Casanovas Homecoming | Page 5

Three young girls sprang out, moving with such activity that the
knife-board on which they had been sitting flew into the air and was
overturned.
"My daughters," said Olivo, turning to Casanova with a proprietary air.
Casanova promptly moved as if to relinquish his seat in the carriage.
"Stay where you are, my dear Chevalier," said Olivo. "We shall be at
home in a quarter of an hour, and for that little while we can all make
shift together. Maria, Nanetta, Teresina, this is the Chevalier de
Seingalt, an old friend of mine. Shake hands with him. But for him you
would...."
He broke off, and whispered to Casanova: "I was just going to say
something foolish."
Amending his phrase, he said: "But for him, things would have been
very different!"
Like their father, the girls had black hair and dark eyes. All of them
including Teresina, the eldest, who was still quite the child, looked at
the stranger with frank rustic curiosity. Casanova did not stand upon
ceremony; he kissed each of the girls upon either cheek. Olivo said a
word or two to the lad who was driving the trap in which the children

had come, and the fellow whipped up the pony and drove along the
road towards Mantua.
Laughing and joking, the girls took possession of the seat opposite
Olivo and Casanova. They were closely packed; they all spoke at once;
and since their father likewise went on talking, Casanova found it far
from easy at first to follow the conversation. One name caught his ear,
that of Lieutenant Lorenzi. Teresina explained that the Lieutenant had
passed them on horseback not long before, had said he intended to call
in the evening, and had sent his respects to Father. Mother had at first
meant to come with them to meet Father, but as it was so frightfully hot
she had thought it better to stay at home with Marcolina. As for
Marcolina, she was still in bed when they left home. When they came
along the garden path they had pelted her with hazel nuts through the
open window, or she would still be asleep.
"That's not Marcolina's way," said Olivo to his guest. "Generally she is
at work in the garden at six or even earlier, and sits over her books till
dinner time. Of course we had visitors yesterday, and were up later than
usual. We had a mild game of cards--not the sort of game you are used
to, for we are innocent folk and don't want to win money from one
another. Besides, our good Abbate usually takes a hand, so you can
imagine, Chevalier, that we don't play for high stakes."
At the mention of the Abbate, the three girls laughed again, had an
anecdote to tell, and this made them laugh more than ever. Casanova
nodded amicably, without paying much attention. In imagination he
saw Marcolina, as yet unknown to him, lying in her white bed, opposite
the window. She had thrown off the bedclothes; her form was half
revealed; still heavy with sleep she moved her hands to ward off the
hail of nuts. His senses flamed. He was as certain that Marcolina and
Lieutenant Lorenzi were in love with one another as if he had seen
them in a passionate embrace. He was just as ready to detest the
unknown Lorenzi as to long for the never seen Marcolina.
Through the shimmering haze of noon, a small, square tower now
became visible, thrusting upward through the greyish-green foliage.
The carriage turned into a by-road. To the left were vineyards rising on

a gentle slope; to the right the crests of ancient trees showed above the
wall of a garden. The carriage halted at a doorway in the wall. The
weather-worn door stood wide. The passengers alighted, and at the
master's nod the coachman drove away to the stable. A broad path led
through a chestnut avenue to the house, which at first sight had an
almost neglected appearance. Casanova's attention was especially
attracted by a broken window in the first story. Nor did it escape his
notice that the battlements of the squat tower were crumbling in places.
But the house door was gracefully carved; and directly he entered the
hall it was plain that the interior was carefully kept, and was certainly
in far better condition than might have been supposed from the outward
aspect.
"Amalia," shouted Olivo, so loudly that the vaulted ceiling rang.
"Come down as quickly as you can! I have brought a friend home with
me, an old friend whom you'll be delighted to see!"
Amalia had already appeared on the stairs, although to most of those
who had just come out of the glaring sunlight she was invisible in the
twilit interior. Casanova, whose