, and the drawer went bail for him. Well
pleased, I took my man to the boat, and having furnished it with a second
oar and two poles he went away, chuckling at having made a good bargain,
while I was as glad to have had the worst of it. I had been an hour away,
and on entering the casino found my dear M---- M---- in an agony, but as
soon as she saw my beaming face all the laughter came back on hers. I
took her to the convent, and then went to St. Francis, where the keeper
of the boathouse looked as if he thought me a fool, when I told him that
I had trucked away my boat for the one I had with me. I put on my mask,
and went forthwith to my lodging and to bed, for these annoyances had
been too much for me.

About this time my destiny made me acquainted with a nobleman called Mark
Antony Zorzi, a man of parts and famous for his skill in writing verses
in the Venetian dialect. Zorzi, who was very fond of the play, and
desired to offer a sacrifice to Thalia, wrote a comedy which the audience
took the liberty of hissing; but having persuaded himself that his piece
only failed through the conspiracies of the Abbe Chiari, who wrote for
the Theatre of St. Angelo, he declared open war against all the abbe's
plays.

I felt no reluctance whatever to visit M. Zorzi, for he possessed an
excellent cook and a charming wife. He knew that I did not care for
Chiari as an author, and M. Zorzi had in his pay people who, without
pity, rhyme, or reason, hissed all the compositions of the ecclesiastical
playwright. My part was to criticise them in hammer verses--a kind of
doggerel then much in fashion, and Zorzi took care to distribute my
lucubrations far and wide. These manoeuvres made me a powerful enemy in
the person of M. Condulmer, who liked me none the better for having all
the appearance of being in high favour with Madame Zorzi, to whom before
my appearance he had paid diligent court. This M. Condulmer was to be
excused for not caring for me, for, having a large share in the St.
Angelo Theatre, the failure of the abbe's pieces was a loss to him, as
the boxes had to be let at a very low rent, and all men are governed by
interested motives.

This M. Condulmer was sixty years old, but with all the greenness of
youth he was still fond of women, gaming, and money, and he was, in fact,
a money-lender, but he knew how to pass for a saint, as he took care to
go to mass every morning at St. Mark's, and never omitted to shed tears
before the