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"Aren't you going to take a hand?" he said. "At least you will look on?" "I have something else to do. Good night, Chevalier." From the interior, voices called out into the night: "Lorenzi." "Chevalier." "We are waiting for you." Casanova, standing in the darkness, could see that the Marchesa was leading Lorenzi away from the open greensward into the greater darkness under the trees.
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.
"Is that so?" exclaimed the Marchese, unable to master his rage. He added spitefully: "Do you know, Lorenzi, we, or rather my wife, had counted so definitely on your leaving, that we had invited one of our friends, Baldi the singer, to stay with us next week." "No matter," rejoined Lorenzi, unperturbed. "Baldi and I are the best of friends. We shall get on famously together.
Lorenzi had left debts which she could not pay. She had no friends. She did not know what was to become of her. She had not slept for many nights. She had made up her mind to die as her father had died, because it seemed the only thing to do, when suddenly the thought of Stephen had flashed into her mind, as if sent there by her guardian angel.
"Anyhow," said the Abbate indignantly, "the Lieutenant cannot get the money here by magic." The two Ricardis laughed; but instantly restrained their mirth. Olivo once more addressed the Marchese. "It is plain that you must grant Lieutenant Lorenzi leave to depart." "Yes, if he gives me a pledge," exclaimed the Marchese with flashing eyes, as if this idea gave him peculiar delight.
And, since it is quite impossible for me to suppose that the Marchesa had them reset in rings for Lieutenant Lorenzi, it is obvious that they have been stolen that the whole set has been stolen. Well, well, the pledge suffices, Signor Lieutenant, for the nonce." "Lorenzi!" cried Olivo, "we all give you our word that no one shall ever hear a syllable from us about what has just happened."
The Marchese won. Lorenzi went on with the game, as if this were now a matter of course, and was soon in the Marchese's debt to the amount of one hundred ducats. At this stage Casanova became banker, and had even better luck than the Marchese. There remained only three players. To-day the brothers Ricardi stood aside without complaint. Olivo and the Abbate were merely interested onlookers.
Fancy, that I should be wealthy; and that Lorenzi should be a beggar, and old!" "As far as Lorenzi is concerned," interjected Olivo, "there is not much wealth about him. His father is fairly well off, but no one can say that of the son." Casanova had no need to ask questions. He was speedily informed that it was through the Marchese that they had made the Lieutenant's acquaintance.
She had thrown off the bedclothes; her form was half revealed; still heavy with sleep she moved her hands to ward off the hail of nuts. His senses flamed. He was as certain that Marcolina and Lieutenant Lorenzi were in love with one another as if he had seen them in a passionate embrace. He was just as ready to detest the unknown Lorenzi as to long for the never seen Marcolina.
"I give you my word of honor, Signor Marchese, that you shall have the money at eight o'clock to-morrow morning." "Your word of honor," said the Marchese, "is not worth a single ducat to me, let alone two thousand." The others held their breath. Lorenzi, apparently unmoved, merely answered: "You will give me satisfaction, Signor Marchese."
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