not care for fair girls.

"All the same, I must introduce you to her, for she may be a relation of
yours. Her name is the same; that is her father over there:"

"M. Casanova," said she, speaking to a gentleman, "I beg to introduce to
you M. Casanova, a friend of my father's."

"Really? The same name; I wish, sir, you were my friend, as we are,
perhaps, related. I belong to the Naples branch."

"Then we are related, though distantly, as my father came from Parma.
Have you your pedigree?"

"I ought to have such a thing, but to tell you the truth, I don't think
much of such matters. Besants d'or and such heraldic moneys are not
currency in a mercantile republic."

"Pedigree-hunting is certainly a somewhat foolish pursuit; but it may
nevertheless afford us a few minutes' amusement without our making any
parade of our ancestry."

"With all my heart."

"I shall have the honour of calling on you to-morrow, and I will bring my
family-tree with me. Will you be vexed if you find the root of your
family also?"

"Not at all; I shall be delighted. I will call on you myself to-morrow.
May I ask if you are a business man?"

"No, I am a financial agent in the employ of the French ministry. I am
staying with M. Pels."

M. Casanova made a sign to his daughter and introduced me to her. She was
Esther's dearest friend, and I sat down between them, and the concert
began.

After a fine symphony, a concerto for the violin, another for the
hautbois, the Italian singer whose repute was so great and who was styled
Madame Trend made her appearance. What was my surprise when I recognized
in her Therese Imer, wife of the dancer Pompeati, whose name the reader
may remember. I had made her acquaintance eighteen years ago, when the
old senator Malipiero had struck me because we were playing together. I
had seen her again at Venice in 1753, and then our pastime had been of a
more serious nature. She had gone to Bayreuth, where she had been the
margrave's mistress. I had promised to go and see her, but C---- C---- and
my fair nun M---- M---- had left me neither the time nor the wish to do so.
Soon after I was put under the Leads, and then I had other things to
think about. I was sufficiently self-controlled not to shew my
astonishment, and listened to an aria which she was singing, with her
exquisite voice, beginning "Eccoti giunta al fin, donna infelice," words
which seemed made for the case.

The applause seemed as if it would never