In a bygone era, there reigned a semi-barbaric king whose thoughts and inclinations were a blend of polished ideas from distant Latin neighbors and his own untamed nature.
He possessed a vibrant imagination and possessed an authority so commanding that his whims became reality at his mere decree. He was prone to deep introspection, and whenever he reached an agreement with himself, his decisions were swiftly carried out. When his domestic and political affairs flowed harmoniously, he exuded a gentle and amiable nature.
However, when a slight disruption occurred and his carefully orchestrated systems faltered, he became even more amiable and genial, for nothing pleased him more than straightening what was askew and eliminating any discrepancies.
One of the customs he adopted from more civilized lands was that of the public arena. Through exhibitions of valor involving both man and beast, he sought to refine and cultivate the minds of his subjects. Yet, even in this borrowed concept, his exuberant and barbaric imagination prevailed.
The king's arena was not constructed merely to entertain the masses with the spectacle of dying gladiators or to witness the inevitable clash between conflicting religious beliefs and ravenous predators. Instead, it served a higher purpose, one that would broaden and stimulate the intellectual faculties of the people.
This grand amphitheater, complete with encircling galleries, mysterious vaults, and concealed passages, served as an instrument of poetic justice, where crimes were punished and virtues rewarded through the impartial and untainted hand of fate.
When a subject was accused of a crime significant enough to capture the king's attention, a public announcement would declare that the accused person's fate would be determined in the king's arena.
This arena, aptly named, was not only a physical structure borrowed from distant lands but also a manifestation of the king's own ingenuity. As a sovereign ruler who owed no more allegiance to tradition than his own whims dictated, he infused every adopted concept and practice with the lush growth of his barbaric idealism.
When all the people had assembled in the galleries, and the king, surrounded by his court, sat high up on his throne of royal state on one side of the arena, he gave a signal, a door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the amphitheatre.
Directly opposite him, on the other side of the enclosed space, were two doors, exactly alike and side by side. It was the duty and the privilege of the person on trial, to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open either door he pleased: he was subject to no guidance or influence but that of the aforementioned impartial and incorruptible chance.
If he opened the one, there came out of it a hungry tiger, the fiercest and most cruel that could be procured, which immediately sprang upon him, and tore him to pieces, as a punishment for his guilt. The moment that the case of the criminal was thus decided, doleful iron bells were clanged, great wails went up from the hired mourners posted on the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and downcast hearts, wended slowly their homeward way, mourning greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have merited so dire a fate.
But, if the accused person opened the other door, there came forth from it a lady, the most suitable to his years and station that his majesty could select among his fair subjects; and to this lady he was immediately married, as a reward of his innocence. It mattered not that he might already possess a wife and family, or that his affections might be engaged upon an object of his own selection: the king allowed no such subordinate arrangements to interfere with his great scheme of retribution and reward.
The exercises, as in the other instance, took place immediately, and in the arena. Another door opened beneath the king, and a priest, followed by a band of choristers' and dancing maidens blowing joyous airs on golden horns and treading an measure, advanced to where the pair stood side by side; and the wedding was promptly and cheerily solemnized. Then the gay brass bells rang forth their merry peals, the people shouted glad hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded by children strewing flowers on his path, led his bride to his home. This was the king's semi-barbaric method of administering justice.
Its perfect fairness is obvious. The criminal could not know out of which door would come the lady: he opened either he pleased, without having the slightest idea whether, in the next instant, he was to be devoured or married. On some occasions the tiger came out of one door, and on some out of the other.
The decisions of this tribunal were not only fair, they were positively determinate: the accused person was instantly punished if he found himself guilty; and, if innocent, he was rewarded on the spot, whether he liked it or not. There was no escape from the judgments or the king's arena.
The institution was a very popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they were to witness a bloody slaughter or a hilarious wedding. This element of uncertainty lent an interest to the occasion which it could not otherwise have attained.
Thus, the masses were entertained and pleased, and the thinking part of the community could bring no charge of unfairness against this plan; for did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands? This semi-barbaric king had a daughter as blooming as his most florid fancies, and with a soul as fervent and imperious as his own.
As is usual in such cases, she was the apple of his eye, and was loved by him above all humanity. Among his courtiers was a young man of that fineness of blood and lowness of station common to the conventional heroes of romance who love royal maidens.
This royal maiden was well satisfied with her lover, for he was handsome and brave to a degree unsurpassed in all this kingdom; and she loved him with an ardor that had enough of barbarism in it to make it exceedingly warm and strong.
This love affair moved on happily for many months, until one day the king happened to discover its existence. He did not hesitate nor waver in regard to his duty in the premises. The youth was immediately cast into prison, and a day was appointed for his trial in the king's arena. This, of course, was an especially important occasion; and his majesty, as well as all the people, was greatly interested in the workings and development of this trial.
Once all the people had gathered in the galleries, the king, seated on his throne of royal splendor, surrounded by his court, gave a signal. A door beneath him opened, and the accused subject stepped out into the grand amphitheater. Directly opposite the accused, on the other side of the enclosed space, were two identical doors placed side by side. It was the duty and privilege of the person on trial to walk directly toward these doors and open one of them.
