wedding; he would never keep still for a moment; he would upset all
the other animals, and how could I be expected to remain cool with a
great, hot, steaming beast like that at my elbow? Why, he must raise
the temperature of that cage to the atmosphere of a Turkish bath! For
Lurana's sake as well as my own, I really must draw the line at
tigers--they were not in the bond.
Another thing that annoyed me was the senseless tomfoolery of the
clowns, who persisted in running after the cage at the conclusion of
the performance, and teasing the poor defenceless animals by making
grimaces and dashing their ridiculous conical hats against the bars.
It was painful to think that any one could be found to smile at such
cheap buffoonery--if I had been the ring-master, I would have given
those cowardly idiots a taste of the whip!
I decided to go round afterwards and see Onion about that tiger.
I did not see the lion-tamer, as he had just left the hall, and Mr
Sawkins, I was told, was engaged, but I saw Mlle. Leonie, who was most
friendly.
[Illustration: Mademoiselle.]
I remarked, carelessly, that I saw they had put a tiger into the cage.
Mademoiselle said he was a member of the _troupe_, but had been
indisposed and temporarily transferred to the hospital cage.
I hinted that a tiger, however convalescent, was hardly a desirable
addition to our wedding party. Mademoiselle was astounded; a so
gracious beast, a veritable treasure, with him present, the ceremony
would have a style, a _cachet_, an elegance. Without him--ah! bah! it
would be _triste_--banal, tame!
I admitted this, but urged that we were quiet people who wanted to be
married as quietly as possible, and that a tiger, for persons in our
condition of life, was a ridiculous piece of ostentation. It was
always better to begin as one meant to go on.
She differed from me totally. I was too modest, for, of course, it was
incredible that I, who was so full of _sangfroid_, could object to the
tiger for any other reason?
"Personally," I replied, "I had no prejudice against tigers
whatever--but Mademoiselle would understand that I was bound to
consider another person's convenience."
"Not possible!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, "a young lady with so much
_verve_ to be timid! Why, Mons. Onion raved of her fearlessness!"
I said it was not timidity in Lurana's case--she merely happened to
have an antipathy for tigers. Some people, as Mademoiselle was
doubtless aware, were unable to remain in the same room with a cat;
Miss de Castro could not stay in the same cage with a tiger--it was
temperament.
"Ah," said Mdlle. Hortense, "I understand that. A sensitive?"
"Yes," I said, "a sensitive."
"But Niono says she is one of us!" objected Mademoiselle, "that she
was brought up amongst animals--that her mamma was herself an
animal-tamer."
"Of white mice and canary birds," I said, "but that is not quite the
same thing as tigers, and I am perfectly certain that if that tiger is
retained, the wedding will not take place."
Her keen grey eyes flashed with comprehension. Ah, the poor little
one! in that case it was another thing. She would speak to the
"Patron" and to Mons. Onion; the tiger should not be permitted to
trouble the fete. I could rely absolutely upon her--he should be
accommodated elsewhere.
I went back to Lurana in a somewhat relieved frame of mind, and when
she asked me where I had been, I mentioned, perhaps unwisely, that I
had dropped in at the Circus and had a little chat with Mlle. Leonie.
I did not say anything about the tiger, because there seemed to be no
object in disturbing her, now that the matter was comfortably settled,
not to mention that if Lurana had known I had directed the removal of
the tiger without consulting her, she was quite self-willed enough to
insist on his immediate restoration to the lion-cage.
Most girls would have been impressed by my courage in going near the
Circus at all at such a time; not so Lurana, who pretended to believe
that Mlle. Leonie was the attraction.
"Oh, I noticed she was making eyes at you from the very beginning,"
she declared; "you had better marry her, and then Mr Niono could
marry me. I daresay he would have no objection."
"My darling," I said, gently, "do not let us quarrel the very last
evening we may spend together on earth."
"You might take a more cheerful view of it than that, Theodore!" she
exclaimed.
"I think you are a little inclined to treat it too lightly," I
replied. "I have been studying those lions, Lurana, and it is my
deliberate opinion that they are in a condition of suppressed
excitement which will break out on the slightest pretext. Unless you
can trust yourself to meet their gaze without faltering, without so
much as a flicker of the eyelid you will, unless I am greatly
mistaken, stand a considerable chance of being torn to pieces."
