and submissiveness both issue from God."

Olivo looked at his niece with timid admiration, then turned to
contemplate Casanova with some anxiety. Casanova was in search of a
rejoinder which should convince Marcolina that she was in one breath
affirming and denying God, or should prove to her that she was
proclaiming God and the Devil to be the same. He realized, however, that
he had nothing but empty words to set against her feelings, and to-day
words did not come to him readily. His expression showed him to be
somewhat at a loss, and apparently reminded Amalia of the confused
menaces he had uttered on the previous day. So she hastened to remark:
"Marcolina is deeply religious all the same, I can assure you,
Chevalier."

Marcolina smiled.

"We are all religious in our several ways," said Casanova civilly.

Now came a turn in the road, and the nunnery was in sight. The slender
tops of cypresses showed above the encircling wall. At the sound of the
approaching carriage, the great doors had swung open. The porter, an old
man with a flowing white beard, bowed gravely and gave them admittance.
Through the cloisters, between the columns of which they caught glimpses
of an overgrown garden, they advanced towards the main building, from
whose unadorned, grey, and prison-like exterior an unpleasantly cool
air was wafted. Olivo pulled the bellrope; the answering sound was
high-pitched, and died away in a moment. A veiled nun silently appeared,
and ushered the guests into the spacious parlor. It contained merely
a few plain wooden chairs, and the back was cut off by a heavy iron
grating, beyond which nothing could be seen but a vague darkness.

With bitterness in his heart, Casanova recalled the adventure which
still seemed to him the most wonderful of all his experiences. It had
begun in just such surroundings as the present. Before his eyes loomed
the forms of the two inmates of the Murano convent who had been friends
in their love for him. In conjunction they had bestowed upon him hours
of incomparable sweetness. When Olivo, in a whisper, began to speak
of the strict discipline imposed upon this sisterhood--once they were
professed, the nuns must never appear unveiled before a man, and they
were vowed to perpetual silence--a smile flitted across Casanova's face.

The Abbess suddenly emerged from the gloom, and was standing in their
midst. In silence she saluted her guests, and with an exaggerated
reverence of her veiled