Tadeo obeyed; as he read, his hand visibly shook, and at last he dropped the paper, and sank upon his knees.
“I cannot deny it,” he said, in a troubled voice, “but let your majesty hear my justification. I implore permission to explain my conduct.”
The little lady who sat beside the King’s bed sprang to her feet, her countenance flaming with wrath, and rushed upon the kneeling man. Unbridled rage flashed from her eyes, and distorted each feature of her face.
“Traitor!” she cried, “where is the document? what have you done with it? You stole it, to deliver to men as vile and base as yourself! Traitor, produce it!”
“Madam!” exclaimed the astonished object of this furious apostrophe.
His remonstrance was cut short, for, quick as lightning, the ungovernable Infanta raised her hand, and let it fall upon his face with such vigour and good-will that the minister, unprepared for so unwomanly an assault, staggered backwards, and narrowly avoided a fall.
“Carlotta!” cried the Queen, seizing her sister’s arm, and restraining her from further violence.
“The villain! the traitor!” shrieked the Infanta, in tones that resounded through the palace.
“Away with him from my sight!” cried Ferdinand, his voice growing fainter as he spoke. “The Queen, whom I appoint Regent during my illness, will decide upon his fate. I myself strip him of all offices and honours. Away with him, and for ever! You are no longer my minister, Tadeo Calomarde. Oh, God! what a bitter deception! He too! He too! By all the saints, he shall rue it. His treachery is my death-stroke!”