ables. Am I not a god? Are we not both gods? If anyone could see us
now. There are women who would pay a high price for the spectacle!"

The blades bent, the points sparkled; at each contact the rapiers sang
softly in the morning air. "A fight? No, a fencing match! Why this look
of horror, Marcolina? Are we not both worthy of your love? He is but a
youngster; I am Casanova!"

Lorenzi sank to the ground, thrust through the heart. The sword fell
from his grip. He opened his eyes wide, as if in utter astonishment.
Once he raised his head for a moment, while his lips were fixed in a wry
smile. Then the head fell back again, his nostrils dilated, there was a
slight rattling in his throat, and he was dead.

Casanova bent over him, kneeled beside the body, saw a few drops of
blood ooze from the wound, held his hand in front of Lorenzi's
mouth--but the breath was stilled. A cold shiver passed through
Casanova's frame. He rose and put on his cloak. Then, returning to the
body, he glanced at the fallen youth, lying stark on the turf in
incomparable beauty. The silence was broken by a soft rustling, as the
morning breeze stirred the tree-tops.

"What shall I do?" Casanova asked himself. "Shall I summon aid? Olivo?
Amalia? Marcolina? To what purpose? No one can bring him back to life."

He pondered with the calmness invariable to him in the most dangerous
moments of his career. "It may be hours before anyone finds him; perhaps
no one will come by before evening; perchance later still. That will
give me time, and time is of the first importance."

He was still holding his sword. Noticing that it was bloody, he wiped it
on the grass. He thought for a moment of dressing the corpse, but to do
this would have involved the loss of precious and irrecoverable minutes.
Paying the last duties, he bent once more and closed Lorenzi's eyes.
"Lucky fellow," he murmured; and then, dreamily, he kissed the dead
man's forehead.

He strode along beside the wall, turned the angle, and regained the
road. The carriage was where he had left it, the coachman fast asleep
on the box. Casanova was careful to avoid waking the man at first. Not
until he had cautiously taken his seat did he call out: "Hullo, drive
on, can't you?" and prodded him in the back. The startled coachman
looked round, greatly astonished to find that it was broad daylight.
Then he whipped up his horse and drove off.

Casanova sat far back in the carriage, wrapped in the cloak wh