"I hope, Marcolina," said Lorenzi, speaking to her for the first time,
"that you will not attempt to imitate the noble abbess in other respects
as well as learning."

"Why should I?" rejoined Marcolina serenely. "We can maintain our
freedom without vows. Better without than with, for a vow is a form of
coercion."

Casanova was sitting next to her. He did not dare to let his foot touch
hers lightly, or to press his knee against hers. He was certain that
should she for the third time look at him with that expression of horror
and loathing, he would be driven to some act of folly. As the meal
progressed, as the number of emptied glasses grew and the conversation
waxed livelier and more general, Casanova heard, once more as from afar,
Amalia's voice.

"I have spoken to Marcolina."

"You have spoken to her?" A mad hope flamed up in him. "Calm yourself,
Casanova. We did not speak of you, but only of her and her plans for the
future. I say to you again, she will never give herself to any man."

Olivo, who had been drinking freely, suddenly rose, glass in hand, and
delivered himself of a few stumbling phrases concerning the great honor
conferred upon his humble home by the visit of his dear friend, the
Chevalier de Seingalt.

"But where, my dear Olivo, is the Chevalier de Seingalt of whom you
speak?" enquired Lorenzi in his clear, insolent voice.