“With all my heart.”

“I shall have the honour of calling on you to-morrow, and I will bring my family-tree with me.  Will you be vexed if you find the root of your family also?”

“Not at all; I shall be delighted.  I will call on you myself to-morrow.  May I ask if you are a business man?”

“No, I am a financial agent in the employ of the French ministry.  I am staying with M. Pels.”

M. Casanova made a sign to his daughter and introduced me to her.  She was Esther’s dearest friend, and I sat down between them, and the concert began.

After a fine symphony, a concerto for the violin, another for the hautbois, the Italian singer whose repute was so great and who was styled Madame Trend made her appearance.  What was my surprise when I recognized in her Therese Imer, wife of the dancer Pompeati, whose name the reader may remember.  I had made her acquaintance eighteen years ago, when the old senator Malipiero had struck me because we were playing together.  I had seen her again at Venice in 1753, and then our pastime had been of a more serious nature.  She had gone to Bayreuth, where she had been the margrave’s mistress.  I had promised to go and see her, but C——­ C——­ and my fair nun M——­ M——­ had left me neither the time nor the wish to do so.  Soon after I was put under the Leads, and then I had other things to think about.  I was sufficiently self-controlled not to shew my astonishment, and listened to an aria which she was singing, with her exquisite voice, beginning “Eccoti giunta al fin, donna infelice,” words which seemed made for the case.

The applause seemed as if it would never come to an end.  Esther told me that it was not known who she was, but that she was said to be a woman with a history, and to be very badly off.  “She goes from one town to another, singing at all the public concerts, and all she receives is what those present choose to give her on a plate which she takes round.”

“Does she find that pay?”

“I should suspect not, as everyone has paid already at coming in.  She cannot get more than thirty or forty florins.  The day after to-morrow she will go to the Hague, then to Rotterdam, then back here again.  She had been performing for six months, and she is always well received.”

“Has she a lover?”

“She is said to have lovers in every town, but instead of enriching her they make her poorer.  She always wears black, not only because she is a widow, but also on account of a great grief she is reported to have gone through.  She will soon be coming round.”  I took out my purse; and counted out twelve ducats, which I wrapped in paper; my heart beating all the while in a ridiculous manner, for I had really nothing to be excited about.