XII
At nine o'clock in the evening, July 31, 1900, the InternationalCongress was to assemble in the great lecture-hall of the BelgianScientific Pavilion, which adjourned the Tasmanian Pavilion, to hearthe Countess Suzanne d'Alzette read her paper on the ux.
That morning the Countess and I, with five furniture vans, hadtransported the five great incubators to the platform of thelecture-hall, and had engaged an army of plumbers and gas-fitters tomake the steam-heating connections necessary to maintain in theincubators a temperature of 100 deg. Fahrenheit.
A heavy green curtain hid the stage from the body of the lecture-hall.Behind this curtain the five enormous eggs reposed, each in itsincubator.
The Countess Suzanne was excited and calm by turns, her cheeks werepink, her lips scarlet, her eyes bright as blue planets at midnight.
Without faltering she rehearsed her discourse before me, reading fromher type-written manuscript in a clear voice, in which I couldscarcely discern a tremor. Then we went through the dumb show ofexhibiting the uxen eggs to a frantically applauding audience; sheresponded to countless supposititious encores, I leading her outrepeatedly before the green curtain to face the great, damp, darkenedauditorium.
Then, in response to repeated imaginary recalls, she rehearsed theextemporaneous speech, thanking the distinguished audience for theirpatience in listening to an unknown confrere, and confessing herobligations to me (here I appeared and bowed in self-abasement) for myfaith in her and my aid in securing for her a public hearing beforethe most highly educated audience in the world.
After that we retired behind the curtain to sit on an empty box andeat sandwiches and watch the last lingering plumbers pasting up thesteam connections with a pot of molten lead.
The plumbers were Americans, brought to Paris to make repairs on theAmerican buildings during the exposition, and we conversed with themaffably as they pottered about, plumber-like, poking under theflooring with lighted candles, rubbing their thumbs up and down mustyold pipes, and prying up planks in dark corners.
They informed us that they were union men and that they hoped we weretoo. And I replied that union was certainly my ultimate purpose, atwhich the young Countess smiled dreamily at vacancy.
We did not dare leave the incubators. The plumbers lingered on, hourafter hour, while we sat and watched the little silver thermometers,and waited.
It was time for the Countess Suzanne to dress, and still the plumbershad not finished; so I sent a messenger for her maid, to bring hertrunk to the lecture-hall, and I despatched another messenger to mylodgings for my evening clothes and fresh linen.
There were several dressing-rooms off the stage. Here, about sixo'clock, the Countess retired with her maid, to dress, leaving me towatch the plumbers and the thermometers.
When the Countess Suzanne returned, radiant and lovely in an eveninggown of black lace, I gave her the roses I had brought for her andhurried off to dress in my turn, leaving her to watch thethermometers.
I was not absent more than half an hour, but when I returned I foundthe Countess anxiously conversing with the plumbers and pointingdespairingly at the thermometers, which now registered only 95 deg..
"You must keep up the temperature!" I said. "Those eggs are due tohatch within a few hours. What's the trouble with the heat?"
The plumber did not know, but thought the connections were defective.
"But that's why we called you in!" exclaimed the Countess. "Can't youfix things securely?"
"Oh, we'll fix things, lady," replied the plumber, condescendingly,and he ambled away to rub his thumb up and down a pipe.
As we alone were unable to move and handle the enormous eggs, theCountess, whose sweet character was a stranger to vindictiveness orpetty resentment, had written to the members of the ornithologicalcommittee, revealing the marvellous fortune which had crowned herefforts in the search for evidence to sustain her theory concerningthe ux, and inviting these gentlemen to aid her in displaying thegreat eggs to the assembled congress.
This she had done the night previous. Every one of the gentlemeninvited had come post-haste to her "hotel," to view the eggs withtheir own sceptical and astonished eyes; and the fair young Countessand I tasted our first triumph in her cellar, whither we conducted SirPeter Grebe, the Crown-Prince of Monaco, Baron de Becasse, and hisMajesty King Christian of Finland.
Scepticism and incredulity gave place to excitement and unboundedenthusiasm. The old King embraced the Countess; Baron de Becasseattempted to kiss me; Sir Peter Grebe made a handsome apology for hisfolly and vowed that he would do open penance for his sins. The poorCrown-Prince, who was of a nervous temperament, sat on thecellar-stairs and wept like a child.
His grief at his own pig-headedness touched us all profoundly.
So it happened that these gentlemen were coming to-night to give theiraid to us in moving the priceless eggs, and lend their countenance andenthusiastic support to the young Countess in her maiden effort.
