of Dux with the same stately bow, but now everyone laughs. Old Casanova
treads the grave measures of the minuet; they applauded his dancing once,
but now everyone laughs. Young Casanova was always dressed in the height
of the fashion; but the age of powder, wigs, velvets, and silks has
departed, and old Casanova's attempts at elegance ("Strass" diamonds have
replaced the genuine stones with him) are likewise greeted with laughter.
No wonder the old adventurer denounces the whole house of Jacobins and
canaille; the world, he feels, is permanently out of joint for him;
everything is cross, and everyone is in a conspiracy to drive the iron
into his soul.

At last these persecutions, real or imaginary, drive him away from Dux;
he considers his genius bids him go, and, as before, he obeys. Casanova
has but little pleasure or profit out of this his last journey; he has to
dance attendance in ante-chambers; no one will give him any office,
whether as tutor, librarian, or chamberlain. In one quarter only is he
well received--namely, by the famous Duke of Weimar; but in a few days he
becomes madly jealous of the duke's more famous proteges, Goethe and
Wieland, and goes off declaiming against them and German literature
generally--with which literature he was wholly unacquainted. From Weimar
to Berlin; where there are Jews to whom he has introductions. Casanova
thinks them ignorant, superstitious, and knavish; but they lend him
money, and he gives bills on Count Wallenstein, which are paid. In six
weeks the wanderer returns to Dux, and is welcomed with open arms; his
journeys are over at last.

But not his troubles. A week after his return there are strawberries at
dessert; everyone is served before himself, and when the plate comes
round to him it is empty. Worse still: his portrait is missing from his
room, and is discovered 'salement placarde a la porte des lieux