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Complete Memoirs of Casanova

Milan And Mantua
Slight Misfortunes Compel Me to Leave Venice--My Adventures in Milan and Mantua
On Low Sunday Charles paid us a visit with his lovely wife, who seemed totally
indifferent to what Christine used to be. Her hair dressed with powder did not please me
as well as the raven black of her beautiful locks, and her fashionable town attire did not,
in my eyes, suit her as well as her rich country dress. But the countenances of husband
and wife bore the stamp of happiness. Charles reproached me in a friendly manner
because I had not called once upon them, and, in order to atone for my apparent
negligence, I went to see them the next day with M. Dandolo. Charles told me that his
wife was idolized by his aunt and his sister who had become her bosom friend; that she
was kind, affectionate, unassuming, and of a disposition which enforced affection. I was
no less pleased with this favourable state of things than with the facility with which
Christine was learning the Venetian dialect.
When M. Dandolo and I called at their house, Charles was not at home; Christine was
alone with his two relatives. The most friendly welcome was proffered to us, and in the
course of conversation the aunt praised the progress made by Christine in her writing
very highly, and asked her to let me see her copy-book. I followed her to the next room,
where she told me that she was very happy; that every day she discovered new virtues in
her husband. He had told her, without the slightest appearance of suspicion of
displeasure, that he knew that we had spent two days together in Treviso, and that he had
laughed at the well-meaning fool who had given him that piece of information in the
hope of raising a cloud in the heaven of their felicity.
Charles was truly endowed with all the virtues, with all the noble qualities of an honest
and distinguished man. Twenty-six years afterwards I happened to require the assistance
of his purse, and found him my true friend. I never was a frequent visitor at his house,
and he appreciated my delicacy. He died a few months before my last departure from
Venice, leaving his widow in easy circumstances, and three well-educated sons, all with
good positions, who may, for what I know, be still living with their mother.
In June I went to the fair at Padua, and made the acquaintance of a young man of my own
age, who was then studying mathematics under the celebrated Professor Succi. His name
was Tognolo, but thinking it did not sound well, he changed it for that of Fabris. He
became, in after years, Comte de Fabris, lieutenant-general under Joseph II., and died
Governor of Transylvania. This man, who owed his high fortune to his talents, would,
perhaps, have lived and died unknown if he had kept his name of Tognolo, a truly vulgar
one. He was from Uderzo, a large village of the Venetian Friuli. He had a brother in the
Church, a man of parts, and a great gamester, who, having a deep knowledge of the
world, had taken the name of Fabris, and the younger brother had to assume it likewise.
Soon afterwards he bought an estate with the title of count, became a Venetian nobleman,