KING (looks through it eagerly).
A letter
From the emperor, my father. How I a letter
Of which I ne'er remember to have heard.
[He reads it through, puts it aside, and goes
to the other papers.
A drawing of some fortress—detached thoughts
From Tacitus—and what is here? The hand
I surely recognize—it is a lady's.
[He reads it attentively, partly to himself,
and partly aloud.
"This key—the farthest chamber of the queen's
Pavilion!" Ha! what's this? "The voice of love,—
The timid lover—may—a rich reward."
Satanic treachery! I see it now.
'Tis she—'tis her own writing!
MARQUIS.
The queen's writing!
Impossible!
KING.
The Princess Eboli's.
MARQUIS.
Then, it was true, what the queen's page confessed,
Not long since—that he brought this key and letter.
KING (grasping the MARQUIS' hand in great emotion).
Marquis! I see that I'm in dreadful hands.
This woman—I confess it—'twas this woman
Forced the queen's casket: and my first suspicions
Were breathed by her. Who knows how deep the priest
May be engaged in this? I am deceived
By cursed villany.
MARQUIS.
Then it was lucky——