"Nonsense, Theodore!" she said, "they can't possibly tell whether I am
meeting their gaze or not, or even shutting my eyes--for, of course, I
shall be wearing a veil."
But _I_ should not--and it really did not seem fair. "I rather thought
of putting on a green shade myself," I said. It had only just occurred
to me.
"Don't be absurd, Theodore!" she replied. "What _can_ you want with a
green shade?"
"My eyes are not strong," I said, "and with those electric lights so
close to the cage, I _might_ blink or even close my eyes. A green
shade, like your bridal veil, would conceal the act!"
"As if anybody ever _heard_ of a bridegroom with a green shade over
his eyes! I certainly will not enter that cage if I am to be made
publicly ridiculous!"
"Do I understand," I said, very gravely, "that you _refuse_ to enter
the lion-cage?"
"With a man in a green shade? Most certainly I refuse. Not otherwise."
"Then you will sacrifice my life to mere appearances? Ah, Lurana, that
is only one more proof that vanity--not love--has led you to this
marriage!"
"Why don't you own at once that you'd give anything to get out of it,
Theodore?"
"It is you," I retorted, "_you_, Lurana, who are secretly dreading the
ordeal, and you are trying to throw the responsibility of giving up
the whole thing on me--it's not _fair_, you know!"
"_I_ want to give up the whole thing? Theodore, you _know_ that isn't
true!"
"Children, children!" said the Professor, who had been a silent and
unnoticed witness of our dispute till then, "What is this talk about
giving up the marriage? I implore you to consider the consequences, if
the wedding is broken off now by your default. You will be mobbed by a
justly indignant crowd, which will probably wreck the hall as a sign
of their displeasure. You are just now the two most prominent and
popular persons in the United Kingdom--you will become the objects of
universal derision. You will ruin that worthy and excellent man, Mr
Sawkins, offend Archibald Chuck, and do irretrievable damage to Miss
Rakestraw's prospects of success in journalism. Of myself I say
nothing, though I may mention that the persons who have paid me fancy
prices for the few seats which the management placed at my disposition
will infallibly demand restitution and damages. I might even be forced
to recover them from _you_, Theodore. On the other hand, by merely
facing a hardly appreciable danger for a very few minutes, you cover
yourselves with undying glory, you gain rich and handsome wedding
gifts, which I hear the proprietors intend to bestow upon you; you
receive an ovation such as is generally reserved for Royal nuptials;
and yet you, Theodore, would forfeit all this--for what? For a green
shade, which would probably only serve to infuriate the animals?"
This had not struck me before, and I could not help seeing that there
was something in it.
"I give up the shade," I said; "but I do think that Lurana is in such
a nervous and overstrung condition just now that it is not safe for
her to enter the cage without a medical certificate."
Lurana laughed. "What for, Theodore? To satisfy the lions? Don't
distress yourself on my account--I am perfectly well. At the appointed
time I shall present myself at the--the altar. If you are not there to
receive me, to stand by my side in the sight of all, you lose me for
ever. A de Castro can never marry a Craven."
She looked so splendid as she said this that I felt there was no peril
in the world that I would not face to gain her, that life without her
would be unendurable.
Since she was as resolved as ever on this project, I must see it out,
that was all, and trust to luck to pull me through. Onion would be
there--and he understood lions; and, besides, there was always the
bare chance of the ceremony being stopped at the eleventh hour.
I left early, knowing that I should require a good night's rest, and
Lurana and I parted, on the understanding that our next meeting would
be at the Agricultural Hall on the following afternoon.
Whether it was due to a cup of coffee I had taken at the Professor's,
or to some other cause, I do not know, but I had a wretched night,
sleeping very literally in fits and starts, and feeling almost
thankful when it was time to get up.
A cold bath freshened me up wonderfully, and, as they naturally did
not expect me in the City on my wedding-day, I had the whole morning
to myself, and decided to get through it by taking a brisk walk.
Before starting, I sent a bag containing my wedding garments to the
Agricultural Hall, where a dressing room had been reserved for me, and
then I started, via the Seven Sisters Road, for Finsbury Park.
As I passed an optician's shop, I happened to see, hanging in the
window, several pairs of coloured spectacles, one of which I went in
and bought, and walked on with a sense of reassurance. Through the
medium of such glasses a lion would lose much of his terrors, and
would, at the same time, be unable to detect any want of firmness in
my gaze; indeed, if a wild beast can actually be dominated by a human
eye, how much more should he be so when that eye is reinforced by a
pair of smoked spectacles!
