"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!"