Three weeks after, the minister summoned me to say that he had spoken of
me to M. Erizzo, the Venetian ambassador, who had nothing to say against
me, but for fear of embroiling himself with the State Inquisitors
declined to receive me. Not wanting anything from him--his refusal did me
no harm. M. de Bernis then told me that he had given a copy of my history
to Madame la Marquise de Pompadour, and he promised to take the first
opportunity of presenting me to this all-powerful lady. "You can present
yourself, my dear Casanova," added his excellence, "to the Duc de
Choiseul, and M. de Boulogne, the comptroller. You will be well received,
and with a little wit you ought to be able to make good use of the
letter. He himself will give you the cue, and you will see that he who
listens obtains. Try to invent some useful plan for the royal exchequer;
don't let it be complicated or chimerical, and if you don't write it out
at too great length I will give you my opinion on it."

I left the minister in a pleased and grateful mood, but extremely puzzled
to find a way of increasing the royal revenue. I knew nothing of finance,
and after racking my brains all that I could think of was new methods of
taxation; but all my plans were either absurd or certain to be unpopular,
and I rejected them all on consideration.

As soon as I found out that M. de Choiseul was in Paris I called on him.
He received me in his dressing-room, where he was writing while his valet
did his hair. He stretched his politeness so far as to interrupt himself
several times to ask me questions, but as soon as I began to reply his
grace began to write again, and I suspect did not hear what I was saying;
and though now and again he seemed to be looking at me, it was plain that
his eyes and his thoughts were occupied on different objects. In spite of
this way of receiving visitors--or me, at all events, M. de Choiseul was
a man of wit.