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 lascivious understanding which he had
involuntarily expected, but with a frank smile of childlike confidence,
as if what had passed between them only a few hours before had been
nothing more than some trivial pastime. Olivo's face lighted up in
friendly fashion, and Amalia nodded a cordial greeting. It was plain to
Casanova that they were receiving him as one who had just performed a
generous deed, but who would prefer, from a sense of refinement, that no
allusion should be made to the matter.

"Are you really determined to leave us tomorrow, Chevalier?" enquired
Olivo.

"Not to-morrow," answered Casanova, "but, as I told you, this very
evening."