"
"And whatever Signor Lorenzi may have done," said Casanova, "you, Signor
Marchese, are the greater rascal of the two."
"I hope so," replied the Marchese. "When anyone is as old as we
are, Chevalier de Seingalt, assuredly he should not need lessons in
rascality. Good-evening, gentlemen."
He rose to his feet. No one responded to his farewell, and he went out.
For a space the silence was so intense, that once again the girls'
laughter was heard from the garden, now seeming unduly loud.
Who would have ventured to utter the word that was searing Lorenzi's
soul, as he stood at the table with his arm still raised? Casanova, the
only one of the company who had remained seated, derived an involuntary
artistic pleasure from the contemplation of this fine, threatening
gesture, meaningless now, but seemingly petrified, as if the young man
had been transformed into a statue.
At length Olivo turned to him with a soothing air; the Ricardis, too,
drew near; and the Abbate appeared to be working himself up for a
speech. But a sort of shiver passed over Lorenzi's frame. Automatically
but insistently he silently indicated his rejection of any offers at
intervention.
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