to himself, Casanova sat at table with the others, and paid court to
Marcolina in the sportive manner which might seem appropriate from a
distinguished elderly gentleman towards a well-bred young woman of the
burgher class. She accepted his attentions gracefully, in the spirit in
which they appeared to be offered. He found it difficult to believe that
his demure neighbor was the same Marcolina from whose bedroom window he
had seen a young officer emerge, a man who had obviously held her in
his arms but a few moments earlier. It was equally difficult for him to
realize how this tender girl, who was fond of romping on the grass with
other children, could conduct a learned correspondence with Saugrenue,
the renowned mathematician of Paris. Yet simultaneously he derided
himself for the inertness of his imagination. Had he not learned a
thousand times that in the souls of all persons who are truly alive,
discrepant elements, nay, apparently hostile elements, may coexist in
perfect harmony? He himself, who shortly before had been so profoundly
moved, had been desperate, had been ready for evil deeds, was now so
gentle, so kindly, in so merry a mood, that Olivo's little daughters
were shaking their sides with laughter. Nevertheless, as was usual with
him after strong excitement, his appetite was positively ferocious, and
this served to warn him that order was not yet fully restored in his
soul.

With the last course, the maid brought in a despatch which had just
arrived for the Chevalier by special messenger from Mantua. Olivo
noticed that Casanova grew pale. He told the servant to provide the
messenger with refreshment, then turned to his guest.

"Pray don't stand upon ceremony, Chevalier. Read your letter."

"If you will excuse me," answered Casanova. He went to the window and