‘Well,’ said the Princess Faustina, lifting up her sleepy, magnificent eyes, towards her cavaliere servente Egidio di Rezzi, ‘this is indeed a poor show. Oh for the circuses of old! The lions might at least have eaten the man. That would have been something a little bit interesting. Indeed, he only controls them with brute force and a whip.’

‘Yes,’ answered Don Egidio in a low voice, ‘if we could only restore the ancient Colosseum.’

‘But,’ she continued, ‘we could. You see that boy there: that tall, graceful, fair one: would it not be delightful to see him torn to pieces by the lions. Indeed, he has quite the look of a Christian martyr.’ An evil look came to Don Egidio's eyes, like sombre fire playing about them.

‘Yes indeed it would be delicious to see those delicate limbs torn to death and bleeding.’

‘Then,’ said the Princess, ‘that is easily managed. If you go down and tell the proprietor, I mean Francotelli, that I should like to see the boy in the lion-cage: and for that I am willing to pay 10,000 francs, or indeed more than that if necessary. But begin with 10,000. He won't object to one of his troop being put inside the cage, and indeed may possibly think that the lions would not hurt him. He controls them with a whip and is a strong man. But then he has a good deal of difficulty in doing so, and I am sure they would tear a child to pieces.’

Don Egidio's face had lost its evil expression, and regained its usual expression, gentle and caressing.

‘My dear Faustina,’ he said, ‘what you suggest is too atrocious. Besides, remember we live today in the nineteenth century: Rome is not what it was.’

‘No,’ she said, her whole incomparable face and figure becoming animated. ‘This is what I wish: if you will not do what I ask of you, I will not see you again. Besides,’ she said, putting one of her splendid arms round his neck, ‘you said yourself it would cause a delicious sensation.’ He trembled: and went down from the box.

 

Francotelli was not exactly an unkind man. He thought himself extraordinarily generous for having adopted Venanzio, a foundling. Perhaps he did not reflect that Venanzio, whose keep did not cost much, brought him in a great deal more money than all the rest of his children. He learnt all the tricks of the acrobat almost by inspiration. He could turn summersaults better than anyone else, and fly from one trapeze to another, it seemed, without fear and without training. In fact, it was he who made the show.

Francotelli's wife was kind enough in her coarse way: she willingly gave Venanzio the crumbs—when her own children had been fed. His real torture was from the three sons of Francotelli. They hated him, because he was a better performer than themselves: and also for a saintly ecstatic expression on his face, so different from theirs, though he was generally advertised as their brother. They—Pietro, Lippo, Luigi—had all coarse hair and low foreheads: and the child with fair silken hair and heaven-blue eyes was their detestation.

Then again, Francotelli never beat Venanzio, simply because he never gave him any cause for offence, and learnt his tricks without any trouble; and had frequently occasion to beat his own boys, for not doing their gymnastic feats properly: although to him the rapt saintly expression of Venanzio was a continual disgust. Indeed, all of Venanzio's spare time was wholly given to prayer. Once when quite a child, he thought to himself, ‘Well I cannot sing, I cannot play. But then I can tumble better than other boys. Would it not please Our Lady if I went and tumbled before her.’ So he was found one day in a side chapel of S. Maria Maggiore turning summersaults before the altar. Ever since then he was unmercifully chaffed, and called by his companions, ‘il tombio della Madonna’, or ‘arlecchino dello chiesa’. He had to sleep in the same room as the other boys. When at night he was absorbed in prayer they took the opportunity to throw their boots at him, and other things. But he did not take the slightest notice. When he had finished and they had gone to sleep, he always blacked the boots and put them beside their respective beds. Poor little Venanzio had no boots of his own, except the slippers he appeared in at the circus. But that did not mitigate their bitterness against him. Indeed, it was Luigi, whom he by an extraordinary dive had rescued from drowning, who was the most unkind to him of all.

 

Don Egidio said to Francotelli, ‘The Princess Faustina has an extraordinary caprice. She wants that boy of yours (pointing to Venanzio) to go into the lions’ cage. I daresay it's all right. But here one must gratify her caprice, you know.’

‘What! my son? no!’ said Francotelli, ‘certainly not, I never heard of such a thing.’

