The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 12: Return to ParisCasanova, Giacomo
History
The Memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt, 1725-1798. Volume 12: Return to Paris
Casanova, Giacomo
Casanova, Giacomo, 1725-1798; Europe -- History -- 18th century -- Biography
Boaz paid me my twelve thousand francs in ducats, and I made him my
friend, as he thanked me for receiving the moneys in ducats, and he
doubtless made a profit on the transaction, gold being a commodity in
Holland, and all payments being made in silver or paper money.
At that time gold was at a low rate, and nobody would take ducats.
After having an excellent dinner with the Princesse de Galitzin, I put on
my cloak and went to the cafe. I found there the burgomaster's son, who
was just beginning a game of billiards. He whispered to me that I might
back him with advantage, and thinking he was sure of his stroke I thanked
him and followed his advice. However, after losing three games one after
the other, I took his measure and began to lay against him without his
knowledge. After playing for three hours and losing all the time, he
stopped play and came to condole with me on my heavy loss. It is
impossible to describe his amazed expression when I shewed him a handful
of ducats, and assured him that I had spent a very profitable evening in
laying against him. Everybody in the room began to laugh at him, but he
was the sort of young man who doesn't understand a joke, and he went out
in a rage. Soon after I left the billiard-room myself, and, according to
my promise went to see Therese, as I was leaving for Amsterdam the next
day.
Therese was waiting for her young wine merchant, but on my recounting his
adventures she expected him no longer. I took my little daughter on my
knee and lavished my caresses on her, and so left them, telling them that
we should see each other again in the course of three weeks or a month at
latest.
As I was going home in the moonlight by myself, my sword under my arm, I
was encountered all of a sudden by the poor dupe of a burgomaster's son.
"I want to know," said he, "if your sword has as sharp a point as your
tongue."
I tried to quiet him by speaking common sense, and I kept my sword
wrapped in my cloak, though his was bared and directed against me.
"You are wrong to take my jests in such bad part," said I; "however, I
apologize to you."
"No apologies; look to yourself."
"Wait till to-morrow, you will be cooler then, but if you still wish it I
will give you satisfaction in the midst of the billiard-room."
"The only satisfaction you can give me is to fight; I want to kill you."
As evidence of his determination, and to provoke me beyond recall, he
struck me with the flat of his sword, the first and last time in my life
in which I have received such and insult. I drew my sword, but still
hoping to bring him to his senses I kept strictly on the defensive and
endeavoured to make him leave off. This conduct the Dutchman mistook for
fear, and pushed hard on me, lunging in a manner that made me look to
myself. His sword passed through my necktie; a quarter of an inch farther
in would have done my business.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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