"Is he?" said the other, "I shall be glad to see him, and ask for an
explanation which he will not like."

I looked at the man, and feeling certain that I had never seen him before
I began to get enraged; but I merely asked the fellow if he knew
Casanova.

"I'll ought to know him," said he, in that self-satisfied tone which is
always so unpleasant.

"Nay, sir, you are mistaken; I am Casanova."

Without losing his self-possession, he replied, insolently,

"You are really very much mistaken if you think you are the only Casanova
in the world."

It was a sharp answer, and put me in the wrong. I bit my lips and held my
tongue, but I was grievously offended, and determined to make him find
the Casanova who was in Holland, and from whom he was going to extract an
unpleasant explanation, in myself. In the meanwhile I bore as well as I
could the poor figure he must be cutting before the officers at table,
who, after hearing the insolence of this young blockhead, might take me
for a coward. He, the insolent fellow, had no scruple in abusing the
triumph his answer had given him, and talked away in the random fashion.
At last he forgot himself so far as to ask from what country I came.

"I am a Venetian, sir," I replied.