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Updated: June 12, 2025
Olivo introduced him as Abbate Rossi, and Casanova at once recognized him as the man he had met twenty-seven years earlier upon a market boat plying between Venice and Chioggia. "You had one eye bandaged," said Casanova, who rarely missed a chance of showing off his excellent memory.
Casanova turned away, and for the moment wrapped himself in his cloak once more, for though the sun was already piercing the morning mists, the air was chill. Long shadows lay across the fields, cast by the sparse trees on the hill-top. For an instant Casanova wondered whether someone might not come down the path. Doubtless it was used only by Olivo and the members of his household.
It must be glorious to bear so renowned a name." "You flatter me, Signor Marchese," replied Casanova. "I have not yet abandoned the hope of winning such a name, but I am still far from having done so. It may be that a work on which I am now engaged will bring me nearer to the goal." "We can take a short cut here," said Olivo, turning into a path which led straight to the wall of his garden.
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.
"I suppose," she said, "it was your meeting with the Chevalier that has made you so late, Olivo?" "Yes, that is why I am late. But I hope there is still something to eat?" "Marcolina and I were frightfully hungry, but of course we have waited dinner for you." "Can you manage to wait a few minutes longer," asked Casanova, "while I get rid of the dust of the drive?"
Not merely was the window closed, but the iron grating had been fastened; within, the window was curtained. There had been times, thought Casanova, when all these precautions had been unavailing, or had been without significance. They reëntered the house. Olivo would not be dissuaded from accompanying the guest up the creaking staircase into the turret chamber.
If you will allow me, Signor Olivo, I will take leave of the ladies before riding into town. I must reach Mantua ere nightfall in order to make preparations for to-morrow." "Shameless liar," thought Casanova. "You will return here to-night, to Marcolina's arms!" Rage flamed up in him anew. "What!" exclaimed the Marchese maliciously. "The evening will not come for hours.
In days gone by he had possessed the girl's mother and grandmother also, and he thought it a particularly good joke that he was paying the little wench for her favors under the very eyes of her father. When Casanova entered the hall with Olivo, cards had already begun.
Yet now, when Olivo introduced him to Marcolina as Signor Casanova, Chevalier de Seingalt, she smiled as she would have smiled at some utterly indifferent name that carried with it no aroma of adventure and mystery.
He swore to question her face to face; to denounce her before Olivo, Amalia, the Marchese, the Abbate, the servants, as nothing better than a lustful little whore. As if for practice, he recounted to himself in detail what he had just witnessed, delighting in the invention of incidents which would degrade her yet further.
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