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when you come back you can tell me the whole story, and I can regulate my conduct accordingly."
I found Querini and Morosini together. They gave me their hands when I came in, and Querini asked me to sit down, saying that there would be nothing in our discussion which M. Morosini might not hear.
"I have a confidence to make to you, M. Casanova," he began; "but first I want you to do me the same favor."
"I can have no secrets from your excellency."
"I am obliged to you, and will try to deserve your good opinion. I beg that you will tell me sincerely whether you know the young person who is with you, for no one believes that she is your niece."
"It is true that she is--not my niece, but not being acquainted with her relations or family I cannot be said to know her in the sense which your excellency gives to the word. Nevertheless, I am proud to confess that I love her with an affection which will not end save with my life."
"I am delighted to hear you say so. How long have you had her?"
"Nearly two months."
"Very good! How did she fall into your hands?"
"That is a point which only concerns her, and you will allow me not to answer that question."
"Good! we will go on. Though you are in love with her, it is very possible that you have never made any enquiries respecting her family."
"She has told me that she has a father and a mother, poor but honest, but I confess I have never been curious enough to enquire her name. I only know her baptismal name, which is possibly not her true one, but it does quite well for me."
"She has given you her true name."
"Your excellency surprises me! You know her, then?"
"Yes; I did not know her yesterday, but I do now. Two months . . . Marcoline . . . yes, it must be she. I am now certain that my man is not mad."
"Your man?"
"Yes, she is his niece. When we were at London he heard that she had left the paternal roof about the middle of Lent. Marcoline's mother, who is his sister, wrote to him. He was afraid to speak to her yesterday, because she looked so grand. He even thought he must be mistaken, and he would have been afraid of offending me by speaking to a grand lady at my table. She must have seen him, too."
"I don't think so, she has said nothing about it to me."
"It is true that he was standing behind her all the time. But let us come to the point. Is Marcoline your wife, or have you any intention of marrying her?"
"I love her as tenderly as any man can love a woman, but I cannot make her a wife; the reasons are known only to herself and me."
"I respect your secret; but tell me if you would object to my begging her to return to Venice with her uncle?"
"I think Marcoline is happy, but if she has succeeded in gaining the favour of your excellency, she is happier still; and I feel sure that if she were to go back to Venice under the exalted patronage of your excellency, she would efface all stains on her reputation. As to permitting her to go, I can put no stumblingblock in the way, for I am not her master. As her lover I would defend her to the last drop of my blood, but if she wants to leave me I can only assent, though with sorrow."
"You speak with much sense, and I hope you will not be displeased at my undertaking this good work. Of course I shall do nothing without your consent."
"I respect the decrees of fate when they are promulgated by such a man as you. If your excellency can induce Marcoline to leave me, I will make no objection; but I warn you that she must be won mildly. She is intelligent, she loves me, and she knows that she is independent; besides she reckons on me, and she has cause to do so. Speak to her to-day by herself; my presence would only be in your way. Wait till dinner is over; the interview might last some time."
"My dear Casanova, you are an honest man. I am delighted to have made your acquaintance."
"You do me too much honour. I may say that Marcoline will hear nothing of all this."
When I got back to the inn, I gave Marcoline an exact account of the whole conversation, warning her that she would be supposed to know nothing about it.
"You must execute a masterly stroke, dearest," said I, "to persuade M. Querini that I did not lie in saying that you had not seen your uncle. As soon