"Perhaps," she said with a smile, "I may look in at Ferney on the way, in order to learn from Voltaire's own lips how he has been affected by the polemic of the Chevalier de Seingalt, his most formidable adversary." Casanova was walking with a hand on the side of the carriage, close to Marcolina's arm.

Her loose sleeve was touching his fingers.

He answered quietly: "It matters less what M.Voltaire thinks about the matter than what posterity thinks.

A final decision upon the merits of the controversy must be left to the next generation." "Do you really think," said Marcolina earnestly, "that final decisions can be reached in questions of this character ?" "I am surprised that you should ask such a thing, Marcolina.

Though your philosophic views, and (if the term be appropriate) your religious views, seem to me by no means irrefutable, at least they must be firmly established in your soul--if you believe that there is a soul." Marcolina, ignoring the personal animus in Casanova's words, sat looking skyward over the tree-crests, and tranquilly rejoined: "Ofttimes, and especially on a day like this"-- to Casanova, knowing what he knew, the words conveyed the thrill of reverence in the newly awakened heart of a woman--"I feel as if all that people speak of as philosophy and religion were no more than playing with words.