for he did not really wish the coachman to hear. The coachman,
nearing the goal, had given the horse his head. Soon they reached the
gate through which Casanova had left the town with Olivo less than
forty-eight hours earlier. He told the coachman the name of the inn, and
in a few minutes the carriage drew up at the sign of the Golden Lion.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Casanova leaped from the carriage. The hostess stood in the doorway. She
was bright and smiling, in the mood apparently to give Casanova the warm
welcome of a lover whose absence has been regretted and whose return
has been eagerly desired. But Casanova looked warningly towards the
coachman, implying that the man might be an inconvenient witness, and
then told him to eat and drink to his heart's content.

"A letter from Venice arrived for you yesterday, Chevalier," announced
the hostess.

"Another?" enquired Casanova, going upstairs to his room.

The hostess followed. A sealed despatch was lying on the table. Casanova
opened it in great excitement. He was anxious lest it should prove to be
a revocation of the former offer. But the missive contained no more than
a few lines from Bragadino, enclosing a draft for two hundred and fifty
lire, in order that Casanova, should he have made up his mind to accept,
might instantly set out for Venice.

Turning to the hostess, Casanova explained with an air of well-simulated
vexation that he was unfortunately compelled to continue his journey
instantly. Were he to delay, he would risk losing the post which his
friend Bragadino had procured for him in Venice, a post for which there
were fully a hundred applicants. Threatening clouds gathered on the
hostess' face, so Casanova was prompt to add that all he proposed was to
make sure of the appointment and to receive his patent as secretary to
the Supreme Council. As soon as he was installed in office, he would ask
permission to return to Mantua, that he might arrange his affairs. Of
course this request could not be refused. He was going to leave most
of his effects here. When he returned, it would only depend upon his
beloved and charming friend whether she would give up inn-keeping and
accompany him to Venice as his wife. She threw her arms round his neck,
and with brimming eyes asked him whether before starting he would not at
least make a good breakfast, if she might bring it up to his room. He
knew she had in mind to provide a farewell feast, and though he felt
no a