Sir Peter Grebe arrived first, all covered with orders anddecorations, and greeted us affectionately, calling the Countess the"sweetest lass in France," and me his undutiful Yankee cousin who hadlanded feet foremost at the expense of the British Empire.
The King of Finland, the Crown-Prince, and Baron de Becasse arrivedtogether, a composite mass of medals, sashes, and academy palms. Tosee them moving boxes about, straightening chairs, and pulling outrugs reminded me of those golden-embroidered gentlemen who run outinto the arena and roll up carpets after the acrobats have finishedtheir turn in the Nouveau Cirque.
I was aiding the King of Finland to move a heavy keg of nails, whenthe Countess called out to me in alarm, saying that the thermometershad dropped to 80 deg. Fahrenheit.
I spoke sharply to the plumbers, who were standing in a circle behindthe dressing-rooms; but they answered sullenly that they could do nomore work that day.
Indignant and alarmed, I ordered them to come out to the stage, and,after some hesitation, they filed out, a sulky, silent lot of workmen,with their tools already gathered up and tied in their kits. At once Inoticed that a new man had appeared among them--a red-faced, stockyman wearing a frock-coat and a shiny silk hat.
"Who is the master-workman here?" I asked.
"I am," said a man in blue overalls.
"Well," said I, "why don't you fix those steam-fittings?"
There was a silence. The man in the silk hat smirked.
"Well?" said I.
"Come, come, that's all right," said the man in the silk hat. "Thesemen know their business without you tellin' them."
"Who are you?" I demanded, sharply.
"Oh, I'm just a walkin' delegate," he replied, with a sneer. "There'sa strike in New York and I come over here to tie this here expositionup. See?"
"You mean to say you won't let these men finish their work?" I asked,thunderstruck.
"That's about it, young man," he said, coolly.
Furious, I glanced at my watch, then at the thermometers, which nowregistered only 75 deg.. Already I could hear the first-comers of theaudience arriving in the body of the hall. Already a stage-hand wasturning up the footlights and dragging chairs and tables hither andthither.
"What will you take to stay and attend to those steam-pipes?" Idemanded, desperately.
"It can't be done nohow," observed the man in the silk hat. "That NewYork strike is good for a month yet." Then, turning to the workmen, henodded and, to my horror, the whole gang filed out after him, turningdeaf ears to my entreaties and threats.
There was a deathly silence, then Sir Peter exploded into a vividshower of words. The Countess, pale as a ghost, gave me aheart-breaking look. The Crown-Prince wept.
"Great Heaven!" I cried; "the thermometers have fallen to 70 deg.!"
The King of Finland sat down on a chair and pressed his hands over hiseyes. Baron de Becasse ran round and round, uttering subdued andplaintive screams; Sir Peter swore steadily.
"Gentlemen," I cried, desperately, "we must save those
eggs! They areon the very eve of hatching! Who will volunteer?"
"To do what?" moaned the Crown-Prince.
"I'll show you," I exclaimed, running to the incubators and beckoningto the Baron to aid me.
In a moment we had rolled out the great egg, made a nest on the stagefloor with the bales of cotton-wool, and placed the egg in it. Oneafter another we rolled out the remaining eggs, building for each itsnest of cotton; and at last the five enormous eggs lay there in a rowbehind the green curtain.
"Now," said I, excitedly, to the King, "you must get up on that eggand try to keep it warm."
The King began to protest, but I would take no denial, and presentlyhis Majesty was perched up on the great egg, gazing foolishly about atthe others, who were now all climbing up on their allotted eggs.
"Great Heaven!" muttered the King, as Sir Peter settled downcomfortably on his egg, "I am willing to give life and fortune for thesake of science, but I can't bear to hatch out eggs like a bird!"
The Crown-Prince was now sitting patiently beside the Baron deBecasse.
"I feel in my bones," he murmured, "that I'm about to hatch something.Can't you hear a tapping on the shell of your egg, Baron?"
"Parbleu!" replied the Baron. "The shell is moving under me."
It certainly was; for, the next moment, the Baron fell into his eggwith a crash and a muffled shriek, and floundered out, dripping,yellow as a canary.
"N'importe!" he cried, excitedly. "Allons! Save the eggs! Hurrah! Vivela science!" And he scrambled up on the fourth egg and sat there, armsfolded, sublime courage transfiguring him from head to foot.
We all gave him a cheer, which was hushed as the stage-manager ran in,warning us that the audience was already assembled and in place.
