And not only did she know in which room stood the lady ready to
emerge, all blushing and radiant, should her door be opened, but she
knew who the lady was. It was one of the fairest and loveliest of
the damsels of the court who had been selected as the reward of the
accused youth, should he be proved innocent of the crime of aspiring
to one so far above him; and the princess hated her. Often had she
seen, or imagined that she had seen, this fair creature throwing
glances of admiration upon the person of her lover, and sometimes
she thought these glances were perceived and even returned. Now and
then she had seen them talking together; it was but for a moment or
two, but much can be said in a brief space; it may have been on most
unimportant topics, but how could she know that? The girl was
lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the
princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood
transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors,
she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent
door.
When her lover turned and looked at her, and his eye met hers as she
sat there paler and whiter than any one in the vast ocean of anxious
faces about her, he saw, by that power of quick perception which is
given to those whose souls are one, that she knew behind which door
crouched the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected
her to know it. He understood her nature, and his soul was assured
that she would never rest until she had made plain to herself this
thing, hidden to all other lookers-on, even to the king. The only
hope for the youth in which there was any element of certainty was
based upon the success of the princess in discovering this mystery;
and the moment he looked upon her, he saw she had succeeded, as in
his soul he knew she would succeed.
Then it was that his quick and anxious glance asked the question,
"Which?" It was as plain to her as if he shouted it from where he
stood. There was not an instant to be lost. The question was asked
in a flash; it must be answered in another.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised
her hand, and made a slight, quick movement toward the right. No one
but her lover saw her. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the
arena.
He turned, and with a firm and rapid step he walked across the empty
space. Every heart stopped beating, every breath was held, every eye
was fixed immovably upon that man. Without the slightest hesitation,
he went to the door on the right, and opened it.
* * * * *
Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that
door, or did the lady?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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