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This has actually been done in some very remarkable work by M. Voigt, but we may also, like Professor Lorentz, look for more general theories, in which the essential image of the electrons shall be preserved, and which will allow all the facts revealed by experiment to be included.
Here, certified by Rentsch, Voigt and others, is a worn-out patch of Paper, which is perhaps worth printing: A Transaction giving rise to endless criticism, then and afterwards. Transaction plainly not reconcilable with the letter of the law; and liable to have logic chopped upon it to any amount, and to all lengths of time.
He found the notary ready for him, at work on some papers which had come in on the previous evening. In a few clear words, Maitre Voigt explained the routine of the office, and the duties Obenreizer would be expected to perform. It still wanted five minutes to eight, when the preliminary instructions were declared to be complete.
Once seated in the "cotton-tail," he began going down into his own country, where he knew every farm he passed, knew the land even when he did not know the owner, what sort of crops it yielded, and about how much it was worth. He did not recognize these farms with the pleasure he had anticipated, because he was so angry about the indignities Mrs. Voigt had suffered.
Henry, says Voigt, having received permission to advance, was not long on the way. The fortress had triple inclosures; Henry was conducted into the second; his retinue remained outside the first. He had laid aside the insignia of royalty; nothing announced his rank.
Even at that moment Bintrey persisted in silencing the notary, and in keeping the lead in the proceedings to himself. Checking Maitre Voigt by a gesture, he dismissed Marguerite and Vendale in these words: "The object of your appearance here is answered," he said. "If you will withdraw for the present, it may help Mr. Obenreizer to recover himself." It did help him.
"Can't I put those documents away under your directions?" Maitre Voigt laughed softly to himself; closed the portfolio in which the papers had been sent to him; handed it to Obenreizer. "Suppose you try," he said. "All my papers of importance are kept yonder." He pointed to a heavy oaken door, thickly studded with nails, at the lower end of the room.
When the notary's housekeeper came home, she found him standing at his door motionless, with the key still in his hand, and the door unopened. The scene shifts again to the foot of the Simplon, on the Swiss side. In one of the dreary rooms of the dreary little inn at Brieg, Mr. Bintrey and Maitre Voigt sat together at a professional council of two. Mr. Bintrey was searching in his despatch-box.
There was a Polish peasant who reached one hundred and fifty-seven and had constantly labored up to his one hundred and forty-fifth year, always clad lightly, even in cold weather. Voigt admits the extreme age of one hundred and sixty.
Maitre Voigt looked round again towards the brown door which led into the inner room. "Have some pity on the poor girl," pleaded Bintrey. "Remember how lately she lost her lover by a dreadful death! Will nothing move you?" "Nothing." Bintrey, in his turn, rose to his feet, and looked at Maitre Voigt. Maitre Voigt's hand, resting on the table, began to tremble.
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