"You're not going to raise the curtain while we're sitting, are you?"demanded the King of Finland, anxiously.
"No, no," I said; "sit tight, your Majesty. Courage, gentlemen! Ourvindication is at hand!"
The Countess glanced at me with startled eyes; I took her hand,saluted it respectfully, and then quietly led her before the curtain,facing an ocean of upturned faces across the flaring footlights.
She stood a moment to acknowledge the somewhat ragged applause, a calmsmile on her lips. All her courage had returned; I saw that at once.
Very quietly she touched her lips to the _eau-sucree_, laid hermanuscript on the table, raised her beautiful head, and began:
"That the ux is a living bird I am here before you to prove--"
A sharp report behind the curtain drowned her voice. She paled; theaudience rose amid cries of excitement.
"What was it?" she asked, faintly.
"Sir Peter has hatched out his egg," I whispered. "Hark! There goesanother egg!" And I ran behind the curtain.
Such a scene as I beheld was never dreamed of on land or sea. Twoenormous young uxen, all over gigantic pin-feathers, were wanderingstupidly about. Mounted on one was Sir Peter Grebe, eyes starting fromhis apoplectic visage; on the other, clinging to the bird's neck, hungthe Baron de Becasse.
Before I could move, the two remaining eggs burst, and a pair of huge,scrawny fledglings rose among the debris, bearing off on their backsthe King and Crown-Prince.
"Help!" said the King of Finland, faintly. "I'm falling off!"
I sprang to his aid, but tripped on the curtain-spring. The nextinstant the green curtain shot up, and there, revealed to that vastand distinguished audience, roamed four enormous chicks, bearing ontheir backs the most respected and exclusive aristocracy of Europe.
The Countess Suzanne turned with a little shriek of horror, then satdown in her chair, laid her lovely head on the table, and very quietlyfainted away, unconscious of the frantic cheers which went roaring tothe roof.
* * * * *
This, then, is the _true_ history of the famous exposition scandal.And, as I have said, had it not been for the presence in that audienceof two American reporters nobody would have known what all the worldnow knows--nobody would have read of the marvellous feats of barebackriding indulged in by the King of Finland--nobody would have read howSir Peter Grebe steered his mount safely past the footlights only tocome to grief over the prompter's box.
But this _is_ scandal. And, as for the charming Countess Suzanned'Alzette, the public has heard all that it is entitled to hear, andmuch that it is not entitled to hear.
However, on second thoughts, perhaps the public is entitled to hear alittle more. I will therefore say this much--the shock of astonishmentwhich stunned me when the curtain flew up, revealing theKing-bestridden uxen, was nothing to the awful blow which smote mewhen the Count d'Alzette leaped from the orchestra, over thefootlights, and bore away with him the fainting form of his wife, thelovely Countess d'Alzette.
I sometimes wonder--but, as I have repeatedly observed, this dull andpedantic narrative of fact is no vehicle for sentimental soliloquy. Itis, then, merely sufficient to say that I took the earliest steamerfor kinder shores, spurred on to haste by a venomous cable-gram fromthe Smithsonian, repudiating me, and by another from Bronx Park,ordering me to spend the winter in some inexpensive, poisonous, andunobtrusive spot, and make a collection of isopods. The island of Javaappeared to me to be as poisonously unobtrusive and inexpensive aregion as I had ever heard of; a steamer sailed from Antwerp forBatavia in twenty-four hours. Therefore, as I say, I took thenight-train for Brussels, and the steamer from Antwerp the followingevening.
Of my uneventful voyage, of the happy and successful quest, there islittle to relate. The Javanese are frolicsome and hospitable. Therewas a girl there with features that were as delicate as thoughchiselled out of palest amber; and I remember she wore a mostwonderful jewelled, helmet-like head-dress, and jingling bangles onher ankles, and when she danced she made most graceful and poeticgestures with her supple wrists--but that has nothing to do withisopods, absolutely nothing.
Letters from home came occasionally. Professor Farrago had returned tothe Bronx and had been re-elected to the high office he had so noblyheld when I first became associated with him.
Through his kindness and by his advice I remained for several years inthe Far East, until a letter from him arrived recalling me and alsoannouncing his own hurried and sudden departure for Florida. He alsomentioned my promotion to the office of subcurator of department; so Istarted on my homeward voyage very much pleased with the world, andarrived in New York on April 1, 1904, ready for a rest to which Ibelieved myself entitled. And the first thing that they handed me wasa letter from Professor Farrago, summoning me South.