Casanovas Homecoming | Page 8

to read, no one bothered about the
storm." The three girls had encircled the Abbate. For an excellent
reason. From his capacious pockets he produced quantities of luscious
sweets, and popped them into the children's mouths with his stumpy
fingers. Meanwhile Olivo gave the newcomer a circumstantial account
of the rediscovery of Casanova. Dreamily Amalia continued to gaze at

the beloved guest's masterful brown forehead.
The children ran out into the garden; Marcolina had risen from the table
and was watching them through the open window. The Abbate had
brought a message from the Marchese Celsi, who proposed to call that
evening, with his wife, upon his dear friend Olivo.
"Excellent," said Olivo. "We shall have a pleasant game of cards in
honor of the Chevalier. I am expecting the two Ricardis; and Lorenzi is
also coming--the girls met him out riding this morning."
"Is he still here?" asked the Abbate. "A week ago I was told he had to
rejoin his regiment."
"I expect the Marchesa got him an extension of leave from the
Colonel."
"I am surprised," interjected Casanova, "that any Mantuese officers can
get leave at present." He went on: "Two friends of mine, one from
Mantua and the other from Cremona, left last night with their regiments,
marching towards Milan."
"Has war broken out?" inquired Marcolina from the window. She had
turned round; her face betrayed nothing, but there was a slight quaver
in her voice which no one but Casanova noticed.
"It may come to nothing," he said lightly. "But the Spaniards seem
rather bellicose, and it is necessary to be on the alert."
Olivo looked important and wrinkled his brow. "Does anyone know,"
he asked, "whether we shall side with Spain or with France?"
"I don't think Lieutenant Lorenzi will care a straw about that,"
suggested the Abbate. "All he wants is a chance to prove his military
prowess."
"He has done so already," said Amalia. "He was in the battle at Pavia
three years ago."

Marcolina said not a word.
Casanova knew enough. He went to the window beside Marcolina and
looked out into the garden. He saw nothing but the wide greensward
where the children were playing. It was surrounded by a close-set row
of stately trees within the encompassing wall.
"What lovely grounds," he said, turning to Olivo. "I should so like to
have a look at them."
"Nothing would please me better, Chevalier," answered Olivo, "than to
show you my vineyards and the rest of my estate. You need only ask
Amalia, and she will tell you that during the years since I bought this
little place I have had no keener desire than to welcome you as guest
upon my own land and under my own roof. Ten times at least I was on
the point of writing you an invitation, but was always withheld by the
doubt whether my letter would reach you. If I did happen to hear from
some one that he had recently seen you in Lisbon, I could be quite sure
that in the interval you would have left for Warsaw or Vienna. Now,
when as if by miracle I have caught you on the point of quitting Mantua,
and when--I can assure you, Amalia, it was no easy matter--I have
succeeded in enticing you here, you are so niggard with your time
that--would you believe it, Signor Abbate, he refuses to spare us more
than a couple of days!"
"Perhaps the Chevalier will allow himself to be persuaded to prolong
his visit," said the Abbate, who was contentedly munching a huge
mouthful of peach. As he spoke, he glanced at Amalia in a way that led
Casanova to infer that his hostess had told the Abbate more than she
had told her husband.
"I fear that will be quite impossible," said Casanova with decision. "I
need not conceal from friends who are so keenly interested in my
fortunes, that my Venetian fellow-citizens are on the point of atoning
for the injustice of earlier years. The atonement comes rather late, but is
all the more honorable. I should seem ungrateful, or even rancorous,
were I to resist their importunities any longer." With a wave of his hand
he warded off an eager but respectful enquiry which he saw taking

shape upon his host's lips, and hastened to remark: "Well, Olivo, I am
ready. Show me your little kingdom."
"Would it not be wiser," interposed Amalia, "to wait until it is cooler? I
am sure the Chevalier would prefer to rest for a while, or to stroll in the
shade." Her eyes sought Casanova's with shy entreaty, as if she thought
her fate would be decided once again during such a walk in the garden.
No one had anything to say against Amalia's suggestion, and they all
went