Besides, was not this mute, passionately sweet association the very
thing to bind Marcolina to him more firmly with each kiss that they
enjoyed? Would not the ineffable bliss of this night transmute into
truth what had been conceived in falsehood? His duped mistress, woman
of women, had she not already an inkling that it was not Lorenzi, the
stripling, but Casanova, the man, with whom she was mingling in these
divine ardors?
He began to deem it possible that he might be spared the so greatly
desired and 'yet so intensely dreaded moment of revelation. He fancied
that Marcolina, thrilling, entranced, transfigured, would spontaneously
whisper his name. Then, when she had forgiven him, he would take her
with him that very hour. Together they would leave the house in the grey
dawn; together they would seek the carriage that was waiting at the
turn of the road; together they would drive away. She would be his for
evermore. This would be the crown of his life; that at an age when
others were doomed to a sad senility, he, by the overwhelming might of
his unconquerable personality, would have won for himself the youngest,
the most beautiful, the most gifted of women.
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