“You will please choose your delegate. The journey is a daring one; your delegate will stand in the triangle with me, and so we shall start up.”
“Why should we choose? Let us give preference to volunteers,” said the archbishop.
“Who will volunteer?” asked my friend.
No one replied. The silence of the grave prevailed. “Now you have the opportunity to examine the whole thing with your own senses,” I said to myself; and as my friend repeated his question, I rose and slowly walked to his table. A placid smile passed across his lips as he saw that I was the volunteer, and when I came to his desk he said,—“My esteemed guests, the gentleman who is willing to go on the excursion is a friend of mine. If I do not wish to be considered a charlatan who performs his experiments with the aid of his secret allies, then I cannot accept his services unless you expressly declare that you accept him as your delegate.”
All fastened their searching eyes on me; it seemed to me as though each guest tried to read in my face whether I deserved to be trusted. Then some one in the centre suggested,—
“We cannot do otherwise, as no one else has applied. After all, the main thing is proof; and our delegate must prove the trustworthiness of his report.”
“Exactly so!” came from the tables to the right.
“We are satisfied!” came from the left.
“I am willing,” I said, with some hesitation, “to furnish not only a faithful account of what I shall see, but also proof—if possible.”
“First of all,” my friend resumed, “permit me to arrange the papers chronologically.”
Then he began to arrange them rapidly. Standing close to his table, I could in many cases easily read what was written on this or that slip. There were over four hundred slips. Evidently many wrote more than one note. He showed such skill in arranging them that it took him only about five minutes.
“The first event,” he then said to the guests, “ which, according
