I determined to once more go away, and to seek in the depths of the wild forests the elephants' Burial Place, and there let myself die of hunger, among the whitening bones of my mates.
Yes, this evening's performance should be the last.
When all would be asleep, I would quit my wooden shed; I would swim across the narrow channel that separates the island of Bombay from the main land, and go to find the resting-place where all my griefs would die with me.
I was so preoccupied with the resolve I had taken, and the thoughts it awakened, that I paid little attention to the extraordinary activity which reigned that evening among the artists of the "Grand Circus of the Two Worlds."
Costumes were being repaired, the accessories furbished up; familiar acts were being rehearsed with an altogether unusual care; and they were even sewing in great haste a gold fringe onto a drapery of red velvet—for what purpose I could not imagine.
The performance began much later than usual. It was delayed as much as possible, in spite of the impatient stampings of the public.
When I entered the Ring I saw, facing the entrance, a great space separated from the rest by railings painted red; the front of this improvised box was covered by a drapery of red velvet fringed with gold, and ornamented with the Arms of England, and garlands of flowers. Arm chairs were placed inside.
I knew at once that they expected some distinguished person; but he had not yet arrived, for the box was empty, and made a great dark gap in the midst of the other seats, which were all filled to overflowing by a brilliant audience, gaily dressed.
Mr. Oldham had been obliged, unwillingly, to begin my performance, and I was engaged in balancing on the Rolling Ball, when a general movement of the audience led me to know that the illustrious Personage had arrived.
Being careful not to lose my balance, it was impossible to look up to see who it might be: