I bethought myself that the importance of my new calling required a better and more showy lodging than the one I had secured on my arrival, and I moved to the best inn.  I like even now to recollect the pleasing impression I felt when I was able to admire myself full length in a large mirror.  I was highly pleased with my own person!  I thought myself made by nature to wear and to honour the military costume, which I had adopted through the most fortunate impulse.  Certain that nobody knew me, I enjoyed by anticipation all the conjectures which people would indulge in respecting me, when I made my first appearance in the most fashionable cafe of the town.

My uniform was white, the vest blue, a gold and silver shoulder-knot, and a sword-knot of the same material.  Very well pleased with my grand appearance, I went to the coffee-room, and, taking some chocolate, began to read the newspapers, quite at my ease, and delighted to see that everybody was puzzled.  A bold individual, in the hope of getting me into conversation, came to me and addressed me; I answered him with a monosyllable, and I observed that everyone was at a loss what to make of me.  When I had sufficiently enjoyed public admiration in the coffee-room, I promenaded in the busiest thoroughfares of the city, and returned to the inn, where I had dinner by myself.

I had just concluded my repast when my landlord presented himself with the travellers’ book, in which he wanted to register my name.

“Casanova.”

“Your profession, if you please, sir?”

“Officer.”

“In which service?”

“None.”

“Your native place?”

“Venice.”

“Where do you come from?”

“That is no business of yours.”

This answer, which I thought was in keeping with my external appearance, had the desired effect:  the landlord bowed himself out, and I felt highly pleased with myself, for I knew that I should enjoy perfect freedom in Bologna, and I was certain that mine host had visited me at the instance of some curious person eager to know who I was.

The next day I called on M. Orsi, the banker, to cash my bill of exchange, and took another for six hundred sequins on Venice, and one hundred sequins in gold after which I again exhibited myself in the public places.  Two days afterwards, whilst I was taking my coffee after dinner, the banker Orsi was announced.  I desired him to be shewn in, and he made his appearance accompanied my Monsignor Cornaro, whom I feigned not to know.  M. Orsi remarked that he had called to offer me his services for my letters of exchange, and introduced the prelate.  I rose and expressed my gratification at making his acquaintance.  “But we have met before,” he replied, “at Venice and Rome.”  Assuming an air of blank surprise, I told him he must certainly be mistaken.  The prelate, thinking he could guess the reason of my reserve, did not insist, and apologized.  I offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted, and, on leaving me, he begged the honour of my company to breakfast the next day.