er Don Giacomo Casanova, Veneziano, amico mio'."

She received me kindly and modestly, and stopped listening to the music
to talk to me.

When a woman is pretty, one recognizes her charms instantaneously; if one
has to examine her closely, her beauty is doubtful. Leonilda was
strikingly beautiful. I smiled and looked at the duke, who had told me
that he loved her like a daughter, and that he only kept her for form's
sake. He understood the glance, and said,--

"You may believe me."

"It's credible," I replied.

Leonilda no doubt understood what we meant, and said, with a shy smile,--

"Whatever is possible is credible."

"Quite so," said I, "but one may believe, or not believe, according to
the various degrees of possibility."

"I think it's easier to believe than to disbelieve. You came to Naples
yesterday; that's true and yet incredible."

"Why incredible?"

"Would any man suppose that a stranger would come to Naples at a time
when the inhabitants are wishing themselves away?"

"Indeed, I have felt afraid till this moment, but now I feel quite at my
ease, since, you being here, St. Januarius will surely protect Naples."

"Why?"

"Because I am sure he loves you; but you are laughing at me."

"It is such a funny idea. I am afraid that if I had a lover like St.
Januarius I should not grant him many favours."

"Is he very ugly, then?"

"If his portrait is a good likeness, you can see for yourself by
examining his statue."

Gaiety leads to freedom, and freedom to friendship. Mental graces are
superior to bodily charms.

Leonilda's frankness inspired my confidence, and I led the conversation
to love, on which she talked like a past mistress.

"Love," said she, "unless it leads to the possession of the beloved
object, is a mere torment; if bounds are placed to passion, love must
die."

"You are right; and the enjoyment of a beautiful object is not a true
pleasure unless it be preceded by love."

"No doubt if love precedes it accompanies, but I do not think it
necessarily follows, enjoyment."

"True, it often makes love to cease."

"She is a selfish daughter, then, to kill her father; and if after
enjoyment love still continue in the heart of one, it is worse than
murder, for the party in which love still survives must needs be
wretched."

"You are right; and from your strictly logical arguments I conjecture
that you would have the senses kept in subjection: that is too hard!"

"I would have