marching towards Milan."

"Has war broken out?" inquired Marcolina from the window. She had turned
round; her face betrayed nothing, but there was a slight quaver in her
voice which no one but Casanova noticed.

"It may come to nothing," he said lightly. "But the Spaniards seem
rather bellicose, and it is necessary to be on the alert."

Olivo looked important and wrinkled his brow. "Does anyone know," he
asked, "whether we shall side with Spain or with France?"

"I don't think Lieutenant Lorenzi will care a straw about that,"
suggested the Abbate. "All he wants is a chance to prove his military
prowess."

"He has done so already," said Amalia. "He was in the battle at Pavia
three years ago."

Marcolina said not a word.

Casanova knew enough. He went to the window beside Marcolina and looked
out into the garden. He saw nothing but the wide greensward where the
children were playing. It was surrounded by a close-set row of stately
trees within the encompassing wall.

"What lovely grounds," he said, turning to Olivo. "I should so like to
have a look at them."

"Nothing would please me better, Chevalier," answered Olivo, "than to