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."