This indulgence at a time when I had not yet recovered my full strength made me enjoy a long sleep. Just as I awoke I was handed a summons to appear before the burgomaster. I made haste with my toilette, for I felt curious to know the reason of this citation, and I was aware I had nothing to fear. When I appeared, the magistrate addressed me in German, to which I turned a deaf ear, for I only knew enough of that language to ask for necessaries. When he was informed of my ignorance of German he addressed me in Latin, not of the Ciceronian kind by any means, but in that peculiar dialect which obtains at most of the German universities.
“Why do you bear a false name?” he asked.
“My name is not false. You can ask Carli, the banker, who has paid me fifty thousand florins.”
“I know that; but your name is Casanova, so why do you call yourself Seingalt?”
“I take this name, or rather I have taken it, because it belongs to me, and in such a manner that if anyone else dared to take it I should contest it as my property by every legitimate resource.”
“Ah! and how does this name belong to you?”
“Because I invented it; but that does not prevent my being Casanova as well.”
“Sir, you must choose between Casanova and Seingalt; a man cannot have two names.”
“The Spaniards and Portuguese often have half a dozen names.”
“But you are not a Spaniard or a Portuguese; you are an Italian: and, after all, how can one invent a name?”