“You know perfectly well,” rejoined Lorenzi imperturbably, “that I shall ride straight to Mantua, and not to your place, to which you were so good as to invite me yesterday.”
“You can ride to bell for all I care!” said the other.
Lorenzi politely took his leave of the rest of the company, and, to Casanova’s astonishment, departed without making any suitable retort to the Marchese.
Casanova went on with the game, still winning, so that the Marchese ere long was several hundred ducats in his debt. “What’s the use of it all?” thought Casanova at first. But by degrees he was once more ensnared by the lure of the gaming table. “After all,” he mused, “this is a lucky turn of fortune. I shall soon be a thousand to the good, perhaps even two thousand. The Marchese will not fail to pay his debt. It would be pleasant to take a modest competence with me to Venice. But why Venice? Who regains wealth, regains youth. Wealth is everything. At any rate, I shall now be able to buy her. Whom? The only woman I want.... She is standing naked at the window.... I am sure she is waiting there, expecting me to come.... She is standing at the window to drive me mad!”
All the same, with unruffled brow he continued dealing the cards, not only to the Marchese, but also to Olivo and to the brothers Ricardi. To the latter from time to time he pushed over a gold piece to which they had no claim, but which they accepted without comment. The noise of a trotting horse came from the road. “Lorenzi,” thought Casanova. The hoofbeats echoed for a time from the garden wall, until sound and echo gradually died away.
At length Casanova’s luck turned. The Marchese staked more and more boldly. By midnight Casanova was as poor as at the beginning; nay, poorer, for he had lost the few ducats with which he had made his first venture. Pushing the cards away, he stood up with a smile, saying: “Thank you, gentlemen, for a pleasant game.”
Olivo stretched out both hands towards Casanova. “Dear friend, let us go on with the game..... You have a hundred and fifty ducats. Have you forgotten them? Not only a hundred and fifty ducats, but all that I have, everything, everything.” His speech was thick, for he had been drinking throughout the evening.
Casanova signified his refusal with an exaggerated but courtly gesture. “Luck and women cannot be constrained,” he said, bowing towards the Abbate, who nodded contentedly and clapped his hands.
“Till to-morrow, then, my dear Chevalier,” said the Marchese. “We will join forces to win the money back from Lieutenant Lorenzi.”
The brothers Ricardi insistently demanded that the game should continue. The Marchese, who was in a jovial mood, opened a bank for them. They staked the gold pieces which Casanova had allowed them to win. In a couple of minutes they had lost them all to the Marchese, who declined to go on playing unless they could produce cash. They wrung their hands. The elder began to cry like a child. The younger, to comfort his brother, kissed him on both cheeks. The Marchese enquired whether the carriage had returned, and the Abbate said he had heard it drive up half an hour earlier. Thereupon the Marchese offered the Abbate and the two Ricardis a lift, promising to set them down at their doors. All four left the house together.