though I had not the honour of knowing him. I called at his house, and a
man I met told me to stay in the ante-chamber, as the prince would pass
through to go to dinner.

It was five o'clock. The prince appeared, followed by his guests, amongst
whom was M. Polo Renieri, the Venetian ambassador. The prince asked me
what he could do for me, and I told my story in a loud voice before them
all.

"I have received my order to go, but I shall not obey. I implore your
highness to give me your protection, and to help me to bring my plea to
the foot of the throne."

"Write out your petition," he replied, "and I will see that the empress
gets it. But I advise you to ask her majesty for a respite, for if you
say that you won't obey, she will be predisposed against you."

"But if the royal grace does not place me in security, I shall be driven
away by violence."

"Then take refuge with the ambassador of your native country."

"Alas, my lord, my country has forsaken me. An act of legal though
unconstitutional violence has deprived me of my rights as a citizen. My
name is Casanova, and my country is Venice."

The prince looked astonished and turned to the Venetian ambassador, who
smiled, and whispered to him for ten minutes.

"It's a pity," said the prince, kindly, "that you cannot claim the