deal of curiosity made me
call on him.

When he saw me he threw his arms about my neck, calling me his preserver.
I was obliged to receive all the compliments which knaves make to honest
men when they hope to take them in. A few moments after, an old woman and
a girl came in, and I was introduced as the Chevalier de Seingalt, of
whom he had spoken so often. The girl, affecting surprise, said she had
known a M. Casanova, who was very like me. I answered that Casanova was
my name as well as Seingalt, but that I had not the happiness of
recollecting her.

"My name was Anspergher when I saw you," she replied, "but now it is
Charpillon; and considering that we only met once, and that I was only
thirteen at the time, I do not wonder at your not recollecting me. I have
been in London with my mother and aunts for the last four years."

"But where had I the pleasure of speaking to you?"

"At Paris."

"In what part of Paris?"

"In the Bazaar. You were with a charming lady, and you gave me these
buckles" (she shewed me them on her shoes), "and you also did me the
honour to kiss me."

I recollected the circumstance, and the reader will remember that I was
with Madame Baret, the fair stocking-seller.

"Now I remember you," said I; "but I do not recognize your aunt."

"This is the sister of the one you saw, but if you will take tea with us
you will see her."

"Where do you live?"

"In Denmark Street, Soho."

CHAPTER XI

The Charpillon--Dreadful Consequences of My Acquaintance With Her

The name Charpillon reminded me that I was the bearer of a letter for
her, and drawing it from my pocket-book I gave it her, saying that the
document ought to cement our acquaintance.

"What!" she exclaimed, "a letter from the dear ambassador Morosini. How
delighted I am to have it! And you have actually been all these months in
London without giving it me?"

"I confess I am to blame, but, as you see, the note has no address on it.
I am grateful for the chance which has enabled me to discharge my
commission to-day."

"Come and dine with us to-morrow."

"I cannot do so, as I am expecting Lord Pembroke to dinner."

"Will you be alone?"

"I expect so."

"I am glad to hear it; you will see my aunt and myself appearing on the
scene."

"Here is my address; and I shall be delighted if you will come and see
me."

She took the address, and I was surprised to see her smile as she read
it.

"Then you are the Italian," she