The last few days were spent partly in sorrow and partly in delight.  We looked at each other without speaking, and spoke without knowing what we said.  We forgot to eat, and went to bed hoping that love and anguish would keep us awake, but our exhausted bodies fell into a heavy sleep, and when we awoke we could only sigh and kiss again.

Pauline allowed me to escort her as far as Calais, and we started on the 10th of August, only stopping at Dover to embark the carriage on the packet, and four hours afterwards we disembarked at Calais, and Pauline, considering her widowhood had begun, begged me to sleep in another room.  She started on the 12th of August, preceded by my poor Clairmont, and resolved only to travel by daytime.

The analogy between my parting with Pauline and my parting with Henriette fifteen years before, was exceedingly striking; the two women were of very similar character, and both were equally beautiful, though their beauty was of a different kind.  Thus I fell as madly in love with the second as with the first, both being equally intelligent.  The fact that one had more talent and less prejudices than the other must have been an effect of their different educations.  Pauline had the fine pride of her nation, her mind was a serious cast, and her religion was more an affair of the heart than the understanding.  She was also a far more ardent mistress than Henriette.  I was successful with both of them because I was rich; if I had been a poor man I should never have known either of them.  I have half forgotten them, as everything is forgotten in time, but when I recall them to my memory I find that Henriette made the profounder impression on me, no doubt because I was twenty-five when I knew her, while I was thirty-seven in London.

The older I get the more I feel the destructive effects of old age; and I regret bitterly that I could not discover the secret of remaining young and happy for ever.  Vain regrets! we must finish as we began, helpless and devoid of sense.

I went back to England the same day, and had a troublesome passage.  Nevertheless, I did not rest at Dover; and as soon as I got to London I shut myself up with a truly English attack of the spleen, while I thought of Pauline and strove to forget her.  Jarbe put me to bed, and in the morning, when he came into my room, he made me shudder with a speech at which I laughed afterwards.

“Sir,” said he, “the old woman wants to know whether she is to put up the notice again.”

“The old hag!  Does she want me to choke her?”

“Good heavens-no, sir!  She is very fond of you, seeing you seemed so sad, she thought . . . .”

“Go and tell her never to think such things again, and as for you . . . .”

“I will do as you wish, sir.”

“Then leave me.”

THE MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA DE SEINGALT

The rare unabridged London edition of 1894 translated by Arthur Machen to
which has been added the chapters discovered by Arthur Symons.