" He drew
his sword.
Casanova shrugged. "Just as you please, Lorenzi. But you might at least
remember that I shall be reluctantly compelled to appear in a very
inappropriate costume." He threw open the cloak and stood there nude,
playing with the sword in his hand.
Hate welled up in Lorenzi's eyes. "You shall not be at any
disadvantage," he said, and began to strip with all possible speed.
Casanova turned away, and for the moment wrapped himself in his cloak
once more, for though the sun was already piercing the morning mists,
the air was chill. Long shadows lay across the fields, cast by the
sparse trees on the hill-top. For an instant Casanova wondered whether
someone might not come down the path. Doubtless it was used only by
Olivo and the members of his household. It occurred to Casanova that
these were perhaps the last minutes of his life, and he was amazed at
his own calmness.
"M. Voltaire is a lucky fellow," came as a passing thought. But in truth
he had no interest in Voltaire, and he would have been glad at this
supreme moment to have been able to call up pleasanter images than that
of the old author's vulturine physiognomy.
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