“But the army—”
“They do not trust the army.”
Karl’s face was grave. Something of the trouble in Livonia he had known. But this argued an immediate crisis.
“On the King’s death,” the Countess said, “a republic will be declared. The Republic of Livonia! The Crown Prince will never reign.”
She shivered, but Karl was absorbed in the situation.
“Incredible!” he commented. “These fears are sometimes hysterias, but what you say of the preparations for flight—I thought the boy was very popular.”
“With some. But when has a child stood between the mob and the thing it wants? And the thing they cry for is liberty. Down with the royal house! Down with the aristocracy!”
She was calm enough now. Karl was listening, was considering, looked uneasy. She had been right. He was not for acquiring trouble, even by marriage.
But, if she had read Karl, he also knew her. In all the years he had known her she had never been reckless. Daring enough, but with a calculating daring that took no chances. And yet she had done a reckless thing by coming to him. From under lowered eyelids he considered her. Why had she done it? The situation was serious enough, but even then— “So you came to-day to tell me this?”
She glanced up, and catching his eyes, colored faintly. “These are things you should know.”