through the village, all the houses were dark. A little farther on, the
coachman was about to turn into the by-road leading up the gentle ascent
to Olivo's house.

"Halt!" cried Casanova. "We won't drive any nearer, lest we should wake
them all up. Wait for me here at the corner. I shall be back in a minute
or two. If I should happen to keep you longer, you shall have a ducat
for every hour!"

The man by his nod seemed to show he understood what was afoot.

Casanova descended and made quickly past the closed door and along the
wall to the corner. Here began the path leading through the vineyards.
It still led along the wall. Having walked it twice by daylight,
Casanova had no difficulty in the dark. Half way up the hill came a
second angle in the wall. Here he had again to turn to the right, across
soft meadow-land, and in the pitchy night had to feel along the wall
until he found the garden door. At length his fingers recognized the
change from smooth stone to rough wood, and he could easily make out the
framework of the narrow door. He unlocked it, entered the garden, and
made all fast again behind him.

Across the greensward he could now discern house and tower. They seemed
incredibly far off and yet incredibly large. He stood where he was for a
while, looking around. What to other eyes would have been impenetrable
darkness, was to him no more than deep twilight. The gravel path
being painful to his bare feet, he walked upon the greensward, where,
moreover, his footfall made no sound. So light was his tread that he
felt as if soaring.