[Illustration: "A de Castro can never marry a Craven."]
My recollection of the rest of that walk is indistinct. I felt no
distress, only a kind of stupor. I tried to fix my thoughts on Lurana,
on her strange beauty, and the wondrous fact that in a very few hours
the ceremony, which was to unite us, would be, at all events,
_commenced_. But at times I had a pathetic sense of the irony which
decreed that I, a man of simple tastes and unenterprising disposition,
should have fallen hopelessly in love with the only young woman in the
United Kingdom capable of insisting on being married in a wild-beast
cage.
It seemed hard, and I remember envying quite ordinary
persons--butchers, hawkers, errand-boys, crossing-sweepers, and the
like, for their good fortune in not being engaged to spend any part of
that afternoon in a den of forest-bred African lions.
However, though there was nothing about the intentions of the Home
Office in the early editions of the evening papers, the officials
_might_ be preparing a dramatic _coup_ for the last moment. I was
determined not to count upon it--but the thought of it kept me up
until the time when I had to think of returning, for the idea of
flight never for an instant presented itself to me. I was on _parole_
as it were, and I preferred death by Lurana's side to dishonour and
security without her.
So anxious was I not to be late, and also to discover whether any
communication from the Home Secretary had reached the manager, that I
almost hurried back to Islington. I was admitted to the Hall by a
private entrance, and shown to the kind of unroofed cabin in which I
was to change, and which, being under the balcony and at some distance
from the gangway between the stables and the ring, was comparatively
private and secluded.
Here, after asking an assistant to let Mr Niono know I had arrived,
and would like to see him, I waited. The Circus had begun, as I knew
from the facts that the blare of the orchestrions was hushed, and that
a brass band overhead began and left off with the abruptness peculiar
to Circus music.
Screens of board and canvas hid the auditorium from view, but I was
conscious of a vast multitude on the other side, vociferous and in the
best of humours.
Between the strains of the orchestra and the rattling volleys of
applause, I heard the faint stamping and trampling from the stables,
and, a sound that struck a chill to my heart--the prolonged roar of
exasperation and _ennui_ which could only proceed from a bored lion.
Then there was a rap at the door, which made me start, and Niono burst
in.
"So you've found your way here," he said. "Feeling pretty fit? That's
the ticket! The bride ain't arrived yet, so you've lots of time."
"You've heard nothing from the Home Office yet, I suppose?" I asked.
"Not a word--and, between you and me, I made sure they meant to crab
the show. You've the devil's own luck!"
"I have, indeed," I said, with feeling. "Still, we mustn't be too
sure--they may stop us yet!"
"They may try it on--but our men have got their instructions. If they
_did_ come now, they wouldn't get near the ring till it was all over,
so don't you worry yourself about that."
I said everything seemed to have been admirably arranged. "By the
way," I added, "where have you put the tiger?"
"Do you mean old Rajah?" he said; and I replied that I _did_ mean old
Rajah.
"Why, _he's_ all right--in the cage along with the others--where did
you _suppose_ he'd be--loose?"
"I particularly requested," I explained, "that he might be put
somewhere else during the wedding. Mademoiselle promised that it
should be seen to."
"It's nothing to do with Ma'amsell," he said, huffily; "_she_ don't
give orders here, Ma'amsell don't."
"I mean, she promised to mention the matter to you," I said, more
diplomatically.
"She never said nothing about it to _me_," he replied; "I expect she
forgot."
"I can only say it was extremely careless of her," I said. "The fact
is, I have my doubts whether that tiger is to be trusted."
"Well, you never can trust a tiger same as you can a lion," he
replied, candidly, "so I won't deceive you. But old Rajah ain't so
particular nasty--as tigers go."
"He may not be," I said, "but, in Miss de Castro's interests, I must
beg you to shift him into some other cage till this affair is over. I
can't allow her to run any unnecessary risk."
"I don't say you're wrong," he answered, "I wish I'd known before, I'd
have asked the gov'nor."
[Illustration: "If them two got together, there'd be the doose's
delight."]
"Ask him now," I urged, "surely you can put the tiger back in the
hospital cage for an hour or two."
