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Updated: June 12, 2025
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.
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.
She could not recall the journey thither, but could only remember having seen an old man wrapped in a scarlet cloak, disembarking from a long black boat. He had stumbled and had fallen prone. "Have you never been to Venice either?" asked Casanova of Marcolina, who was seated facing him, so that she could see over his shoulder into the deep gloom of the garden. She shook her head.
Once again the senators in their purple robes were seated at the table; but now Casanova knew that the hazards at stake were not those of a game of cards; he knew that the destinies of accused persons, some criminal and some innocent, hung in the balance. What had become of Marcolina? Had he not been holding her by the hand all the time? He rushed down the staircase. The gondola was waiting.
Talk to her; talk to her. You will soon ask her pardon and mine." Marcolina came up with the girls, who ran on into the house. She paused, as if out of courtesy to the guest, standing before him, while Amalia deliberately withdrew.
Since not even Lorenzi had succeeded with Marcolina, since she had rejected the hand of this comely officer who was as handsome and as bold as he, Casanova, had been in youth, Marcolina might well prove to be that wonder of the world in the existence of which he had hitherto disbelieved the virtuous woman. At this juncture he laughed, so that the walls reëchoed.
He had no eyes for anyone but Marcolina, who smiled at him frankly and in the friendliest fashion. In her lap was a plateful of early-ripe grapes, which she was eating deliberately. Contempt, anger, and hatred vanished from Casanova's heart. All he knew was that he loved her.
In telling the story of these riotous escapades, he was careful to avoid the use of any offensive epithet. He phrased his narrative in choice imaginative language, as if paying due regard to the presence of the young girls, who, like their elders, including Marcolina, listened with rapt attention. The hour grew late, and Amalia sent her daughters to bed.
The water was now warm, now cold; it dripped from his clothing as he climbed over the wall. "Where is Marcolina?" he enquired in the parlor, in loud, challenging tones such as only a prince would dare to use. "I will summon her," said the Lady Abbess, and sank into the ground. Casanova wandered about; he had wings; he fluttered to and fro along the gratings, fluttered like a bat.
Marcolina did not fail to notice the involuntary pause in the flow of his conversation; she perceived that his gaze had begun to flicker strangely. In her countenance he could read a sudden hostility, a protest, a trace of disgust. Casanova speedily recovered his self-command, and was about to continue his reminiscences with renewed vigor, when a portly priest entered.
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