They never mentioned the royal couple except in terms of respect--with all their apparent confidence, they distrusted each other. They felt that there was trouble ahead, but that it was best for them to appear unconscious of it.
Countess Brinkenstein was the only one Who had a good word to say for Irma.
"Her father was greatly to blame," said she; "it was he who instilled this belief in Irma."
"And yet he had her educated at the convent."
"But she inherited from him a contempt for all forms and traditions, and that was her misfortune. She had a lovely disposition, was richly endowed by nature, and her heart was free from the slightest trace of envy or ill-nature."
No one ventured to contradict Countess Brinkenstein; Perhaps, thought they, etiquette requires us to speak well of Irma and to forget her terrible deed.
"Who knows whether her brother would have married the Steigeneck, if he had known that he was to inherit everything!" softly whispered a delicate and languishing little lady to her neighbor, while she bent over her wool-basket.
The one whom she had addressed looked at her with a sad, yet grateful expression. She had once loved Count Bruno, and still loved him.
"I have a book of hers."
"And I have one of her drawings."