household of a distinguished professor at the university of Bologna,
Morgagni to wit, who hoped that his pupil would become a woman of great
learning. She always spent the summer with her uncle. There had been
several proposals for her hand; one from a Bolognese merchant; one from
a neighboring landowner; and lastly the proposal of Lieutenant Lorenzi.
She had refused them all, and it seemed to be her design to devote her
whole life to the service of knowledge. As Olivo rambled on with his
story, Casanova's desires grew beyond measure, while the recognition
that these desires were utterly foolish and futile reduced him almost to
despair.




CHAPTER THREE.


Casanova and Olivo regained the highroad. In a cloud of dust, a carriage
drove up, and as they drew near the occupants shouted greetings. The
newcomers were an elderly gentleman in elegant attire and a lady who was
somewhat younger, of generous proportions, and conspicuously rouged.

"The Marchese," whispered Olivo to his companion.

The carriage halted.

"Good evening, my dear Olivo," said the Marchese. "Will you be so good
as to introduce me to the Chevalier de Seingalt? I have no doubt that it
is the Chevalier whom I have the pleasure of seeing."