The arena of the king was built, not to give the people an opportunity of hearing the rhapsodies of dying gladiators, nor to enable them to view the inevitable conclusion of a conflict between religious opinions and hungry jaws, but for purposes far better adapted to widen and develop the mental energies of the people. The vast amphitheater, with its encircling galleries, its mysterious vaults, and its unseen passages, was an agent of poetic justice, in which crime was punished, or virtue rewarded, by the decrees of an impartial and incorruptible chance.
The passage above shows us the king's intention in building the public arena—an idea which he has borrowed from his civilized Latin neighbors. However, unlike his Latin neighbors, this arena is not meant for the public to watch gladiators or test religious figures. Instead, it is meant to act as the kingdom's justice system where those who are accused of a crime must face "an impartial and incorruptible chance."
Think about a justice system that is completely in the hands of chance. The role of the judge or jury is completely removed; instead, the luck of the man accused of a crime determines that man's fate. In this way, what the king employs is not true justice and instead a kind of "poetic justice" that almost arbitrarily punishes or rewards those who are submitted to it.
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.
This passage explains that in normal trials, the prisoner's fate is completely in his hands. He has the power to decide which door he will choose; no one has the power to tell him which door is hiding the tiger and which door is hiding the lady. His fate is entirely in the hands of chance—a force which cannot be corrupted and which does not care what the result will be.
Does this kind of judgment seem fair? Perhaps an advantage of this kind of system of justice is that it completely removes any bias in deciding the fate of the prisoner. Chance is "impartial" (i.e. not biased), and it has no stake in whether or not the prisoner lives or dies. In a normal trial (one in which no one, not even the king, knows what is hiding behind the doors), there is a perfect 50% chance of the prisoner living or dying. Of course, the con is that criminals may not be punished for their crimes. Additionally, innocent men may be killed even though they have done nothing wrong.
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.
If the prisoner chooses the door that is hiding the lady, he is automatically celebrated as an innocent man. He is immediately exonerated (i.e. forgiven) for the crimes he has been accused of. His slate is entirely cleared. However, his "reward" may not actually benefit him at all. He is forced to marry the lady on the spot, no matter if he already has a family or loves another.
The king's power is so absolute that every one of his whims is succumbed to by the rest of the kingdom. One of these said whims is that the entire kingdom must watch the prisoner get married to the princess.
Marrying someone who has been chosen for you and whom you may not love is undoubtedly preferable to death-by-tiger. However, it also does constitute its own imprisonment, as you are being forced into a marriage that you did not choose and from which there is no possible escape.
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 on the princess, who sat to the right of her father.
In this passage, the princess's lover, the handsome and brave courtier, steps into the arena, ready to face his trial. Like every prisoner before him, he bows in deference to the king before he chooses a door. However, instead of directing his gaze to the king, his eyes are on the princess who is sitting to his right. She is the object of his love—he has quite literally risked his life in order to love her.
This moment holds great tension: it is the last time that the princess and the courtier will be able to look at each other as lovers. In a few moments, the princess's love will give way either to marriage with another or to his death. He will be unable to love her ever again.
Her right arm lay on the cushioned parapet before her. She raised her hand, and she 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 firm and rapid step he walked across the empty space.
The princess uses a tiny gesture to point the courtier towards the door on the right. He proceeds towards it confidently and without caution. He does not question her directive and instead confidently goes in the direction she sends him in.
The narrator explicitly establishes that the courtier knows the princess well. He knows her so well, in fact, that he can read the fact that she has found out what is behind the doors from a simple glance: "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" (49).
Some readers read the above passage, paired with the one below, to indicate that the princess sent the courtier the door that would hide his bride-to-be. However, the story seems to suggest that the princess would as soon as send the courtier to his death as have to share him with another.
The reader is left wondering: is the courtier's confidence at this moment misplaced? Has he misread the princess? Or, because of his deep connection with the princess, did he know what she would choose before she had even made the choice herself?
The more we reflect upon the 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?
In the final moments of "The Lady, or the Tiger?" the narrator has us consider the solution to the puzzle ourselves. The narrator cautions readers who want to solve the problem by thinking about what they would do if they were in the princess's shoes. He reminds us in the passage above of the princess's character, which is "semi-barbaric," like her father's. She is prone to intense emotions which are being felt even more fully in this time of despair. We must ask ourselves what someone like that would do in that moment.
This question has us consider many different underlying elements within the world of the story that perhaps are not immediately apparent. For example, one must consider the princess's incredible power as the second-most powerful character in this fictional world. The princess is a person who has been granted everything that she wants, in accordance with her elevated position in life. However, she has been denied that which she wants most in the world. How might a person like that react to this unexpected disappointment or heartbreak? Would that person be able to share their love with another?