"The Jaguar's in there," he said; "he was a bit off colour, so we put
him there this morning. And if them two got together, there'd be the
doose's delight!"
"Couldn't you put him somewhere else, then?" I suggested.
"I _might_ ha' shunted him on to the Armadillo at a pinch," he said
thoughtfully, "_he_ wouldn't ha' taken any notice, but the gov'nor
would have to be consulted first,--and he's engaged in the ring.
Besides, it would take too much time to move old Rajah now--you must
put up with him, that's all. You'll be right enough if you keep your
head and stick close to me. I've taken care they've all had a good
dinner. I say," he broke off suddenly, "you're looking uncommon blue."
"I don't _feel_ nervous," I said, "at least, not more nervous than a
man _ought_ to feel who's just about to be married. If you mean to
suggest that I'm going to show the white feather----!"
"Not you," he said, "what would you _get_ by it, you know? After
billing this affair all over the town, we can't afford to disappoint
the public, and if I saw you hanging back--why I'm blest if I wouldn't
carry you into the cage myself."
I retorted angrily that I would not put him to that inconvenience,
that I was as cool as he was, and that I did not understand his remark
that I was looking blue.
"Lord, what a touchy chap you are!" he cried; "I meant looking blue
about the jaw, that's all. If I was you, I'd have a clean shave. It's
enough to put any lady off if she sees you with a chin like the barrel
of a musical-box."
Somehow I had omitted to shave myself as usual that morning, intending
to get shaved later, but had forgotten to look for a hairdresser's
shop during my walk.
"You'll find a razor in that drawer," he said, "if you don't mind
making shift with cold water, for there's no one about to fetch you
any hot. Now I must be off and get into my own togs. Make yourself at
home, you know. I'll give you another call later on."
[Illustration: I was forlornly mopping when Niono returned.]
Perhaps the razor was blunt, perhaps it was the cold water, anyhow I
inflicted a gash on the extreme point of my chin which bled profusely.
I dabbed and sluiced, but nothing I could do seemed to check the flow;
it went on, obstinate and irrepressible. I was still forlornly mopping
when Niono returned in his braided jacket, tights and Hessian boots,
whistling a tune.
"The bride's just driven up," he announced, "looking like a
picture--what pluck she's got! I wish I was in your shoes! Ma'amsell's
taken her to her room. My word, though, you've given yourself a nasty
cut; got any spider's web about you? Stops it in no time."
As I do not happen to go about festooned in cobwebs, his suggestion
was of little practical value, and so I intimated rather sharply.
"Well, don't get in a fluster," he said, "we're only a couple of turns
off the Cage Act as it is; you slip into them spicy lavender trousers
and that classy frock-coat of yours as quick as you can, and I'll try
if I can't borrow a bit of courtplaster off one of our ladies."
I had just put on a clean shirt when he was back again; "I could only
get goldbeater's skin," he remarked, "and precious little of that, so
be careful with it. And the parson's come, and would like to have a
look at the licence."
I handed him the document, and tried to apply the goldbeater's skin,
which curled and shrivelled, and would stick to nothing but my
fingers--and still the haemorrhage continued.
"It's all over your shirt _now_!" said the lion-tamer, as if I was
doing it on purpose. "I wouldn't have had this happen for something.
Why, I've known 'em get excited with the _smell_ of blood, let alone
the sight of it."
"Do you mean the lions?" I inquired, with a faint sick sensation.
"Well, it was the _tiger_ my mind was running on more," was his gloomy
reply.
My own mind began to run on the tiger too, and a most unpleasant form
of mental exercise it was.
"After all," said Niono with an optimism that sounded a trifle forced,
"there's no saying. He _mayn't_ spot it. _None_ of 'em mayn't."
"But what do you think yourself?" I could not help asking.
"I couldn't give an opinion till we get inside," he answered, "but
we'll have the red hot irons handy in case he tries on any of his
games. And if you can't stop that chin of yours," he added, taking a
wrapper from his own neck and tossing it to me, "you'd better hide it
in this--they'll only think you've got a sore throat or something. But
do hurry up. I'm just going to see the old elephant put in the shafts,
and then I'll come back for you, so don't dawdle."
Once more I was alone; I felt so chilly that I put on my old coat and
waistcoat again, for I did not venture to touch my new suit until my
chin left off bleeding, and it seemed inexhaustible, though the
precious minutes were slipping by faster and faster.
