it seemed as if this extraordinary existence into which she had been
plunged were all a feverish dream. Hither, to the absurd little solle de
reunion of the Franco-Belgian Hall came notables from the great world,
emissaries from an uneasy Governor, delegations from the Legislature,
Members of the Congress of the United States and even Senators; students,
investigators, men and women of prominence in the universities, magazine
writers to consult with uncouth leaders of a rebellion that defied and
upset the powers which hitherto had so serenely ruled, unchallenged.
Rolfe identified these visitors, and one morning called her attention to
one who he said was the nation's foremost authority on social science.
Janet possessed all unconsciously the New England reverence for learning,
she was stirred by the sight of this distinguished-looking person who sat
on the painted stage, fingering his glasses and talking to Antonelli. The
two men made a curious contrast. But her days were full of contrasts of
which her mood exultingly approved. The politicians were received
cavalierly. Toward these, who sought to act as go-betweens in the
conflict, Antonelli was contemptuous; he behaved like the general of a
conquering army, and his audacity was reflected in the other leaders, in
Rolfe, in the Committee itself.

That Committee, a never-ending source of wonder to Janet, with its nine
or ten nationalities and interpreters, was indeed a triumph over the
obstacles of race and language, a Babel made successful; in a community
of Anglo-Saxon traditions, an amazing anomaly. The habiliments of the
west, the sack coats and sweaters, the slouch hats and caps, the
so-called Derbies pulled down over dark brows and flashing eyes lent to
these peasant types an incongruity that had the air of ferocity. The
faces of most of them were covered with a blue-black stubble of beard.
Some slouched in their chairs, others stood and talked in groups,
gesticulating with cigars and pipes; yet a keen spectator, after watching