to Parma, although I must
beg of you not to see me in that city.' Confess that you cannot, in all
fairness, give me such an answer; am I not right?"

"Certainly, if you truly love me."

"Good God! if I love you? Oh, yes! believe me, my love is immense,
sincere! Now, decide my fate."

"What! always the same song?"

"Yes."

"But are you aware that you look very angry?"

"No, for it is not so. I am only in a state of uncontrollable excitement,
in one of the decisive hours of my life, a prey to the most fearful
anxiety. I ought to curse my whimsical destiny and the 'sbirri' of Cesena
(may God curse them, too!), for, without them, I should never have known
you."

"Are you, then, so very sorry to have made my acquaintance?"

"Have I not some reason to be so?"

"No, for I have not given you my decision yet."

"Now I breathe more freely, for I am sure you will tell me to accompany
you to Parma."

"Yes, come to Parma."

MEMOIRS OF JACQUES CASANOVA de SEINGALT 1725-1798

[Illustration: Cover2]

[Illustration: Title2]

TO PARIS AND PRISON

EPISODE 6 -- PARIS

CHAPTER I

Leave Bologna a Happy Man--The Captain Parts from Us in
Reggio, where I Spend a Delightful Night with Henriette--Our
Arrival in Parma--Henriette Resumes the Costume of a Woman;
Our Mutual Felicity--I Meet Some Relatives of Mine, but Do
not Discover Myself

The reader can easily guess that there was a change as sudden as a
transformation in a pantomime, and that the short but magic sentence,
"Come to Parma," proved a very fortunate catastrophe, thanks to which I
rapidly changed, passing from the tragic to the gentle mood, from the
serious to the tender tone. Sooth to say, I fell at her feet, and
lovingly pressing her knees I kissed them repeatedly with raptures of
gratitude. No more 'furore', no more bitter words; they do not suit the
sweetest of all human feelings! Loving, docile, grateful, I swear never
to beg for any favour, not even to kiss her hand, until I have shewn
myself worthy of her precious love! The heavenly creature, delighted to
see me pass so rapidly from despair to the most lively tenderness, tells
me, with a voice the tone of which breathes of love, to get up from my
knees.

"I am sure that you love me," says she, "and be quite certain that I
shall leave nothing undone to secure the constancy of your feelings."
Even if she had said that she loved me as much as I ad