“I request you to return me that document.”

“I will not do so.  Begone!”

This was one of the most terrible moments of my life.  I shudder still when I think of it.  It was only a cowardly love of life that hindered me from running my sword through the body of the Statthalter, who had treated me as if he were a hangman and not a judge.

As I went away I took it into my head to complain to Prince Kaunitz, 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 protection of any ambassador.”

At these words a nobleman of colossal stature stepped forward and said I could claim his protection, as my whole family, myself included, had served the prince his master.  He spoke the truth, for he was the ambassador of Saxony.

“That is Count Vitzthum,” said the prince.  “Write to the empress, and I will forward your petition immediately.  If there is any delay in the answer, go to the count; you will be safe with him, until you like to leave Vienna.”

In the meanwhile the prince ordered writing materials to be brought me, and he and his guests passed into the dining-hall.

I give here a copy of the petition, which I composed in less than ten minutes.  I made a fair copy for the Venetian ambassador to send home to the Senate: 

“Madam,—­I am sure that if, as your royal and imperial highness were walking in your garden, an insect appealed plaintively to you not to crush it, you would turn aside, and so avoid doing the poor creature any hurt.

“I, madam, am an insect, and I beg of you that you will order M. Statthalter Schrotembach to delay crushing me with your majesty’s slipper for a week.  Possibly, after that time has elapsed, your majesty will not only prevent his crushing me, but will deprive him of that slipper, which was only meant to be the terror of rogues, and not of an humble Venetian, who is an honest man, though he escaped from The Leads.