"Such my lord, is the gold mine for your mint of Mitau, by which, with
the assistance of a manager and four men, you can assure yourself a
revenue of a thousand ducats a week, and double, and quadruple that sum,
if your highness chooses to increase the men and the furnaces. I ask your
highness to make me your manager. But remember it must be a State secret,
so burn this letter, and if your highness would give me any reward in
advance, I only ask you to give me your affection and esteem. I shall be
happy if I have reason to believe that my master will also be my friend.
My life, which this letter places in your power, is ever at your service,
and I know not what I shall do if I ever have cause to repent having
disclosed my secret. I have the honour to be, etc."

In whatever language this letter may have been translated, if its sense
run not as above, it is not my letter, and I am ready to give the lie to
all the Mirabeaus in the world. I have been called an exile, but
wrongfully, for a man who has to leave a country by virtue of a 'lettre
de cachet' is no exile. He is forced to obey a despotic monarch who looks
upon his kingdom as his house, and turns out of doors anyone who meets
with his displeasure.

As soon as my purse swelled to a respectable size, I left Augsburg, The
date of my departure was June 14th, 1767. I was at Ulm when a courier of
the Duke of Wurtemburg's passed through the town with the news that his
highness would arrive from Venice in the course of five or six days. This
courier had a letter for me. It had been entrusted to him by Prince
Charles of Courland, who had told the courier that he would find me at
the "Hotel du Raisin," in Augsburg. As it happened, I had left the day
before, but knowing the way by which I had gone he caught me up at Ulm.
He gave me the letter and asked me if I were the same Casanova who had
been placed under arrest and had escaped, on account of some gambling