E.

Someone was knocking at the door. Casanova awoke from a heavy sleep to
find Olivo standing before him.

"At your writing so early?"

Casanova promptly collected his wits. "It is my custom," he said, "to
work the first thing in the morning. What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," answered Olivo. "Breakfast is ready in the garden.
We will start on our drive to the nunnery as early as you please,
Chevalier. How the wind has blown your papers about!"

He stooped to pick up the fallen leaves. Casanova did not interfere. He
had moved to the window, and was looking down upon the breakfast table
which had been set on the greensward in the shade of the house. Amalia,
Marcolina, and the three young girls, dressed in white, were at
breakfast. They called up a good-morning. He had no eyes for anyone but
Marcolina, who smiled at him frankly and in the friendliest fashion.
In her lap was a plateful of early-ripe grapes, which she was eating
deliberately.

Contempt, anger, and hatred vanished from Casanova's heart. All he knew
was that he loved her. Made drunken by the very sight of her, he turned
away from the window to find Olivo on hands and knees still assembling
the scattered pages of manuscript from under the table and chest of
drawers. "Don't trouble any further," he said to his host. "Leave me to
myself for a moment while I get ready for the drive."

"No hurry," answered Olivo, rising, and brushing the dust from his
knees. "We shall easily be home in time for dinner. We want to get back
early, anyhow, for the Marchese would like us to begin cards soon after
our meal. I suppose he wants to leave before sunset."

"It doesn't matter to me what time you begin cards," said Casanova, as
he arranged his manuscript in the portfolio. "Whatever happens, I shall
not take a hand in the game."

"Yes you will," explained Olivo with a decision foreign to his usual
manner. Laying a roll of gold pieces on the table, he continued: "Thus
do I pay my debt, Chevalier. A belated settlement, but it comes from a
grateful heart." Casanova made a gesture of refusal.

"I insist," said Olivo. "If you do not take the money, you will wound
us deeply. Besides, last night Amalia had a dream which will certainly
induce you--but I will let her tell the story herself." He turned and
left the room precipitately.

Casanova counted the money. Yes, there were one hundred and fifty gold
pieces, the very sum that fifteen years earlier he had presented