“You despise me,” cried Wilhelmina, bursting into tears.
“I think I am justified in doing so,” said he, coldly. “Stand up, and give me the key.”
She rose and staggered to the table. “Here is the key.”
The prince opened the secretary. “Where are the letters, madame?”
“In the upper drawer to the left.”
“Ah,” said lie with a rude laugh, “not even in a secret compartment have you guarded these precious letters. You were so sure of my blind confidence in you that you did not even conceal your jewels.”
Princess Wilhelmina did not answer, but as the prince read one after the other of the letters, she sank again upon her knees. “My God, my God!” murmured she, “have pity upon me! Send Thy lightning and crush me. Oh, my God! why will not the earth cover me and hide me from his glance!”
Rivers of tears burst from her eyes, and raising her arms to heaven, she uttered prayers of anguish and repentance.
The prince read on, on, in these unholy letters. Once he exclaimed aloud, and rushed with the letter to the princess.
“Is this true?” said he—“is this which you have written, true?”