Love Among the Lions: A Matrimonial Experience

Now that the die was cast I found myself anticipating the eventful day with philosophic equanimity. It was an uncomfortable method of getting married, no doubt, but after all, what man ever was comfortable at his own wedding?

And surely one crowded quarter-of-an-hour (for it would certainly be crowded in that cage) of glorious life would be worth an age without Lurana – who was not to be won by any other means.

PART II

It was now the eve of my wedding-day, and it was generally taken for granted that Lurana and I would be allowed to enter the lion-cage without opposition from any quarter.

Whether we should find it as easy to come out again was a point on which opinions differed considerably, but the majority must have been confident that the ceremony would pass off without any unpleasant interruption – for the rush to obtain seats was tremendous.

I was just as tranquil and collected as ever; I could not detect that my valour had "ullaged," as wine-merchants say, in the slightest degree, though Lurana was perpetually questioning me as to whether I was sure I would not rather withdraw.

Of course, I indignantly repudiated the very idea, but it is well known that a perfectly sober person, if suddenly taxed with being drunk, will seem and even feel so, and it is much the same with any imputation of cowardice.

I began to think that constant tea tasting, even though the infusions are not actually swallowed, probably has some subtle effect upon the nervous system, and that it would brace me up and also show me how little cause I had to be uneasy, if I dropped into the Agricultural Hall once more and saw Niono put his lions through their performances.

So I left the City early that afternoon and paid for my admission to the hall like an ordinary sightseer; I did not ask Lurana to accompany me, because I knew she must have plenty to keep her at home just then.

I was just in time for the performing lions, and found a place in the outer edge of the crowd; it was strange to stand there unrecognised and hear myself being freely discussed by all around; strange and decidedly exhilarating, too, to think that in another twenty-four hours I should be, not a spectator of what was to take place in that arena, but one of the principal performers, the centre of breathless interest, the hero of the hour!

But with the appearance of the cage, this unnatural exhilaration suddenly died down. It was not so much the lions, though they struck me as larger and less easy-tempered than on the first occasion, while the lioness was as nearly in open revolt as she dared. What troubled me most was that the cage contained another inmate, one whom I did not remember to have seen before – a magnificent specimen of the Bengal tiger.

It seemed perfectly clear to me that the brute was only about half-trained; he went through his tricks in a sullen perfunctory way, with a savage, snurring snap every now and then, which, even at that distance, made my flesh creep.

And, whenever he snapped, clouds of steam issued from his great jaws; I could see, too, that the lioness was secretly egging him on to fresh acts of defiance, and that he was only watching his opportunity to crouch and spring as soon as Niono's back was turned.

I was perfectly determined that I would not have that tiger at my 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. Léonie, who was most friendly.

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 fête. 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. Léonie. 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. Léonie 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."