I called on Dupre in the afternoon. I saw the dancers, male and female, the latter accompanied by their mothers, who stood on one side muffled up in thick cloaks. As I passed them under review in my lordly manner, I noticed that one of them still looked fresh and pretty, which augured well for her daughter, though the fruit does not always correspond to the tree.
Dupre introduced me to his wife, who was young and pretty, but who had been obliged to leave the theatre owing to the weakness of her chest. She told me that if the Corticelli would work hard her husband would make a great dancer of her, as her figure was eminently suited for dancing. While I was talking with Madame Dupre, the Corticelli, late Lascaris, came running up to me with the air of a favourite, and told me she wanted some ribbons and laces to make a bonnet. The others girls began to whisper to each other, and guessing what they must be saying I turned to Dupre without taking any notice of Madame Madcap, and gave him twelve pistoles, saying that I would pay for the lessons three months in advance, and that I hoped he would bring his new pupil on well.
Such a heavy payment in advance caused general surprise, which I
enjoyed, though pretending not to be aware of it. Now I know that I acted foolishly, but I have promised to speak the truth in these Memoirs, which will not see the light till all light has left my eyes, and I will keep my promise.
I have always been greedy of distinction; I have always loved to draw the eyes of men towards men, but I must also add that if I
have humiliated anyone it has always been a proud man or a fool, for it has been my rule to please everyone if I can.
I sat on one side, the better to observe the swarm of girls, and I
soon fixed my eyes on one whose appearance struck me. She had a fine figure, delicate features, a noble air, and a patient look which interested me in the highest degree. She was dancing with a man who did not scruple to abuse her in the coarsest manner when she made any mistakes, but she bore it without replying, though an expression of contempt mingled with the sweetness of her face.
Instinct drew me to the mother I have remarked on, and I asked her to whom the dancer that interested me belonged.
"I am her mother," she replied.
"You, madam! I should not have thought it possible."
"I was very young when she was born."
"I should think so. Where do you come from?"
"I am from Lucca, and what is more-a poor widow."
"How can you be poor, when you are still young and handsome, and have an angel for a daughter?"
She replied only by an expressive glance. I understood her reserve, and I stayed by her without speaking. Soon after, Agatha, as her daughter was named, came up to her to ask for a handkerchief to wipe her face.
"Allow me to offer you mine," said I. It was a white handkerchief, and scented with attar of roses; this latter circumstance gave her an excuse for accepting it, but after smelling it she wanted to return it to me.
"You have not used it," said I!; "do so."
She obeyed, and then returned it to me with a bow by way of thanks.
"You must not give it me back, fair Agatha, till you have had it washed."
She smiled, and gave it to her mother, glancing at me in a grateful manner, which I considered of good omen.
"May I have the pleasure of calling on you?" said I. "I cannot receive you, sir, except in the presence of my landlady."
"This cursed restriction is general in Turin, then?"
"Yes, the superintendent uses everybody in the same way."
"Then I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again here?"
In the evening I had one of the best suppers I ever had in my life, if I except those I enjoyed during my stay at Turin. My cook was worthy of a place in the kitchen of Lucullus; but without detracting from his skill I must do justice to the products of the country. Everything is delicious; game, fish, birds, meat, vegetables, fruit, milk, and truffles--all are worthy of the table of the greatest gourmets, and the wines of the country yield to none. What a pity that strangers do not enjoy liberty at Turin!
It is true that better society, and more politeness, such as are found in several French and Italian towns, are to be wished for.
The beauty of the women of Turin is no doubt due to the excellence of the air and diet.
I had not much trouble in extracting a promise from Madame Mazzoli and the two counts to sup with me every night, but the Chevalier de Raiberti would only promise to come whenever he could.
At the Carignan Theatre, where opera-bouffe was being played, I
saw Redegonde, with whom I had failed at Florence. She saw me in the pit and gave me a smile, so I wrote to her, offering my services if the mother had changed her way of thinking. She answered that her mother was always the same, but that if I would ask the Corticelli she could come and sup with me, though the mother would doubtless have to be of the party. I gave her no answer, as the terms she named were by no means to my taste.
I had a letter from Madame du Rumain, enclosing one from M. de Choiseul to M. de Chauvelin, the French ambassador at Turin. It will be remembered that I had known this worthy nobleman at Soleure, and had been treated with great politeness by him, but I
wished to have a more perfect title to his acquaintance; hence I
asked Madame du Rumain to give me a letter.
M. de Chauvelin received me with the greatest cordiality; and reproaching me for having thought a letter of introduction necessary, introduced me to his charming wife, who was no less kind than her husband. Three or four days later he asked me to dine with him, and I met at his table M. Imberti, the Venetian ambassador, who said he was very sorry not to be able to present me at Court. On hearing the reason M. de Chauvelin offered to present me himself, but I thought it best to decline with thanks.
No doubt it would have been a great honour, but the result would be that I should be more spied on than even in this town of spies, where the most indifferent actions do not pass unnoticed. My pleasures would have been interfered with.
