Otherwise the glimmer in the sky sufficed them.

The dark crests of the trees limited the outlook; Casanova was reminded of the eerie garden in which, late one evening many years before, he had awaited the coming of his mistress.
"Murano!" he whispered to himself, and trembled.

Then he spoke aloud: "On an island near Venice there is a convent garden where I last set foot several decades ago.

At night, there, the scent is just like this." "Were you ever a monk ?" asked the Marchesa, sportively.
"All but," replied Casanova with a smile, explaining, truthfully enough, that when he was a lad of fifteen he had been given minor orders by the archbishop of Venice, but that before attaining full manhood he had decided to lay aside the cassock.
The Abbate mentioned that there was a nunnery close at hand, and strongly recommended Casanova to visit the place if he had never seen it.

Olivo heartily endorsed the recommendation, singing the praises of the picturesque old building, the situation, and the diversified beauties of the approach.
"The Lady Abbess, Sister Serafina," continued the Abbate, "is an extremely learned woman, a duchess by birth.