retti, Signor Raffaelle Todeschini, my nephew Francesco, son of
Gasparo, Signor Carlo Maffeo, Signor Michele Molinari, and an occasional
actor from Sacchi's troupe. Wanting occupation for my hours of solitude,
I took up the _Droghe d'Amore_, and went on working at it; always
against the grain, however, for the piece seemed to me to drag and to
want life. There is so much improbability in the plots of Spanish dramas
that all the arts of rhetoric and eloquence have to be employed in order
to convey an appearance of reality to the action. This tends to
prolixity, and I felt that my unfinished piece was particularly faulty
in that respect. It was divided into three acts, and I had brought the
dialogue down to the middle of the third. Little as I liked it, the
fancy took me to see what impression it would make upon an audience.
Accordingly, I read it aloud one evening to Teodora Ricci, my nephew,
Doctor Comparetti, and Signor Molinari. They were interested beyond my
expectation, and loudly opposed my intention of laying it aside. The
_prima donna_, in particular, urged me in the strongest terms to finish
what remained of it to do. The gentlemen I have just named can bear
witness to the sincerity of my coldness for this play, which afterwards,
by a succession of accidents, came to be regarded as a deliberate satire
on a single individual.

Some days after the reading, Signora Ricci asked me casually if I was
acquainted with Signor Piero Antonio Gratarol, secretary to the Senate.
I answered that I did not know him, which was the simple truth. I
added, however, that he had been pointed out to me on the piazza, and
that his outlandish air, gait, and costume struck me as very different
from what one would expect in a secretary to the grave Venetian Senate.
"Yet I have heard him spoken of as a man of ability and intelligence."
"He has a great respect for you," said she. "I am obliged to him for his
good opinion," I replied. "I think him a man of breeding," she went on,
"and I also think him a man of honour." "So far as I am concerned," I
answered, "I know nothing to the contrary, unless it be his unfortunate
notoriety for what is now called gallantry." There was no malice in thus
alluding to what was universally talked about, and had even come before
the judges of the State. I only intended to give a hint to my gossip,
which I soon discovered to be too late for any service. Having spoken, I
immediately sought to soften what I said