“He left my godson to talk it over with me, and he informed me that he knew your mistress before you did at Marseilles, that he had promised to marry her next spring, that he had seen her in my company, and that having followed us he found out that she lived with you.  He was told that she was your wife, but not believing it, wrote her a letter saying that he was ready to marry her; but this letter fell into your hands, and he has had no reply to it.

“He could not make up his mind to lose a hope which made his happiness, so he resolved to ascertain, through my good offices, whether Rosalie would accept his proposition.  He flatters himself that on his informing me of his prosperous condition, I can tell you that he is a likely man to make his wife happy.  I told him that I knew you, and would speak to you on the matter, and afterwards inform him of the result of our interview.

“I have made enquires into his condition, and find that he has already amassed a considerable sum of money.  His credit, morals, and reputation, are all excellent; besides, he is his uncle’s sole heir, and the uncle passes for a man very comfortably off.  And now, my dear M. Casanova, tell me what answer I am to make.”

“Tell him that Rosalie is much obliged to him, and begs him to forget her.  We are going away in three or four days.  Rosalie loves me, and I her, and I am ready to marry her whenever she likes.”

“That’s plain speaking; but I should have thought a man like you would prefer freedom to a woman, however beautiful, to whom you would be bound by indissoluble ties.  Will you allow me to speak to Rosalie myself about it?”

“You need not ask, my leave; speak to her, but in your own person and not as representing my opinions.  I adore her, and would not have her think that I could cherish the thought of separating from her.”

“If you don’t want me to meddle in the matter, tell me so frankly.”

“On the contrary, I wish you to see for yourself that I am not the tyrant of the woman I adore.”

“I will talk to her to-night.”

I did not come home till supper-time, that the marquis might say what he had to say in perfect freedom.  The noble Genoese supped with us, and the conversation turned on indifferent subjects.  After he had gone, my sweetheart told me what had passed between them.  He had spoken to her in almost the same words that he had addressed to me, and our replies were nearly identical, though she had requested the marquis to say no more about his godson, to which request he had assented.

We thought the matter settled, and busied ourselves with preparations for our departure; but three or four days after, the marquis (who we imagined had forgotten all about his godson) came and asked us to dine with him at St. Pierre d’Arena, where Rosalie had never been.

“I want you to see my beautiful garden before you go,” said M. Grimaldi to her; “it will be one more pleasant recollection of your stay for me.”