The ship's company was drawn up to receive us, but not so much as a
priming was burnt, at which I was mortified, on account of Carrio, whom I
perceived to be rather piqued at the neglect. A salute of cannon was
given on board merchant-ships to people of less consequence than we were;
I besides thought I deserved some distinguished mark of respect from the
captain. I could not conceal my thoughts, because this at all times was
impossible to me, and although the dinner was a very good one, and Olivet
did the honors of it perfectly well, I began it in an ill humor, eating
but little, and speaking still less. At the first health, at least, I
expected a volley; nothing. Carrio, who read what passed within, me,
laughed at hearing me grumble like a child. Before dinner was half over
I saw a gondola approach the vessel. "Bless me, sir," said the captain,
"take care of yourself, the enemy approaches." I asked him what he
meant, and he answered jocosely. The gondola made the ship's side, and I
observed a gay young damsel come on board very lightly, and coquettishly
dressed, and who at three steps was in the cabin, seated by my side,
before I had time to perceive a cover was laid for her. She was equally
charming and lively, a brunette, not more than twenty years of age. She
spoke nothing but Italian, and her accent alone was sufficient to turn my
head. As she eat and chattered she cast her eyes upon me; steadfastly
looked at me for a moment, and then exclaimed, "Good Virgin! Ah, my dear
Bremond, what an age it is since I saw thee!" Then she threw herself into
my arms, sealed her lips to mine, and pressed me almost to strangling.
Her large black eyes, like those of the beauties of the East, darted
fiery shafts into my heart, and although the surprise at first stupefied
my senses, voluptuousness made a rapid progress within, and this to such
a degree that the beautiful seducer herself was, notwithstanding the
spectators, obliged to restrain my ardor, for I was intoxicated, or
rather become furious. When she perceived she had made the impression
she desired, she became more moderate in her caresses, but not in her
vivacity, and when she thought proper to explain to us the real or false
cause of all her petulance, she said I resembled M. de Bremond, director
of the customs of Tuscany, to such a degree as to be mistaken for him;
that she had turned this M. de Bremond's head, and would do it again;
that she had quitted him because he was a fool; that she took me in his place;
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THE CONFESSIONS OF