ke indeed. All will go
off well; but I hope you will be merry, for sadness I abhor."

We were still at table when I heard the voice of M. Memmo in the
ante-chamber; he was a young man, intelligent and good-natured. I warned
Marcoline not to say a word about our private affairs, but to display a
moderate gaiety. The servant announced the young nobleman, and we rose to
welcome him; but he made us sit down again, and sat beside us, and drank
a glass of wine with the utmost cordiality. He told me how he had been
supping with the old devotee Querini, who had had his hand kissed by a
young and fair Venetian. The ambassadors were much amused at the
circumstance, and Querini himself, in spite of his scrupulous conscience,
was greatly flattered.

"May I ask you, mademoiselle," he added, "how you came to know M.
Querini?"

"It's a mystery, sir."

"A mystery, is it? What fun we shall have tomorrow! I have come," he
said, addressing himself to me, "to ask you to dine with us to-morrow,
and you must bring your charming niece."

"Would you like to go, Marcoline?"

"'Con grandissimo piacere'! We shall speak Venetian, shall we not?"

"Certainly."

"'E viva'! I cannot learn French."

"M. Querini is in the same position," said M. Memmo.

After half an hour's agreeable conversation he left us, and Marcoline
embraced me with delight at having made such a good impression on these
gentlemen.

"Put on your best dress to-morrow," said I, "and do not forget your
jewels. Be agreeable to everybody, but pretend not to see your Uncle
Mattio, who will be sure to wait at table."

"You may be sure I shall follow your advice to the letter."

"And I mean to make the recognition a scene worthy of the drama. I intend
that you shall be taken back to Venice by M. Querini himself, while your
uncle will take care of you by his special orders."

"I shall be delighted with this arrangement, provided it succeeds."

"You may trust to me for that."

At nine o'clock the next day I called on Morosini concerning the
commissions he had for me. He gave me a little box and a letter for Lady
Harrington, and another letter with the words,--

"The Procurator Morosini is very sorry not to have been able to take a
last leave of Mdlle. Charpillon."

"Where shall I find her?"

"I really don't know. If you find her, give her the letter; if not, it
doesn't matter. That's a dazzling beauty you have with you, Casanova."

"Well, she has dazzled me."

"Bu