oman
came out and asked me if I were M. Casanova. I told her that I was,
whereupon she said that the lady had informed her I was not coming till
eight.

"She said seven."

"Well, well, it's of no consequence. Kindly walk in here. I will go and
awake her."

In five minutes, the young husband in his night-cap and dressing-gown
came in, and said that his wife would not be long. Then looking at me
attentively with an astounded stare, he said,

"Are you not the gentleman who asked me my wife's name last night?"

"You are right, I did. I have not seen your wife for many years, but I
thought I recognized her. My good fortune made me enquire of her husband,
and the friendship which formerly attached me to her will henceforth
attach me to you."

As I uttered this pretty compliment Therese, as fair as love, rushed into
the room with open arms. I took her to my bosom in a transport of
delight, and thus we remained for two minutes, two friends, two lovers,
happy to see one another after a long and sad parting. We kissed each
other again and again, and then bidding her husband sit down she drew me
to a couch and gave full course to her tears. I wept too, and my tears
were happy ones. At last we wiped our eyes, and glanced towards the
husband whom we had completely forgotten. He stood in an attitude of
complete astonishment, and we burst out laughing. There was something so
comic in his surprise that it would have taxed all the talents of the
poet and the caricaturist to depict his expression of amazement. Therese,
who knew how to manage him, cried in a pathetic an affectionate voice,--

"My dear Palesi, you see before you my father--nay, more than a father,
for this is my generous friend to whom I owe all. Oh, happy moment for
which my heart has longed for these ten years past."

At the word "father" the unhappy husband fixed his gaze on me, but I
restrained my laughter with considerable difficulty. Although Therese was
young for her age, she was only two years younger than I; but friendship
gives a new meaning to the sweet name of father.

"Yes, sir," said I, "your Therese is my daughter, my sister, my cherished
friend; she is an angel, and this treasure is your wife."

"I did not reply to your last letter," said I, not giving him time to
come to himself.

"I know all," she replied. "You fell in love with a nun. You were
imprisoned under the Leads, and I heard of your almost miraculous flight
at Vienna. I had a false