“Really?”
“Not one,” asserted Lorenzi, as if tired of the whole matter.
“Never mind,” said the Marchese, with a sudden assumption of amiability which was far from congenial. “I will trust you as far as ten ducats goes, or even for a larger sum if needs must.”
“All right, a ducat, then,” said Lorenzi, taking up the card dealt to him.
The Marchese won. Lorenzi went on with the game, as if this were now a matter of course, and was soon in the Marchese’s debt to the amount of one hundred ducats.
At this stage Casanova became banker, and had even better luck than the Marchese. There remained only three players. To-day the brothers Ricardi stood aside without complaint. Olivo and the Abbate were merely interested onlookers.
No one uttered a syllable. Only the cards spoke, and they spoke in unmistakable terms. By the hazard of fortune all the cash found its way to Casanova. In an hour he had won two thousand ducats; he had won them from Lorenzi, though they came out of the pockets of the Marchese, who at length sat there without a soldo.
Casanova offered him whatever gold pieces he might need. The Marchese shook his head. “Thanks,” he said, “I have had enough. The game is over as far as I am concerned.”
From the garden came the laughing voices of the girls. Casanova heard Teresina’s voice in particular, but he was sitting with his back to the window and did not turn round. He tried once more to persuade the Marchese to resume the game—for the sake of Lorenzi, though he hardly knew what moved him. The Marchese refused with a yet more decisive headshake.
Lorenzi rose, saying: “I shall have the honor, Signor Marchese, of handing the amount I owe you to you personally, before noon to-morrow.”