he had done with it he expected to have it in his hands
again. In fact, not wishing to be proved a liar in this matter, I took
the play to the lady I have mentioned, related the whole story about
Gratarol and Ricci, and recommended myself to her protection." Sacchi
could not have taken any step more calculated to give importance to
this incident. I said as much to him upon the spot; predicted that the
lady, who was known to have a grudge against Signor Gratarol, would do
her best to circulate the scandal; assured him that the whole town would
blaze with rumour, that I should be discredited, and that he might find
himself in a very awkward position. "The tribunals of the State," I
added, "are not to be trifled with by any of your circumventions."

Signor Gratarol had made a great mistake. Instead of listening to the
gossip of an actress, and then setting the machinery of the State in
motion by private appeals to persons of importance, he ought to have
come at once to me. I should have assured him of the simple truth, and
the _Droghe d'Amore_ would have appeared without doing any dishonour to
either of us.

His manoeuvring had the effect of putting all Venice upon the _qui
vive_, and placing an instrument of retaliation against him in the hands
of powerful enemies. The noble lady, Caterina Dolfin Tron, to whom
Sacchi took my comedy, read it through, and read it to her friends, and
passed it about among a clique of high-born gentlemen and ladies. None
of them found any mark of personal satire in the piece. All of them
condemned Gratarol for his self-consciousness, and accused him of
seeking to deprive the public of a rational diversion, while moving
heaven and earth to reverse the decision of the censors of the State.

In two days the town buzzed of nothing but my wretched drama, Gratarol,
and me. It was rumoured that I had composed a sanguinary satire. Not
only Gratarol, but a crowd of gentlemen and ladies were to be brought
upon the scene. A whole theatre, with its pit, boxes, stage, and
purlieus could not have contained the multitude of my alleged victims.
Everybody knew their exact names and titles. Neighbours laid their heads
together, quarrelled, denied, maintained, argued, whispered in each
other's ears, waxed hot and angry, told impossible anecdotes,
contradicted their own words, and, what was most amusing, everybody drew
his information from an infallible source.

One thing they held for certain--that I had mad