tribunals of the
State, and they decreed that the comedy was to be repeated on the night
of the 17th. An officer of the Council of Ten received orders to attend
Mme. Ricci to the theatre on that occasion, and see that she performed
her duty.

Thus Gratarol's unworthy stratagem made matters infinitely worse for us.
I only discovered at a later date that he was seeking to gain time for
dark and treacherous machinations against my person.

On the 15th of January I found myself, as usual, at S. Salvatore,
expecting one of those old-fashioned improvised comedies which never
fail to divert me. My excellent friend, Signor Carlo Maffei, stepped up,
and begged for a few moments' serious conversation. I assented; we
entered his box; he carefully secured the door, and made the following
communication. But before proceeding to relate what passed between us, I
must describe a few traits of this worthy gentleman's character. He is
the very soul of honour, scrupulously upright in all his dealings,
incapable of trickery or meanness, but gifted with such tenderness of
heart and sensibility that he sometimes falls into mistakes of judgment
about people who are not distinguished by his own sterling qualities.
Signor Maffei only erred in admiring me and my writings beyond their
merits. Yet he lived a very different life from mine. He was a prominent
member of that society which is called _bon ton_ and _the great world_
at Venice. Partaking freely of its amusements, he had formed an intimacy
with Signor Gratarol. Indeed, he must have known that gentleman several
years before he became my friend. This accounts for the proposal which I
shall now report.

"Gratarol's misfortunes," he began, "have made a deep and painful
impression on my feelings. He came a little while ago to visit me, and
literally drew tears from my eyes. He is in a state bordering on
distraction. What he came to ask was whether I could undertake to
arrange a conference between you and him apropos of that unfortunate
comedy. It is indifferent to him whether we meet at my house or at
yours."

When I heard this, I felt sure that some scorpion must be concealed
beneath so tardy an attempt at reconciliation. I told Maffei so, and
asked why Gratarol had not sought me out at the commencement, when Mme.
Ricci was pouring her insidious venom into his ears. Now it was too late
to do any good. I had lost the last thread of authority over my play.
The Supreme Tribunal had taken c