At one o’clock an individual came up to me and bade me follow him.  He took me to a small room, where I saw my carbine and pistols.  In front of me was the Alcalde Messa, seated at a table covered with documents, and a policeman stood on each side of him.  The alcalde told me to sit down, and to answer truly such questions as might be put to me, warning me that my replies would be taken down.

“I do not understand Spanish well, and I shall only give written answers to any questions that may be asked of me, in Italian, French, or Latin.”

This reply, which I uttered in a firm and determined voice, seemed to astonish him.  He spoke to me for an hour, and I understood him very well, but he only got one reply: 

“I don’t understand what you say.  Get a judge who understands one of the languages I have named, and I will write down my answers.”

The alcalde was enraged, but I did not let his ill-humour or his threats disturb me.

Finally he gave me a pen, and told me to write my name, profession, and business in Spain in Italian.  I could not refuse him this pleasure, so I wrote as follows: 

“My name is Jacques Casanova; I am a subject of the Republic of Venice, by profession a man of letters, and in rank a Knight of the Golden Spur.  I have sufficient means, and I travel for my pleasure.  I am known to the Venetian ambassador, the Count of Aranda, the Prince de la Catolica, the Marquis of Moras, and the Duke of Lossada.  I have offended in no manner against the laws of his Catholic majesty, but in spite of my innocence I have been cast into a den of thieves and assassins by magistrates who deserve a ten times greater punishment.  Since I have not infringed the laws, his Catholic majesty must know that he has only one right over me, and that is to order me to leave his realms, which order I am ready to obey.  My arms, which I see before me, have travelled with me for the last eleven years; I carry them to defend myself against highwaymen.  They were seen when my effects were examined at the Gate of Alcala, and were not confiscated; which makes it plain that they have served merely as a pretext for the infamous treatment to which I have been subjected.”

After I had written out this document I gave it to the alcalde, who called for an interpreter.  When he had had it read to him he rose angrily and said to me,—­

“Valga me Dios!  You shall suffer for your insolence.”

With this threat he went away, ordering that I should be taken back to prison.

At eight o’clock Manucci called and told me that the Count of Aranda had been making enquiries about me of the Venetian ambassador, who had spoken very highly in my favour, and expressed his regret that he could not take my part officially on account of my being in disgrace with the State Inquisitors.

“He has certainly been shamefully used,” said the count, “but an intelligent man should not lose his head.  I should have known nothing about it, but for a furious letter he has written me; and Don Emmanuel de Roda and the Duke of Lossada have received epistles in the same style.  Casanova is in the right, but that is not the way to address people.”