For three
days they diligently composed and wrote, and in that period fabricated
no less than six or seven hundred letters. These far from filled the
portfolio, but the queen packed other things into it, and then locked
and sealed it, so that no change in its appearance could be perceived.
This done, it was restored to its place.
We must hasten over what followed. On the king's return his first
greeting to his wife was, "Your good-for-nothing son is dead." He
immediately demanded the portfolio, tore it open, and carried away the
letters which had been so recently concocted. In a few minutes he
returned, and on seeing his daughter broke out into a fury of rage, his
eyes glaring, his mouth foaming.
"Infamous wretch!" he shouted; "dare you appear in my presence? Go keep
your scoundrel of a brother company."
He seized her as he spoke and struck her several times violently in the
face, one blow on the temple hurling her to the floor. Mad with rage, he
would have trampled on her had not the ladies present got her away. The
scene was a frightful one.
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