On the 13th November, Casanova left Paris in company with his brother, Francesco, whose wife did not accompany him.  “His new wife drove him away from Paris.”

“Now [1797 or 1798] I feel that I have seen Paris and France for the last time.  That popular effervescence [the French Revolution] has disgusted me and I am too old to hope to see the end of it.”

III

Vienna

On the 29th November, Casanova wrote from Frankfort that a drunken postilion had upset him and in the fall he had dislocated his left shoulder, but that a good bone-setter had restored it to place.  On the 1st December he wrote that he was healed, having taken medicine and having been blooded.  He promised to send Francesca eight sequins to pay her rent.  He reached Vienna about the 7th of December and on the 15th sent Francesco a bill of exchange for eight sequins and two lires.

On the last day of 1783, Francesca wrote to him at Vienna: 

“I see by your good letter that you will go to Dresden and then to Berlin and that you will return to Vienna the 10th January . . . .  I am astonished, my dear friend, at the great journeys you make in this cold weather, but, still, you are a great man, big-hearted, full of spirit and courage; you travel in this terrible cold as though it were nothing . . . . "

On the 9th January, Casanova wrote from Dessau to his brother Giovanni, proposing to make peace with him, but without results.  On the 27th, he was at Prague.  By the 16th February, he was again in Vienna, after a trip lasting sixty-two days.  His health was perfect, and he had gained flesh due, as he wrote Francesca, to his contented mind which was no longer tormented.

In February, he entered the service of M. Foscarini, Venetian Ambassador, “to write dispatches.”

On the 10th March, Francesca wrote: 

“Dearest of Friends, I reply at once to your good letter of the 28th February which I received Sunday . . . .  I thank you for your kindness which makes you say that you love me and that when you have money you will send me some . . . but that at the moment you are dry as a salamander.  I do not know what sort of animal that is.  But as for me I am certainly dry of money and I am consumed with the hope of having some . . . .  I see that you were amused at the Carnival and that you were four times at the masked ball, where there were two hundred women, and that you danced minuets and quadrilles to the great astonishment of the ambassador Foscarini who told everyone that you were sixty years old, although in reality you have not yet reached your sixtieth year.  You might well laugh at that and say that he must be blind to have such an idea.

“I see that you assisted, with your brother, at a grand dinner at the Ambassador’s . . . .