The accused had complete freedom to choose either door, guided solely by the impartial and untainted hand of chance. Behind one door awaited a hungry tiger, the fiercest and cruelest that could be found, ready to pounce upon the accused and tear them apart as a punishment for their guilt.
As soon as the fate of the criminal was determined, mournful iron bells would toll, hired mourners would wail from the outer rim of the arena, and the vast audience, with bowed heads and heavy hearts, would slowly make their way back home, grieving that someone so young and fair or so old and respected had met such a dreadful fate.
However, if the accused person opened the other door, a lady of suitable age and status, chosen by the king from among his fair subjects, would emerge. The accused would be immediately married to this lady as a reward for their innocence. It mattered not whether the accused already had a spouse and family or had affections for another person of their choosing. The king allowed no such personal arrangements to interfere with his grand scheme of retribution and reward.
The wedding ceremony would take place right there in the arena, with a door opening beneath the king to reveal a priest accompanied by a group of choristers and dancing maidens, playing joyful tunes on golden horns and moving to the rhythm. The wedding would be promptly and cheerfully solemnized. The gay brass bells would ring out their merry peals, the people would shout joyful hurrahs, and the innocent man, preceded by children scattering flowers along his path, would lead his bride to their home.
This was the king's semi-barbaric method of dispensing justice. Its perfect fairness was evident. The criminal had no way of knowing which door held the lady; they could open either door of their own choosing, completely unaware whether they would be devoured or married in the next instant.
On some occasions, the tiger would emerge from one door, while on others, it would come from the other. The judgments of this tribunal were not only fair, but also absolute. The accused person would be instantly punished if found guilty, and if innocent, they would be rewarded on the spot, whether they desired it or not. There was no escaping the king's judgments or the arena.
The institution became immensely popular. When the people gathered on the days of great trials, they never knew whether they would witness a brutal slaughter or a joyous wedding. This element of uncertainty added a heightened sense of interest to the proceedings, which could not be achieved otherwise. The masses were entertained and satisfied, and even the more contemplative members of society could find no grounds to accuse this system of unfairness.
After all, did not the accused person hold their own fate in their hands?
The semi-barbaric king had a daughter as radiant as his most extravagant fantasies, possessing a soul as passionate and commanding as his own. As expected in such cases, she was the apple of his eye and loved by him above all others. Among the courtiers was a young man of noble blood but humble station, fitting the mold of conventional heroes found in romantic tales who fall in love with royal maidens.
This love affair blossomed happily for many months, until one fateful day when the king discovered its existence. The king did not hesitate or waver in his duty regarding this matter. The young man was promptly thrown into prison, and a date was set for his trial in the king's arena.
This event held special significance, capturing the attention and interest of both the king and the entire populace, eager to witness the unfolding drama and the resolution of this trial.
The princess, consumed by her fervent and imperious soul, could not bear the thought of her lover's potential fate. Her love for him burned with a barbaric intensity, and she was determined to ensure his survival and happiness. Desperate to discover the truth behind the doors, she employed all her cunning and resourcefulness to unravel the mystery.
Days turned into nights as the princess delved deep into her father's court, seeking any information that could lead her to the answer she sought. She encountered whispers and fragmented hints, each pointing in different directions, adding to the complexity of the choice ahead. The princess's mind raced with conflicting emotions: her loyalty to her lover clashed with the loyalty she owed to her father, the semi-barbaric king.
The day of the trial arrived, and the arena pulsed with anticipation. The princess, torn between her love for the young man and her loyalty to her father, took her place among the spectators, her heart pounding with anxiety. As the accused was brought forward, she locked eyes with him, silently conveying her support and determination.
The accused, though imprisoned and facing a life-or-death decision, drew strength from the princess's gaze. He understood her silent plea and knew that, regardless of the outcome, their love would endure. With a steely resolve, he approached the two doors, aware that his fate hung in the balance.
The crowd held its breath as the accused hesitated, his hand poised between the doors. The princess's heart raced, her mind racing with thoughts of the consequences that awaited him. Would he choose the door that concealed the ferocious tiger or the one leading to a blissful union with a fair lady?
In that moment, a realization washed over the princess. She understood the nature of her father's justice, his desire to test the boundaries of human emotion and the unpredictable nature of fate. The princess could no longer bear the thought of her lover facing such a cruel choice.
Summoning all her courage, she stood up from her seat in the royal box and addressed the king directly. Her voice rang clear through the arena as she pleaded for mercy and compassion. She beseeched her father to spare the young man's life, arguing that love should triumph over the barbaric spectacle that had captivated the kingdom for far too long.
The king, torn between his love for his daughter and his rigid adherence to the laws he had established, contemplated her words. A hush fell over the arena as the king's gaze shifted from the princess to the accused and back again.
