Casanova resumed his narrative where it had been interrupted, resumed it as if this Mantua affair concerned him just as little as it concerned the rest of the company.

In fact, being now freed from a disquiet whose existence he had hardly been willing to admit even to himself, his manner became brighter and bolder than ever.
It was past midnight when, after a light-hearted farewell, he walked alone across the wide, empty square.

The heavens were veiled in luminous mist.

He moved with the confident step of a sleep-walker.

Without being really conscious that he was on a path which he had not traversed for five-and-twenty years, he found the way through tortuous alleys, between dark houses, and over narrow bridges.