"Not at all. The lover of his wife, foreseeing the storm that was about
to burst over their heads, got round the fellow, and made him leave the
country by means of a sum more or less large."

The affair was over, but it was soon in all the newspapers, garnished
with all the wit imaginable, and Giardini was warmly praised for the
action he had taken.

As for me I was glad enough to have the matter over, but I felt vexed
with Constantini for having fled without giving the lovers a lesson. I
wrote an account of the circumstances to Baletti, and I heard from Madame
Binetti that the Calori had given her husband a hundred guineas to leave
the country. Some years later I saw the Calori at Prague.

A Flemish officer, the man whom I had helped at Aix-la-Chapelle, had
called on me several times, and had even dined three or four times with
me. I reproached myself for not having been polite enough to return his
call, and when we met in the street, and he reproached me for not having
been to see him, I was obliged to blush. He had his wife and daughter
with him, and some feeling of shame and a good deal of curiosity made me
call on him.

When he saw me he threw his arms about my neck, calling me his preserver.
I was obliged to receive all the compliments which knaves make to honest
men when they hope to take them in. A few moments after, an old woman and
a girl came in, and I was introduced as the Chevalier de Seingalt, of
whom he had spoken so often. The girl, affecting surprise, said she had
known a M. Casanova, who was very like me. I answered that Casanova was
my name as well as Seingalt, but that I had not the happiness of
recollecting her.