“But Casanova was a marvellous necromancer, an extraordinary gambler.”

“I know no more enthusiastic gambler than Mike.  Have you ever seen him play whist?  At Boulogne he cleaned them all out at baccarat.”

“And lost heavily next day, and left without paying.”

“The facts of the case have not been satisfactorily established.  Have you seen him do tricks with cards?  He used to be very fond of card tricks; and, by Jove! now I remember, there was a time when ladies came to consult him.  He had two pieces of paper folded up in the same way.  He gave one to the lady to write her question on; she placed it in a cleft stick and burnt it in a lamp; but the stick was cleft at both ends, and Mike managed it so that she burnt the blank sheet, while he read what she had written.  Very trivial; inferior of course to Casanova’s immense cabalistic frauds, but it bears out my contention ...  Have you ever read the Memoirs? What a prodigious book!  Do you remember when the Duchesse de Chartres comes to consult the cabale in the little apartment in the Palais Royal as to the best means of getting rid of the pimples on her face? ... and that scene (so exactly like something Wycherley might have written) when he meets the rich farmer’s daughter travelling about with her old uncle, the priest?”

Mike was talking to Alice Barton, who was chaperoning Lily.  Though she knew nothing of his character she had drawn back instinctively, but her strictness was gradually annealed in his persuasiveness, and when he rose to go out of the room with Lily, she was astonished that she had pleasure in his society.

Lily was more beautiful than usual, the heat and the pleasure of seeing her admirer having flushed her cheeks.  He was penetrated with her sweetness, and the hand laid on his arm thrilled him.  Where should he take her?  Unfortunately the staircase was in stone; servants were busy in the drawing-room.

“How beautifully Mr. Escott plays the violin!”

The melodious strain reeked through the doorways, filling the passage.

“That is Stradella’s ‘Chanson d’Eglise.’  He always plays it; I’m sick of it.”

“Yes, but I’m not.  Do not let us go far, I should like to listen.”

“I thought you would have preferred to talk with me.”

Her manner did not encourage him to repeat his words, and he waited, uncertain what he should say or do.  When the piece was over, he said—­

“We had to turn my bedroom into a retiring-room.  I’m afraid we shall not be alone.”

“That does not matter; my mother does not approve of young girls sitting out dances.”

“But your mother isn’t here.”

“I should not think of doing anything I knew she did not wish me to do.”