She could not recall the journey thither, but could only remember having seen an old man wrapped in a scarlet cloak, disembarking from a long black boat.

He had stumbled and had fallen prone.
"Have you never been to Venice either ?" asked Casanova of Marcolina, who was seated facing him, so that she could see over his shoulder into the deep gloom of the garden.

She shook her head.

Casanova mused: "If I could but show you the city in which I passed my youth! Had you but been young with me!" Another thought, as foolish as both of these, crossed his mind: "Even now, if I could but take you there with me." While thus thinking, at the same time, with the ease of manner peculiar to him in moments of great excitement, he began to speak of his native city.

At first his language was cool; he used an artist's touch, as if painting a picture.