answered him with a
monosyllable, and I observed that everyone was at a loss what to make of
me. When I had sufficiently enjoyed public admiration in the coffee-room,
I promenaded in the busiest thoroughfares of the city, and returned to
the inn, where I had dinner by myself.

I had just concluded my repast when my landlord presented himself with
the travellers' book, in which he wanted to register my name.

"Casanova."

"Your profession, if you please, sir?"

"Officer."

"In which service?"

"None."

"Your native place?"

"Venice."

"Where do you come from?"

"That is no business of yours."

This answer, which I thought was in keeping with my external appearance,
had the desired effect: the landlord bowed himself out, and I felt highly
pleased with myself, for I knew that I should enjoy perfect freedom in
Bologna, and I was certain that mine host had visited me at the instance
of some curious person eager to know who I was.

The next day I called on M. Orsi, the banker, to cash my bill of
exchange, and took another for six hundred sequins on Venice, and one
hundred sequins in gold after which I again exhibited myself in the
public places. Two days afterwards, whilst I was taking my coffee after
dinner, the banker Orsi was announced. I desired him to be shewn in, and
he made his appearance accompanied my Monsignor Cornaro, whom I feigned
not to know. M. Orsi remarked that he had called to offer me his services
for my letters of exchange, and introduced the prelate. I rose and
expressed my gratification at making his acquaintance. "But we have met
before," he replied, "at Venice and Rome." Assuming an air of blank
surprise, I told him he must certainly be mistaken. The prelate, thinking
he could guess the reason of my reserve, did not insist, and apologized.
I offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted, and, on leaving me, he
begged the honour of my company to breakfast the next day.

I made up my mind to persist in my denials, and called upon the prelate,
who gave me a polite welcome. He was then apostolic prothonotary in
Bologna. Breakfast was served, and as we were sipping our chocolate, he
told me that I had most likely some good reasons to warrant my reserve,
but that I was wrong not to trust him, the more so that the affair in
question did me great honour. "I do not know," said I, "what affair you
are alluding to." He then handed me a newspaper, telling me to read a
paragraph which he pointed