‘But then she offers you 10,000 francs to gratify her caprice. Again I say probably the lions would not hurt him.’

‘Well let us be fair and square about the whole matter,’ said Francotelli. ‘I tell you frankly Venanzio is not my own flesh and blood. I would not allow one of my own boys to go in there for anything. Then you see if anything happened to him, I should lose a great deal. Because you see he is the best performer in my company. I must have more than that. I can take nothing less than 30,000 francs.’

Don Egidio trembled: his expression was a mixture of remorse and cruelty.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you shall have 40,000. Here they are.’ Francotelli called Venanzio. ‘I want you to go into the lion's cage. I know you have never been there before. But they're really quite tame.’ (‘Good God! they are not,’ he muttered to himself in the hearing of Don Egidio.)

‘Oh yes, certainly,’ said Venanzio, ‘why should I mind going in there?’ And he went, clad in his harlequin's spangles.

The Princess Faustina's yellow eyes dilated, and shone with tigerlike ferocity.

The boy entered the cage: the audience looked astonished and rather frightened. Contrary to everyone's expectation, the lion and the lioness came to him caressingly, nestled themselves against him, and then lay down and licked his feet, while he stroked them. A wild shout of applause broke from the audience. Many of them had turned pale beforehand.

‘Come out, Venanzio; that is enough,’ said Francotelli: and in his nervousness forgot to fasten the cage properly.

Now came Venanzio's great feat. To be shot out of the cannon's mouth, and fly into the air.

‘Well, really!’ said the Princess Faustina; ‘what are we to do for amusement in our time. The wretched lions were quite tame.’

‘Oh no they were not,’ said Don Egidio, with an astonished expression.

‘Well really,’ she replied, ‘you might have managed things better. I won't quarrel with you just this moment, because I am rather in hope some accident may happen in the shooting of the cannon. If he dies after all, it will be amusing, though not so nice as if one could see the blood.’

Now Venanzio was shot from the cannon's mouth. This he had often been before. But this time he saw a strange golden light, stretched out his arms and literally flew towards it, further than the trapeze to which the cannon would take him. Then he fell suddenly down—dead!

‘Ah you see,’ said Faustina, ‘some little fun at last!’

The lions burst out of the cage which had been imperfectly locked, and placed themselves on either side of the fallen form. The audience were terrified, and got away as quickly as they could. In fact, there was a panic. Francotelli came to secure the lions. They growled, as he approached them, and attacked him. So he made his escape as soon as possible.

‘Well,’ said Faustina languidly, ‘as soon as these people have gone, perhaps we'd better go.’

‘No,’ said Egidio, ‘it is my fault, and your fault too! But, I suppose you feel no remorse, and I do. I suppose the poor child began to feel nervous after being in the lion's cage, and forgot to do his trapeze feat in the right way. We were the cause of it.’

Then there was silence between them. Faustina in her box was wholly inaccessible to the lions: and did not mind waiting till the general stampede had ceased. Then Don Egidio, whose face had assumed quite another expression, said, ‘Faustina, I hate you! I think I have always hated you. I am monstrous; but you are more monstrous than I am! I at least will make what reparation I may. I will go down to the arena and be torn up by the lions, to whom I supplied their innocent victim. My sin is greater than I deserve pardon for!’

‘You talk of sin!’ said Faustina. But he was gone. He went into the arena; it seemed to him a sacred light was burning round the child's head. He went and threw himself down and kissed the child's feet: and shed tears, which hehad not done for many a year. The lions did not move. They simply stood guard over the body. Emboldened by this, some of the crowd who had been unable to get away, quickly came up to the corpse: and touched it: also seeing the strange light about the head.

‘Miracolo!’ cried an old woman with crutches: ‘now I can walk!’

‘Miracolo!’ cried a deaf man, ‘now I can hear!’

Don Egidio said, ‘Perhaps there is some pardon for me too.’ He remained there prostrate before the corpse. Nobody could remove him because the lions attacked all those who attempted to do so.

The next morning he was found dead, face downwards, before the body. The lions, who had now become tame, kept guard over Venanzio's body till it was removed, and then went quietly back into their cage.