The sun was near to setting.

A gentle breeze made the yellow ears rustle; the tower of Olivo's house glowed red in the evening light.

Lorenzi, too, halted.

His pale face was motionless, as he gazed into vacancy over Casanova's shoulder.

His arms hung limp by his sides, whereas Casanova's hand, ready for any emergency, rested as if by chance upon the hilt of his sword.