Casanova thrilled. "Neither my lips nor my hands are yours to kiss.
Your waiting for me and your dreams of me will prove to have been
vain--unless I should first make Marcolina mine."
"Are you mad, Casanova?" exclaimed Amalia, with distress in her voice.
"If I am, we are both on the same footing," replied Casanova. "You are
mad because in me, an old man, you think that you can rediscover the
beloved of your youth; I am mad because I have taken it into my head
that I wish to possess Marcolina. But perhaps we shall both be
restored to reason. Marcolina shall restore me to youth--for you. So
help me to my wishes, Amalia!"
"You are really beside yourself, Casanova. What you ask is impossible.
She will have nothing to do with any man."
Casanova laughed. "What about Lieutenant Lorenzi?"
"Lorenzi? What do you mean?"
"He is her lover. I am sure of it."
"You are utterly mistaken. He asked for her hand, and she rejected his
proposal. Yet he is young and handsome. I almost think him handsomer
than you ever were, Casanova!"
"He was a suitor for her hand?"
"Ask Olivo if you don't believe me."
"Well, what do I care about that? What care I whether she be virgin or
strumpet, wife or widow--I want to make her mine!"
"I can't give her to you, my friend!" Amalia's voice expressed genuine
concern.
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