The Abbate nodded, and smiled, well-pleased. Then, with a sly expression, he came quite close to Casanova, as if about to tell him a secret. But he spoke out loud.
“As for you, Signor Casanova, you were with a wedding party. I don’t know whether you were one of the ordinary guests or whether you were best man, but I remember that the bride looked at you far more languishingly than at the bridegroom. The wind rose; there was half a gale; you began to read a risky poem.”
“No doubt the Chevalier only did so in order to lay the storm,” said Marcolina.
“I never claim the powers of a wizard,” rejoined Casanova. “But I will not deny that after I had begun to read, no one bothered about the storm.” The three girls had encircled the Abbate. For an excellent reason. From his capacious pockets he produced quantities of luscious sweets, and popped them into the children’s mouths with his stumpy fingers. Meanwhile Olivo gave the newcomer a circumstantial account of the rediscovery of Casanova. Dreamily Amalia continued to gaze at the beloved guest’s masterful brown forehead.
The 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.