We began to talk about Desarmoises, and she said that it was well enough for me to associate with him, but I should not countenance his styling himself marquis.

“But,” said I, “he is the son of the Marquis Desarmoises, of Nancy.”

“No, he isn’t; he is only a retired messenger, with a small pension from the department of foreign affairs.  I know the Marquis Desarmoises; he lives at Nancy, and is not so old as our friend.”

“Then one can’t see how he can be Desarmoises’s father.”

“The landlord of the inn at Strasburg knew him when he was a messenger.”

“How did you make his acquaintance?”

“We met at the table d’hote.  After dinner he came up to my room, and told me he was waiting for a gentleman who was going to Augsburg, and that we might make the journey together.  He told me the name, and after questioning him I concluded that the gentleman was yourself, so here we are, and I am very glad of it.  But listen to me; I advise you to drop all false styles and titles.  Why do you call yourself Seingalt?”

“Because it’s my name, but that doesn’t prevent my old friends calling me Casanova, for I am both.  You understand?”

“Oh, yes!  I understand.  Your mother is at Prague, and as she doesn’t get her pension on account of the war, I am afraid she must be rather in difficulties.”

“I know it, but I do not forget my filial duties.  I have sent her some money.”

“That’s right.  Where are you going to stay at Augsburg?”

“I shall take a house, and if you like you shall be the mistress and do the honours.”

“That would be delightful!  We will give little suppers, and play cards all night.”

“Your programme is an excellent one.”

“I will see that you get a good cook; all the Bavarian cooks are good.  We shall cut a fine figure, and people will say we love each other madly.”

“You must know, dearest, that I do not understand jokes at the expense of fidelity.”

“You may trust me for that.  You know how I lived at Dresden.”

“I will trust you, but not blindly, I promise you.  And now let us address each other in the same way; you must call me tu.  You must remember we are lovers.”

“Kiss me!”

The fair Renaud did not like traveling by night; she preferred to eat a good supper, to drink heavily, and to go to bed just as her head began to whirl.  The heat of the wine made her into a Bacchante, hard to appease; but when I could do no more I told her to leave me alone, and she had to obey.

When we reached Augsburg we alighted at the “Three Moors,” but the landlord told us that though he could give us a good dinner he could not put us up, as the whole of the hotel had been engaged by the French ambassador.  I called on M. Corti, the banker to whom I was accredited, and he soon got me a furnished house with a garden, which I took for six months.  The Renaud liked it immensely.