It is only perhaps.

Now mount, for de Markgrafin says you are our good guests.' We mounted simply to show that we could mount, for we would rather have been on foot, and drew up close to the right of the margravine's carriage.
'Hush! a poet is reading his ode,' said the princess.

'It is Count Fretzel von Wolfenstein.' This ode was dreadful to us, and all the Court people pretended they liked it.

When he waved his right hand toward the statue there was a shout from the rustic set; when he bowed to the margravine, the ladies and gentlemen murmured agreeably and smiled.

We were convinced of its being downright hypocrisy, rustic stupidity, Court flattery.