"Have _you_ seen this alleged bird skin in the Antwerp Museum?" he
asked, perspiring with indignation.
"Yes, I have," said I. "It has been patched up, but how are we to know
that the skin did not require patching? I have not found that ostrich
skin has been used. It is true that the Tasmanians may have shot the
bird to pieces and mended the skin with bits of cassowary hide here
and there. But the greater part of the skin, and the beak and claws,
are, in my estimation, well worth the serious attention of savants. To
pronounce them fraudulent is, in my opinion, rash and premature."
I mopped my brow; I was in for it now. I had thrown in my reputation
with the reputation of the Countess.
The displeasure and astonishment of my confrères was unmistakable. In
the midst of a strained silence I moved that a vote be taken upon the
advisability of a hearing before the congress on the subject of the
ux. After a pause the young Countess, pale and determined, seconded my
motion. The result of the balloting was a foregone conclusion; the
Countess had one vote--she herself refraining from voting--and the
subject was entered on the committee-book as acceptable and a date set
for the hearing before the International Congress.
The effect of this vote on our little committee was most marked.
Constraint took the place of cordiality, polite reserve replaced that
guileless and open-hearted courtesy with which our proceedings had
begun.
With icy politeness, the Crown-Prince of Monaco asked me to state the
subject of the paper I proposed to read before the congress, and I
replied quietly that, as I was partly responsible for advocating the
discussion of the ux, I proposed to associate myself with the Countess
d'Alzette in that matter--if Madame la Comtesse would accept the offer
of a brother savant.
"Indeed I will," she said, impulsively, her blue eyes soft with
gratitude.
"Very well," observed Sir Peter Grebe, swallowing his indignation and
waddling off towards the door; "I shall resign my position on this
committee--yes, I will, I tell you!"--as the King of Finland laid a
fatherly hand on Sir Peter's sleeve--"I'll not be made responsible for
this damn--"
He choked, sputtered, then bowed to the horrified Countess, asking
pardon, and declaring that he yielded to nobody in respect for the
gentler sex. And he retired with the Baron de Becasse.
But out in the hallway I heard him explode. "Confound it! This is no
place for petticoats, Baron! And as for that Yankee ornithologist,
he's hung himself with the Countess's corset--string--yes, he has!
Don't tell me, Baron! The young idiot was all right until the Countess
looked at him, I tell you. Gad! how she crumpled him up with those
blue eyes of hers! What the devil do women come into such committees
for? Eh? It's an outrage, I tell you! Why, the whole world will jeer
at us if we sit and listen to her monograph on that fraudulent bird!"
The young Countess, who was writing near the window, could not have
heard this outburst; but I heard it, and so did King Christian and the
Crown-Prince of Monaco.
"Lord," thought I, "the Countess and I are in the frying-pan this
time. I'll do what I can to keep us both out of the fire."
When the King and the Crown-Prince had made their adieux to the
Countess, and she had responded, pale and serious, they came over to
where I was standing, looking out on the Seine.
"Though we must differ from you," said the King, kindly, "we wish you
all success in this dangerous undertaking."