in the evening, and had sent his respects to Father. Mother had at first
meant to come with them to meet Father, but as it was so frightfully
hot she had thought it better to stay at home with Marcolina. As for
Marcolina, she was still in bed when they left home. When they came
along the garden path they had pelted her with hazel nuts through the
open window, or she would still be asleep.

"That's not Marcolina's way," said Olivo to his guest. "Generally she is
at work in the garden at six or even earlier, and sits over her books
till dinner time. Of course we had visitors yesterday, and were up later
than usual. We had a mild game of cards--not the sort of game you are
used to, for we are innocent folk and don't want to win money from one
another. Besides, our good Abbate usually takes a hand, so you can
imagine, Chevalier, that we don't play for high stakes."

At the mention of the Abbate, the three girls laughed again, had an
anecdote to tell, and this made them laugh more than ever. Casanova
nodded amicably, without paying much attention. In imagination he saw
Marcolina, as yet unknown to him, lying in her white bed, opposite the
window. 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.

Through the shimmering haze of noon, a small, square tower now became
visible, thrusting upward through the greyish-green foliage. The
carriage turned into a by-road. To the left were vineyards rising on a
gentle slope; to the right the crests of ancient trees showed above the