her he might not make a better use of his present
knowledge. Was she not in his power? Could he not now exact by threats
the favors which she had not been willing to grant him for love? But
this infamous design was speedily abandoned; not so much because
Casanova realized its infamy, as because, even while the plan crossed
his mind, he was aware of its futility. Why should Marcolina,
accountable to no one but herself, be concerned at his threats? In the
last resort she was astute enough, if needs must, to have him driven
from the house as a slanderer and blackmailer. Even if, for one reason
or another, she were willing to give herself to him in order to preserve
the secret of her amours with Lorenzi (he was aware that he was
speculating on something beyond the bounds of possibility), a pleasure
thus extorted would become for him a nameless torment. Casanova
knew himself to be one whose rapture in a love relationship was a
thousandfold greater when conferring pleasure than when receiving it.
Such a victory as he was contemplating would drive him to frenzy and
despair.

Suddenly he found himself at the door in the garden wall. It was locked.
Then Lorenzi had a master-key! But who, it now occurred to him to ask,
had ridden the horse he had heard trotting away after Lorenzi had left
the card table? A servant in waiting for the purpose, obviously.

Involuntarily Casanova smiled his approval. They were worthy of one
another, these two, Marcolina and Lorenzi, the woman philosopher and the
officer. A splendid career lay before them.

"Who will be Marcolina's next lover?" he thought questioningly. "The
professor in Bologna in whose house she lives? Fool, fool! That is
doubtless an old story. Who next? Olivo? The Abbate? Wherefore not? Or
the serving-lad who stood gaping at the door yesterday when we drove up?
She has given herself to all of them. I am sure of it. But Lorenzi does
not know. I have stolen a march on him there."

Yet all the while he was inwardly convinced that Lorenzi was Marcolina's
first lover. Nay, he even suspected that the previous night was the
first on which she had given herself to Lorenzi. Nevertheless, as he
made the circuit in the garden within the wall, he continued to indulge
these spiteful, lascivious fantasies.

At length he reached the hall door, which he had left open. He must
regain the turret chamber unseen and unheard. With all possible caution
he crept upstairs, and sank into the armchair