With a start I came to my senses and bestowed a pinch on myself. This
was neither the time nor the place to sentimentalize over a girlish
beauty whose small, Parisian head was crammed full of foolish, brave
theories concerning an imposition which her aged sovereign had been
unable to detect.

I saw the gathering frown on the King of Finland's dark face; I saw
Sir Peter Grebe grow redder and redder, and press his thick lips
together to control the angry "Bosh!" which need not have been uttered
to have been understood. The Baron de Becasse wore a painfully neutral
smile, which froze his face into a quaint gargoyle; the Crown-Prince
of Monaco looked at his polished fingernails with a startled yet
abstracted resignation. Clearly the young Countess had not a
sympathizer in the committee.

Something--perhaps it was the latent chivalry which exists imbedded in
us all, perhaps it was pity, perhaps a glimmering dawn of belief in
the ux skin--set my thoughts working very quickly.

The Countess d'Alzette finished her notes, then glanced around with a
deprecating smile, which died out on her lips when she perceived the
silent and stony hostility of her fellow-scientists. A quick
expression of alarm came into her lovely eyes. Would they vote against
giving her a hearing before the congress? It required a unanimous vote
to reject a subject. She turned her eyes on me.

I rose, red as fire, my head humming with a chaos of ideas all
disordered and vague, yet whirling along in a single, resistless
current. I had come to the congress prepared to deliver a monograph on