He would therefore give the King the letter unopened, unless, believing it to be a love message from some foolish woman, he chose to tear it up unread.

The wretched jester knew that either would mean his own disgrace and death, and he quivered with agony from head to foot.
The lights moved up and down before his sight, the air grew heavier, the royal Spider took gigantic proportions, and its motionless eyes were lurid with evil It was about to turn to him; he felt it turning already, and knew that it saw him in his corner, and meant to draw him to it, very slowly.

In a moment he should fall to the floor a senseless heap, out of deadly fear--it would be well if his fear really killed him, but he could not even hope for that.

His hands gripped the hangings on each side of him as he shrank and crushed his deformity against the wall.
Surely the King was taming his head.

Yes--he was right.