"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."
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"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 stumbling-block 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 as you see him, you must give a shout of surprise, exclaim, 'My dear uncle!' and rush to his arms. This would be a splendid and dramatic situation, which would do you honour in the eyes of all the company."
"You may be sure that I shall play the part very well, although my heart be sad."
At the time appointed we waited on the ambassadors, and found that all the other guests had assembled. Marcoline, as blithe and smiling as before, first accosted M. Querini, and then did the polite to all the company. A few minutes before dinner Mattio brought in his master's spectacles on a silver tray. Marcoline, who was sitting next to M. Querini, stopped short in something she was saying, and staring at the man, exclaimed in a questioning voice,--
"My uncle?"
"Yes, my dear niece."
Marcoline flung herself into his arms, and there was a moving scene, which excited the admiration of all.
"I knew you had left Venice, dear uncle, but I did not know you were in his excellency's service. I am so glad to see you again! You will tell my father and mother about me? You see I am happy. Where were you yesterday?"
"Here."
"And you didn't see me?"
"Yes; but your uncle there . . ."
"Well," said I, laughing, "let us know each other, cousin, and be good friends. Marcoline, I congratulate you on having such an hon-est man for an uncle."
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"That is really very fine," said M. Querini; and everybody exclaimed, "Very affecting, very affecting indeed!"
The newly-found uncle departed, and we sat down to dinner, but in spirits which differed from those of yesterday. Marcoline bore traces of those mingled emotions of happiness and regret which move loyal hearts when they call to mind ther native land. M. Querini looked at her admiringly, and seemed to have all the confidence of success which a good action gives to the mind. M. Morosini sat a pleased spectator. The others were attentive and curious as to what would come next. They listened to what was said, and hung on Marcoline's lips.
After the first course there was greater unison in the company, and M. Morosini told Marcoline that if she would return to Venice she would be sure of finding a husband worthy of her.
"I must be the judge of that," said she.
"Yes, but it is a good thing to have recourse to the advice of discreet persons who are interested in the happiness of both parties."
"Excuse me, but I do not think so. If I ever marry, my husband will have to please me first."
"Who has taught you this maxim?" said Querini.
"My uncle, Casanova, who has, I verily believe, taught me everything that can be learnt in the two months I have been happy enough to live with him."
"I congratulate the master and the pupil, but you are both too young to have learnt all the range of science. Moral science cannot be learnt in two months."
"What his excellency has just said," said I, turning to Marcoline, "is perfectly correct. In affairs of marriage both parties should rely to a great extent on the advice of friends, for mere marriages of inclination are often unhappy."
"That is a really philosophical remark, my dear Marcoline," said Querini; "but tell me the qualities which in your opinion are desirable in a husband."
"I should be puzzled to name them, but they would all become manifest in the man that pleased me." "And supposing he were a worthless fellow?"
"He would certainly not please me, and that's the reason why I have made up my mind never to marry a man whom I have not studied."
"Supposing you made a mistake?" "Then I would weep in secret." "How if you were poor?"
"She need never fear poverty, my lord," said I. "She has an income of fifty crowns a month for the remainder of her life."
"Oh, that's a different matter. If that is so, sweetheart, you are privileged. You will be able to live at Venice in perfect independence." "I think that to