know of your arrival here, I did not ask for his address”.

  I took the money and opened the letters; my mother was lamenting her poor health, and did not mention the sequins she had sent me; that made me all the more appreciative of her generosity.

  Seeing my purse so well and opportunely garnished, I went gaily back to the inn; I had difficulty in locating the modest quarters where Biondetta had taken refuge, and which she would enter by a private passage some way from my door. I came upon it by chance, and saw her bending over near a window, absorbed in reassembling and pasting together the parts of a harpsichord.

  “I have money,” I told her, “so here is what you lent me.” She blushed, as she always did before speaking; she looked for my bond, handed it to me, took the sum and contented herself with saying I was too punctilious, and that she would have liked to extend further the pleasure of having obliged me.

  “But I am still in your debt,” I told her, “for it was you who paid for the post-horses”. She had the relevant account on the table; I paid it and was about to leave the room with apparent sang-froid then she asked me for her orders. I had none to give her, and she went calmly back to her task, turning her back on me. I watched her for some time; she seemed deeply engrossed, working with as much skill as rapidity.

  I went back to ponder in my room: “Here,” I told myself, “we have the equivalent of that Calderon who lit Soberano’s pipe, and although the page looks very distinguished, he springs from the same stock. If he does not render himself either demanding or inconvenient, if he makes no claims, why should I not keep him? Furthermore, he assures me that an act of will is all that is needed to send him away. Why wish now what I can wish at any moment of the day?” My reflections were interrupted by the announcement that dinner was served.

  I sat down at table. Biondetta, in full livery, was behind my seat, eager to anticipate my every need. I did not have to turn round to see her: three mirrors arranged throughout the room echoed her every movement. When the dinner was over and the table cleared, she withdrew.

  The innkeeper, whom I had met before, came up into my room. It was carnival time, and thus there was nothing surprising in my arrival. He congratulated me on the addition to my retinue, which implied an improvement in my fortunes, and fell back upon praise of my page, the most handsome, affectionate and gentle young man he had ever seen. He asked me if I was intending to take part in the pleasures of carnival: such indeed was my intention. I selected a disguise and climbed into my gondola.

  I went to the theatre, and the Ridotto, where I gambled, won forty sequins and returned home rather late, having sought frivolity everywhere I imagined I might find it.

  My page, a torch in his hand, welcomed me at the foot of the stairs, handed me over to the attentions of a valet de chambre and retired, after asking me at what time I required his presence in my room. At the usual hour, I answered, without thinking what I was saying and failing to remark that no one was acquainted with my daily habits.

  I awoke late the following morning, and promptly arose. By chance my eye fell upon my mother’s letter lying on the table. “Estimable woman!” I cried out; “What am I doing here? Why do I not take refuge in your wise counsel? I will, I will, it is my only hope!”

  As I was speaking aloud, someone observed that I was awake; someone entered my room, and again I saw the shoal which endangered my reason. He looked serene, modest, submissive and thus to me all the more dangerous. He announced the imminent arrival of a tailor and some cloth; the business expedited, he disappeared with the tailor until luncheon.

  I ate little, and hastened to plunge myself into the whirlwind of the city’s diversions. I sought out masked figures; I listened, I made cool pleasantries, concluded the evening at the opera and then at gaming, hitherto my chief passion. I won more during this second session than during the first.

  Ten days passed in the same mood of heart and mind, and in more or less the same diversions; I met old acquaintances and made new ones. I was introduced to the most distinguished gatherings and admitted to the parties of the nobles in their casinos.

  All would have gone well, had my luck at the gaming tables held, but I lost the 1300 sequins I had amassed in one evening at the Ridotto. Rarely can such misfortune have befallen a player. At three in the morning I retired, penniless, owing one hundred sequins to my acquaintances. My chagrin was written on my features, in my whole comportment. Biondetta seemed visibly affected, but she did not say a word.

  The next day I arose late and stumped up and down my room. Breakfast was served, but I ate nothing. When it was cleared away, Biondetta remained, contrary to her usual practice. She looked at me for a moment and let fall some tears: “You lost money, don Alvaro; perhaps more than you can repay…”

  “And were that to be so, where might I find the remedy?”

  “You have no faith: my services are ever yours, and under the same conditions; but they would not be very far-reaching if they extended merely to making you contract such obligations with me as you would feel obliged to fulfill immediately. Be good enough to allow me to take a seat; emotion prevents my remaining standing; furthermore, I have important things to say to you. Do you want to ruin yourself? Why do you gamble so furiously, since you do not know how to play?”

  “Does anyone know how to play games of chan
ce? Could someone teach me to do better?”

  “Yes; prudence aside, one does learn how to play games of luck, which you improperly call games of chance. There is no chance in this world: everything always has been and always will be a succession of inevitable coincidences which can be understood only through the science of numbers, whose principles are at once so abstract and so deep, that no one can grasp them unless he is guided by a master; but this master must be chosen with skill, and grappled to his pupil. I can communicate this sublime knowledge to you only by an image. The concatenation of numbers creates the rhythm of the universe, rules both what are called fortuitous events and those that are allegedly pre-determined, causing them, through invisible balance-wheels, to occur each in their turn, from all that is truly important in the remote sphere, down to the pitiable little bits of chance which have to-day denuded you of your money.”

  This scientific tirade in a childlike mouth, this somewhat brusque proposal to give me a master, brought about a slight shiver, a little of that cold sweat which had seized me under the vault at Portici. I looked squarely at Biondetta, who lowered her eyes. “I do not want a master,” I told her; “I would be afraid of learning too much; but by all means try to prove to me that a gentleman can use a little superior knowledge at gaming without compromising his character”. She took up the challenge:

  “The bank functions on the basis of an exorbitant profit which is renewed at every deal; if she did not run risks, the Republic would manifestly be stealing from individuals. But the calculations that the players can make are taken into account, and the bank is always the winner, pitted against one shrewd person among 10,000 dupes.”

  Conviction was pushed even further. I was taught one single combination, apparently very simple: I could not guess at its principles, but that evening I experienced its infallibility.

  In a word, by following Biondetta’s instructions I won back all I had lost, made good my gambling debts and, on returning, repaid the money she had lent me to try my luck.