Casanova suddenly became aware of a feeling of compassion for Lorenzi, a feeling he was puzzled to account for. But he believed himself to be endowed with second-sight, and he had a premonition that the Lieutenant would fall in his first encounter. The Marchese did not accept the suggestion of high stakes, nor did Lorenzi insist. They resumed the game, therefore, much as on the previous night, everyone taking a hand at first, and only moderate sums being ventured. A quarter of an hour later, however, the stakes began to rise, and ere long Lorenzi had lost his four hundred ducats to the Marchese. Casanova had no constancy either in luck or ill-luck. He won, lost, and won again, in an almost ludicrously regular alternation. Lorenzi drew a breath of relief when his last gold piece had gone the way of the others. Rising from the table, he said: “I thank you, gentlemen. This,” he hesitated for a moment, “this will prove to have been my last game for a long time in your hospitable house. If you will allow me, Signor Olivo, I will take leave of the ladies before riding into town. I must reach Mantua ere nightfall in order to make preparations for to-morrow.” “Shameless liar,” thought Casanova. “You will return here to-night, to Marcolina’s arms!” Rage flamed up in him anew. “What!” exclaimed the Marchese maliciously. “The evening will not come for hours. Is the game to stop so early? If you like, Lorenzi, my coachman shall drive home with a message to the Marchesa to let her know that you will be late.” “I am going to ride to Mantua,” rejoined Lorenzi impatiently. The Marchese, ignoring this statement, went on: “There is still plenty of time. Put up some of your own money, if it be but a single gold piece.” He dealt Lorenzi a card. “I have not a single gold piece left,” said Lorenzi wearily. “Really?” “Not one,” asserted Lorenzi, as if tired of the whole matter. “Never mind,” said the Marchese, with a sudden assumption of amiability which was far from congenial. “I will trust you as far as ten ducats goes, or even for a larger sum if needs must.” “All right, a ducat, then,” said Lorenzi, taking up the card dealt to him. The Marchese won. Lorenzi went on with the game, as if this were now a matter of course, and was soon in the Marchese’s debt to the amount of one hundred ducats. At this stage Casanova became banker, and had even better luck than the Marchese. There remained only three players. To-day the brothers Ricardi stood aside without complaint. Olivo and the Abbate were merely interested onlookers. No one uttered a syllable. Only the cards spoke, and they spoke in unmistakable terms. By the hazard of fortune all the cash found its way to Casanova. In an hour he had won two thousand ducats; he had won them from Lorenzi, though they came out of the pockets of the Marchese, who at length sat there without a soldo.