A devotional mood, a spirit of self-sacrifice knowing nothing of desire, seemed to take possession of his soul.

Discreetly, in a respectful tone such as at that day was customary towards persons of rank, in a manner which she could not but regard as flattering, he enquired whether it was her purpose to resume her studies that evening.
She answered that in the country her work was somewhat irregular.
Nevertheless, even during free hours, mathematical problems upon which she had recently been pondering, would at times invade her mind unawares.

This had just happened while she was lying on the greensward gazing up into the sky.
Casanova, emboldened by the friendliness of her demeanor, asked jestingly what was the nature of this lofty, urgent problem.

She replied, in much the same tone, that it had nothing whatever to do with the Cabala, with which, so rumor ran, the Chevalier de Seingalt worked wonders.

He would therefore not know what to make of her problem.
Casanova was piqued that she should speak of the Cabala with such unconcealed contempt.