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At nine o'clock in the evening, July 31, 1900, the International Congress was to assemble in the great lecture-hall of the Belgian Scientific Pavilion, which adjourned the Tasmanian Pavilion, to hear the Countess Suzanne d'Alzette read her paper on the ux.
I had come to the congress prepared to deliver a monograph on the great auk; but now the subject went overboard as the birds themselves had, and I found myself pleading with the committee to give the Countess a hearing on the ux. "Why not?" I exclaimed, warmly. "It is established beyond question that the ux does exist in Tasmania.
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.
As we alone were unable to move and handle the enormous eggs, the Countess, whose sweet character was a stranger to vindictiveness or petty resentment, had written to the members of the ornithological committee, revealing the marvellous fortune which had crowned her efforts in the search for evidence to sustain her theory concerning the ux, and inviting these gentlemen to aid her in displaying the great eggs to the assembled congress.
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.
Great friend of La R.; tant pis. Lex et ux. ill suited; mischief brewing. Gamp, the mutual friend and confidant. Now for the trip to Annapolis. No, not now either. Yet I will go to bed, and not be kept up by any such baggage. So good-morning. Poor little Natalie, I have not written her a line. What's the matter I don't write to Natalie any more? I say I will go to bed.
Great friend of La R.; tant pis. Lex et ux. ill suited; mischief brewing. Gamp, the mutual friend and confidant. Now for the trip to Annapolis. No, not now either. Yet I will go to bed, and not be kept up by any such baggage. So good-morning. Poor little Natalie, I have not written her a line. What's the matter I don't write to Natalie any more? I say I will go to bed.
What evidence I possessed to sustain our theory concerning the existence of the ux I hastened to reveal; then, heart beating excitedly, I asked her about the eggs and where they were at present, and whether she believed it possible to bring them to Paris all these questions in the same breath which brought a happy light into her eyes and a delicious ripple of laughter to her lips.
The snow was deeper than ever, and our horses were ready to drop at every step. We had been five hours on the road; the driver said Kihlangi was "üx verst" distant, and at three, finally, we arrived. We appreciated rather better what we had endured when we found that the temperature was 44° below zero. I at once ordered horses, and a strapping young fellow was sent off in a bad humor to get them.
I came to the last paragraph, smoking serenely, and leaning back comfortably, one leg crossed over the other. Then, suddenly, my attention became riveted on the words under my eyes. Could I have read them aright? Could I believe what I read in ever-growing astonishment which culminated in an excitement that stirred the very hair on my head? "The ux exists. There is no longer room for doubt.
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