“We are saved,” exclaimed Marmus, when the disciple had gone. Soon after, the ablest pupil of the great philosopher drew up a notice of the Zebra. Under the name of Marmus he launched out boldly, and formed the new science. This pamphlet enabled us at once to enter into the enjoyable phase of celebrity. My master and his friend were overwhelmed with invitations to dinners, dances, receptions, morning and evening parties. They were proclaimed learned and illustrious everywhere. They indeed had too many supporters, ever for a moment to doubt their being geniuses of the highest order. A copy of the work by Marmus was sent to the Baron. The Academy of Science then found the affair so grave that not a member dared give his opinion.” {147} “We must see, we must wait,” they said. Sathenbeck, the learned Belgian, is coming by express, Vas-man-Bitten from Holland, and the illustrious Fabricus Gobtouswell are on their way to see the Zebra. The young and ardent disciple of zoological unity was engaged on a memoir which contained terrible conclusions, directed against the Baron’s dogmas. Already a party was forming to promote unity applied to botany. The illustrious professors, Condolle and Mirbel, hesitated out of consideration for the authority of the Baron. I was now ready for inspection. My mountebank artist, in addition to finishing my bands, had furnished me with a cow’s tail, while my yellow stripes gave me the appearance of an animated Austrian sentry-box. “It is astonishing,” said the minister, as he gazed upon my coat for the first time. “Astonishing!” echoed the professor; “but, thank goodness, not inexplicable.” “I am puzzled,” said the minister, “how best to reconcile this new discovery with all our preconceived notions of zoology.” “A most difficult problem,” suggested Marmus. “It seems strange,” said the great man, “that this African Zebra should live in the temperature of the Rue de Tournon.” This was treading on delicate ground, but my master was equal to the occasion, although on hearing the remark I began to walk like an ass. “Yes,” replied Marmus, “I hope he may live until my lectures are over.” “You are a clever fellow, but bear in mind that your new and popular science must be moulded to fit in with the doctrines of the worthy Baron. Perhaps it would lend dignity to your cause were you represented by a pupil.” Here the Baron entered, and overhearing the remark, said:— “Ah, sir, I have a pupil of great promise, who repeats admirably what he is taught. We call this sort of man a vulgariser.” “And we,” said the journalist, “call him a parrot. Those men render real service to science as they talk it down to the level of the popular mind.” “Well, that is settled,” said Marmus, taking the Baron’s hand; “let us pull together.” The minister said: “Marmus, you deserve, and shall receive, the substantial reward of genius in such honour and support as your country has to bestow.” {148}