turpitude. He left Venice again and paid a visit to Vienna, saw beloved
Paris once more, and there met Count Wallenstein, or Waldstein. The
conversation turned on magic and the occult sciences, in, which Casanova
was an adept, as the reader of the Memoirs will remember, and the count
took a fancy to the charlatan. In short Casanova became librarian at the
count's Castle of Dux, near Teplitz, and there he spent the fourteen
remaining years of his life.

As the Prince de Ligne (from whose Memoirs we learn these particulars)
remarks, Casanova's life had been a stormy and adventurous one, and it
might have been expected that he would have found his patron's library a
pleasant refuge after so many toils and travels. But the man carried
rough weather and storm in his own heart, and found daily opportunities
of mortification and resentment. The coffee was ill made, the maccaroni
not cooked in the true Italian style, the dogs had bayed during the
night, he had been made to dine at a small table, the parish priest had
tried to convert him, the soup had been served too hot on purpose to
annoy him, he had not been introduced to a distinguished guest, the count
had lent a book without telling him, a groom had not taken off his hat;
such were his complaints. The fact is Casanova felt his dependent
position and his utter poverty, and was all the more determined to stand
to his dignity as a man who had talked with all the crowned heads of
Europe, and had fought a duel with the Polish general. And he had another
reason for finding life bitter--he had lived beyond his time. Louis XV.
was dead, and Louis XVI. had been guillotined; the Revolution had come;
and Casanova, his dress, and his manners, appeared as odd and antique as
some "blood of the Regency" would appear to us of these days. Sixty years
before, Marcel, the famous dancing-master, had taught young Casanova how
to enter a room with a lowly and ceremonious bow; and still, though the
eighteenth century is drawing to a close, old Casanova enters the rooms