Finally, the king rose from his throne, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. He extended his hand towards the young man and declared, to the astonishment of the crowd, that love should prevail over the whims of chance. In that moment, the king realized the inherent cruelty of his own creation and the power of his daughter's plea.
The doors of the arena were thrown open, and the young man, with tears of gratitude in his eyes, rushed into the outstretched arms of the princess. The crowd erupted in applause, acknowledging the triumph of love and the transformation of their king's semi-barbaric rule.
From that day forward, the public arena served a new purpose—to celebrate love, compassion, and the triumph of the human spirit. The kingdom embraced a more enlightened form of justice, one that sought to unite rather than divide. The princess and her lover became symbols of hope and change, inspiring generations to come.
And so, the tale of the semi-barbaric king and his arena was forever etched in the annals of history, a reminder that even in the face of cruelty, love and compassion can ultimately prevail.
Never before had such a case occurred; never before had a subject dared to love the daughter of a king. In after-years such things became commonplace enough; but then they were, in no slight degree, novel and startling.
The tiger-cages of the kingdom were searched for the most savage and relentless beasts, from which the fiercest monster might be selected for the arena; and the ranks of maiden youth and beauty throughout the land were carefully surveyed by competent judges, in order that he, young man, might have a fitting bride in case fate did not determine for him a different destiny. Of course, everybody knew that the deed with which the accused was charged had been done. He had loved the princess, and neither he, she, nor any one else thought of denying the fact; but the king would not think of allowing any fact of this kind to interfere with the workings of the tribunal, in which he took such great delight and satisfaction.
No matter how the affair turned out, the youth would be disposed of; and the king would take an aesthetic pleasure in watching the course of events, which would determine whether or not the young man had done wrong in allowing himself to love the princess.
The appointed day arrived. From far and near the people gathered, and thronged the great galleries of the arena; and crowds, unable to gain admittance, massed themselves against its outside walls. The king and his court were in their places, opposite the twin doors,--those fateful portals, so terrible in their similarity.
All was ready. The signal was given. A door beneath the royal party opened, and the lover of the princess walked into the arena. Tall, beautiful, fair, his appearance was greeted with a low hum of admiration and anxiety. Half the audience had not known so grand a youth had lived among them. No wonder the princess loved him! What a terrible thing for him to be there!
As the youth advanced into the arena, he turned, as the custom was, to bow to the king: but he did not think at all of that royal personage; his eyes were fixed upon the princess, who sat to the right of her father. Had it not been for the moiety of barbarism in her nature, it is probable that lady would not have been there; but her intense and fervid soul would not allow her to be absent on an occasion in which she was so terribly interested. From the moment that the decree had gone forth, that her lover should decide his fate in the king's arena, she had thought of nothing, night or day, but this great event and the various subjects connected with it.
Possessed of more power, influence, and force of character than any one who had ever before been interested in such a case, she had done what no other person had done,--she had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew in which of the two rooms, that lay behind those doors, stood the cage of the tiger, with its open front, and in which waited the lady. Through these thick doors, heavily curtained with skins on the inside, it was impossible that any noise or suggestion should come from within to the person who should approach to raise the latch of one of them; but gold, and the power of a woman's will, had brought the secret to the princess.
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 tile 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 Rash; 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?
The more we reflect upon this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart which leads us through devious mazes of passion, out of which it is difficult to find our way. Think of it, fair reader, not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself, but upon that hot-blooded, semi-barbaric princess, her soul at a white heat beneath the combined fires of despair and jealousy. She had lost him, but who should have him?
How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started in wild horror, and covered her face with her hands, as she thought of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the cruel fangs of the tiger!
But how much oftener had she seen him at the other door! How in her grievous reveries had she gnashed her teeth, and torn her hair, when she saw his start of rapturous delight as he opened the door of the lady! How her soul had burned in agony when she had seen him rush to meet that woman, with her flushing cheek and sparkling eve of triumph; when she had seen him lead her forth, his whole frame kindled with the joy of recovered life; when she had heard the glad shouts from the multitude, and the wild ringing of the happy bells; when she had seen the priest, with his joyous followers, advance to the couple, and make them man and wife before her very eyes; and when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the tremendous shouts of the hilarious multitude, in which her one despairing shriek was lost and drowned!
Would it not be better for him to die at once, and go to wait for her in the blessed regions of semi-barbaric futurity?
And yet, that awful tiger, those shrieks, that blood!
Her decision had been indicated in an instant, but it had been made after days and nights of anguished deliberation. She had known she would be asked, she had decided what she would answer, and, without the slightest hesitation, she had moved her hand to the right.
The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered, and it is not for me to presume to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you: Which came out of the opened door,--the lady, or the tiger?
The Lady, or the Tiger? was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Sun, Aug 19, 2018
Ready for Stockton's sequel? Enjoy reading The Discourager of Hesitancy to see whether you'll learn which door the Princess chose. We offer a useful The Lady, or the Tiger? Study Guide and feature this story in our collection of Short Stories for Middle School. It was often compared to the surprise-ending short story published a year earlier, Thomas Bailey Aldrich's Marjorie Daw.
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