thousand nights of love with new and ever new
women for one single night of love which neither night nor day was to
follow."

Lorenzi remained mute. His silence continued for many minutes, until
Casanova began to ask himself how long his patience was to be tried.
He was on the point of departing with a curt salutation, and of thus
indicating that he understood his proposition to have been rejected,
when Lorenzi, without a word slowly moved his right hand backwards into
the tail-pocket of his coat. Casanova, ever on his guard, instantly
stepped back a pace, and was ready to duck. Lorenzi handed him the key
of the garden door.

Casanova's movement, which had certainly betokened fear, brought to
Lorenzi's lips the flicker of a contemptuous smile. Casanova was able to
repress all sign of his rising anger, for he knew that had he given way
to it he might have ruined his design. Taking the key with a nod, he
merely said: "No doubt that means Yes. In an hour from now--an hour will
suffice for your understanding with Marcolina--I shall expect you in
the turret chamber. There, in exchange for your cloak, I shall have the
pleasure of handing you the two thousand gold pieces without further
delay. First of all, as a token of confidence; and secondly because I
really do not know what I should do with the money during the night."

They parted without further formality. Lorenzi returned to the house by
the path along which they had both come. Casanova made his way to the
village by a different route. At the inn there, by paying a considerable
sum as earnest money, he was able to arrange for a carriage to await
him at ten o'clock that evening for the drive from Olivo's house into
Mantua.

CHAPTER NINE.

Returning to the house, Casanova disposed of his gold in a safe corner
of the turret chamber. Thence he descended to the garden, where a
spectacle awaited him, not in itself remarkable, but one which touched
him strangely in his present mood. Upon a bench at the edge of the
greensward Olivo was sitting beside Amalia, his arm round her waist.
Reclining at their feet were the three girls, tired out by the
afternoon's play. Maria, the youngest, had her head in her mother's lap,
and seemed to be asleep; Nanetta lay at full length on the grass with
her head pillowed on her arm; Teresina was leaning against her father's
knee, and he was stroking her hair. As Casanova drew near, Teresina
greeted him, not with the look of lasciv