numized bird skin, either
had no scientific reputation to lose or was possessed of a bravery far
above that of the savants who composed the audience.

Now, when the pretty Countess caught a flash of encouragement in my
glance she turned rosy with gratification and surprise. Clearly, she
had not expected to find a single ally in the entire congress. Her
quick smile of gratitude touched me, and made me ashamed, too, for I
had encouraged her out of the pure love of mischief, hoping to hear
the whole matter threshed before the congress and so have it settled
once for all. It was a thoughtless thing to do on my part. I should
have remembered the consequences to the Countess if it were proven
that she had been championing a fraud. The ruffled dignity of the
congress would never forgive her; her scientific career would
practically be at an end, because her theories and observations could
no longer command respect or even the attention of those who knew that
she herself had once been deceived by a palpable fraud.

I looked at her guiltily, already ashamed of myself for encouraging
her to her destruction. How lovely and innocent she appeared, standing
there reading her notes in a low, clear voice, fresh as a child's,
with now and then a delicious upward sweep of her long, dark lashes.

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