“Steinbach,” she said at last, “tell me the truth. What do the people think of me? You are a commoner and live among them. I, imprisoned at Court, unfortunately, know nothing. The opinions of the people never reach us.”
“The people, your Highness, love you. They call you ‘their Claire.’ You surely know how, when you drive out, they raise their hats and shout in acclamation.”
“Yes,” she said in a low, mechanical voice, “but is it real enthusiasm? Would they really love me if I were Queen?”
“Your Highness is at this moment the most popular woman in the whole kingdom of Marburg. If it were known that this plot was in progress there would in all probability be a revolution. Stuhlmann and his friends are hated everywhere, and their overthrow would cause universal satisfaction.”
“And the people do not really think ill of me?”
“Think ill of you, Princess?” he echoed. “Why, they literally worship you and the little Princess Ignatia.”
She was silent again, walking very slowly, and reflecting deeply. It was so seldom she had opportunity of speaking with one of the people unless he were a deputy or a diplomatist, who then put on all his Court manners, was unnatural, and feared to speak. From the man beside her, however, she saw she might learn the truth of a matter which was ever uppermost in her mind. And yet she hesitated to approach what was, after all, a very delicate subject.
Suddenly, with her mind made up, she halted, and turning to him, said,—
“Steinbach, I want you to answer me truthfully. Do not evade the question for fear of annoying me. Speak openly, as the friend you are to me. I wish to know one thing,” and she lowered her voice until it almost faltered. “Have you heard a—well, a scandal concerning myself?”
He made no answer.