Octavio. And on no other ground hast thou refused
[[673]] The signature they fain had wrested from thee?

Max. It was a serious business——I was absent—
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me. 25

Octavio. Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no suspicion?

Max. Suspicion! what suspicion? Not the least.

Octavio. Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini:
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss.

Max. I know not what thou meanest.

Octavio. I will tell thee. 30
Fain would they have extorted from thee, son,
The sanction of thy name to villainy;
Yea, with a single flourish of thy pen,
Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honour!

Max (rises). Octavio!

Octavio. Patience! Seat yourself. Much yet [35]
Hast thou to hear from me, friend!—hast for years
Lived in incomprehensible illusion.
Before thine eyes is Treason drawing out
As black a web as e'er was spun for venom:
A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding. 40
I dare no longer stand in silence—dare
No longer see thee wandering on in darkness,
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes.

Max. My father!
Yet, ere thou speak'st, a moment's pause of thought!
If your disclosures should appear to be [45]
Conjectures only—and almost I fear
They will be nothing further—spare them! I
Am not in that collected mood at present,
That I could listen to them quietly.