The cause of all the commotion was this. There had appeared in a morning paper a reprint of a highly disrespectful report made to the Académie of Florence upon Astier-Réhu’s ‘Galileo’ and the manifestly apocryphal and absurd (sic) historical documents which were published with it. The report had been sent with the greatest privacy to the President of the Académie Française, and for some days there had been considerable excitement at the Institute, where Astier-Réhu’s decision was eagerly awaited. He had said nothing but, ‘I know, I know; I am taking the necessary steps.’ And now suddenly here was this report which they believed to be known only to themselves, hurled at them like a bomb-shell from the outer sheet of one of the most widely circulated of the Parisian newspapers, and accompanied by remarks insulting to the Permanent Secretary and to the whole Society. Furious was the indignant outcry against the impudence of the journalist and the folly of Astier-Réhu, which had brought this upon them. The Académie has not been accustomed to such attacks, since it has prudently opened its doors to ‘gentlemen of the Press.’ The fiery Laniboire, familiar with every kind of ‘sport.’ talked of cutting off the gentleman’s ears, and it took two or three colleagues to restrain his ardour. ‘Come, Laniboire; we wear the sword, but we do not draw it Why, it’s your own epigram, confound you, though adopted by the Institute.’ ‘Gentlemen, you remember that Pliny the Elder, in the thirteenth book of his “Natural History”’--here arrived Gazan, who came in puffing with his elephantine trot--‘is one of the first writers who mentions counterfeit autographs; amongst others, a false letter of Priam’s on papyrus’-- ‘Monsieur Gazan has not signed the list,’ cried Picheral’s sharp falsetto. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’ And the fat man went off to sign, still discoursing about papyrus and King Priam, though unheard for the hubbub of angry voices, in which the only word that could be distinguished was ‘Académie.’ They all talked about the Académie as if it were an actual live person, whose real view each man believed himself alone to know and to express. Suddenly the exclamations ceased, as Astier-Réhu entered, signed his name, and quietly deposited at his place as Permanent Secretary the ensign of his office, carried under his arm. Then moving towards his colleagues he said: ‘Gentlemen, I have bad news for you. I sent to the Library to be tested the twelve or fifteen thousand documents which made what I called my collection. Well, gentlemen, all are forgeries. The Académie of Florence stated the truth. I am the victim of a stupendous hoax.’ As he wiped from his brow the great drops of sweat wrung out by the strain of his confession, some one asked in an insolent tone: ‘Well, and _so_, Mr. Secretary’--