e 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 co