As I had not committed any crime, I was quite at ease; I knew that my arrest must be the effect of a slander, and as I was aware that London justice was speedy and equitable, I thought I should soon be free. But I blamed myself for having transgressed the excellent maxim, never to answer anyone in the night time; for if I had not done so I should have been in my house, and not in prison. The mistake, however, had been committed, and there was nothing to be done but to wait patiently. I amused myself by reflecting on my rapid passage from a numerous and exalted assemblage to the vile place I now occupied, though I was still dressed like a prince. At last the day dawned, and the keeper of the tavern came to see who the prisoner was. I could not helping laughing at him when he saw me, for he immediately began to abuse the constables for not awaking him when I came; he had lost the guinea I should have paid for a private room. At last news was brought that the magistrate was sitting, and that I must be brought up. A coach was summoned, and I got into it, for if I had dared to walk along the streets in my magnificent attire the mob would have pelted me. I went into the hall of justice, and all eyes were at once attracted towards me; my silks and satins appeared to them the height of impertinence. At the end of the room I saw a gentleman sitting in an arm-chair, and concluded him to be my judge. I was right, and the judge was blind. He wore a broad band round his head, passing over his eyes. A man beside me, guessing I was a foreigner, said in French,-- “Be of good courage, Mr. Fielding is a just and equitable magistrate.” I thanked the kindly unknown, and was delighted to see before me this famous and estimable writer, whose works are an honour to the English nation. When my turn came, the clerk of the court told Mr. Fielding my name, at least, so I presume. “Signor Casanova,” said he, in excellent Italian, “be kind enough to step forward. I wish to speak to you.” I was delighted to hear the accents of my native tongue, and making my way through the press I came up to the bar of the court, and said,-- “Eccomi, Signore.” He continued to speak Italian, and said,-- “Signor de Casanova, of Venice, you are condemned to perpetual confinement in the prisons of His Majesty the King of Great Britain.” “I should like to know, sir, for what crime I am condemned. Would you be kind enough to inform me as to its nature?” “Your demand is a reasonable one, for with us no one is condemned without knowing the cause of his condemnation. You must know, then, that the accusation (which is supported by two witnesses) charges you with intending to do grievous bodily harm to the person of a pretty girl; and as this pretty girl aforesaid goes in dread of you, the law decrees that you must be kept in prison for the rest of your days.”