He thought of the two suits, the shabbier of which he was wearing at that moment; of the much darned, though once elegant, underlinen.

With two or three snuffboxes, a gold watch and chain, and a few books, these comprised his whole worldly wealth.

He called to mind past splendors, when he had travelled as a man of distinction, driving in a fine carriage; when he had been well furnished both with necessaries and with superfluities; when he had even had his own servingman--who had usually, of course, been a rogue.

These memories brought impotent anger in their train, and his eyes filled with tears.
A young woman drove towards him, whip in hand.

In her little cart, amid sacks and various odds and ends, lay her husband, drunk and snoring.
Casanova strode by beneath the chestnut trees that lined the highway, his face working with wrath, unintelligible phrases hissing from between his clenched teeth.