The great building had grown suddenly silent; I could almost feel the
air vibrating with the suppressed excitement of the vast unseen crowd
which was waiting patiently for the lions, and Lurana--and me.
Soon I heard a voice--probably a menagerie assistant's--in the passage
outside, and presently a shuffling tread approaching, and then I
perceived towering above the wooden partition, a huge grey bulk,
ridged and fissured like a mountain side, and touched where the light
fell on it with a mouldy bloom--it was the elephant on his way to be
attached to the lion-cage!
I stared helplessly up at his uncouth profile, with the knobby
forehead worn to a shiny black, and the sardonic little eye that met
mine with a humorous intelligence, as though recommending me to haste
to the wedding.
He plodded past, and I realised that I had no time to change now; my
new wedding suit was a useless extravagance--I must go to the altar as
I was. Niono would be back to fetch me in a moment. Lurana would never
forgive me for keeping her waiting.
Hastily I wound the muffler round my neck till my chin was hidden in
its folds, and put on my hat. Could I have mislaid the spectacles? No,
thank heaven, they were in the pocket of my great coat. I put them on,
and my wedding toilet--such as it was--was complete.
Then I cast a hurried glance at myself in a tarnished mirror nailed
against the matchboarding, and staggered back in dismay. I was
not merely unrecognisable; I was--what is a thousand times
worse--_ridiculous_!
[Illustration: My wedding toilette was complete.]
Yes, no bridegroom in the world could hope to make a creditable
appearance with his nose only just showing above a worsted comforter
and his eyes hidden behind a pair of smoked spectacles. It was enough
to make any lion roar--the audience would receive me with howls!
I had been prepared--I was still prepared--for Lurana's dear sake, to
face the deadliest peril. But to do so with a total loss of dignity;
to be irresistibly comic in the supreme crisis, to wrestle with wild
beasts to the accompaniment of peals of Homeric laughter--would any
lover in the world be capable of heroism such as that?
True, I might remove the spectacles--but in that case I could not
trust my nerve; or I might take off the muffler but then I could not
trust the tiger. And in either case I should be courting not only my
own destruction, but that of one whose life was far dearer to me than
my own.
I asked myself solemnly whether I had the right to endanger her
safety, simply from a selfish unwillingness to appear grotesque in her
eyes and those of the audience. The answer was what every rightminded
reader will have foreseen.
And, seeing that the probability was that Lurana would absolutely
decline to go through the ceremony at all with the guy I now appeared
(for had she not objected even to my assuming a green shade, which
was, comparatively, becoming), it was obvious that only one
alternative remained, and that I took.
Cautiously opening the door of my cabin, I looked up and down the
passage. At one end I could just see the elephant surrounded by a
crowd of grooms and helpers, who were presumably harnessing him to the
cage and were too far away or too much engaged to notice me. At the
other were a few deserted stalls and rifle-galleries, whose
proprietors had all gone to swell the crowd of spectators who were
waiting to see as much as they could of my wedding, and it began to
seem likely that they would see very little indeed.
I was about to make for the nearest exit when I remembered that it
would probably be guarded, so, assuming as far as possible the air of
an ordinary visitor, I slipped quietly up a broad flight of stairs, on
each of which was a recommendation to try somebody's "Pink Pills for
Pale People," and gained the upper gallery without attracting
attention.
I felt instinctively that my best chance of escaping detection was to
mingle with the crowd, and besides, I was naturally curious to know
how the affair would end, so, seeing a door and pigeon-hole with the
placard "Balcony Seats, Sixpence," I went in, and was lucky enough to
secure the only cane bottom chair left in the back row.
After removing my spectacles, I had a fairly good view of the ring
below, with its brown tan enclosed by a white border cushioned along
the top in faded crimson. The reserved stalls were all full, and
beyond the barriers, the crowd swayed and surged in a dense black
mass. Nobody was inside the ring except a couple of nondescript grooms
in scarlet liveries, who hung about with an air of growing
embarrassment. The orchestra opposite was reiterating "The Maiden's
Prayer" with a perseverance that at length got upon the nerves of the
audience, which began to stamp suggestively.
"It's a swindle," said a husky man, who was obviously inclined to
scepticism, and also sherry, "a reg'lar take in! There won't be nobody
married in a lion's cage--I've said so all along."