sacks and various odds and ends, lay her husband, drunk and snoring.
Casanova strode by beneath the chestnut trees that lined the highway,
his face working with wrath, unintelligible phrases hissing from between
his clenched teeth. The woman glanced at him inquisitively and mockingly
at first, then, on encountering an angry glare, with some alarm, and
finally, after she had passed, there was amorous invitation in the look
she gave him over her shoulder. Casanova, who was well aware that rage
and hatred can assume the semblance of youth more readily than can
gentleness and amiability, was prompt to realize that a bold response on
his part would bring the cart to a standstill, and that the young woman
would be ready to give him any assignation he pleased. Nevertheless,
although the recognition of this fact put him in a better humor for the
nonce, it seemed hardly worth while to waste minutes upon so trivial
an adventure. He was content, therefore, to allow the peasant woman to
drive her cart and all its contents unimpeded through the dust of the
roadway.

The sun was now high in the heavens, and the shade of the trees hardly
tempered the heat. Casanova was soon compelled to moderate his pace.

Under the thick powder of dust the shabbiness of his garments was no
longer apparent, so that by his dress and bearing he might easily have
been taken for a gentleman of station who had been pleased for once in a
way to walk instead of drive. He had almost reached the arched gateway
near his inn, when he met a heavy country carriage lumbering along the
road. In it was seated a stoutish man, well dressed, and still fairly
young. His hands were clasped across his stomach, his eyelids drooped,
and he seemed about to doze off, when of a sudden he caught sight
of Casanova, and a great change took place in him. His whole aspect
betrayed great excitement. He sprang to his feet, but too quickly, and