Edward paid his twenty-five cents and entered the crowded tent. An evil-looking rascal, dressed in a white surgical coat, and with a stethoscope hung round his neck, was at that moment signalling for the curtain to be drawn aside.
A low dais was exposed, and on it a hospital bed, at the head of which stood a sinister trollop tricked out in the uniform of a nurse.
Here we have, said the pseudo-doctor, the miracle that has baffled the scientists of the entire world. He continued his rigmarole. Edward gazed at the face on the pillow. It was, beyond any question at all, the most exquisite face he had ever seen in his life.
Well, folks, said the impresario, I just want you to know, for the sake of the reputation of the scientific profession, that there has been absolutely no deception in the announcement made to you that this young lady is A, asleep, and B, beautiful. Lest you should be speculating on whether her recumbent posture, maintained night and day for five years, has been the cause of shrinkage or wasting of the limbs, hips, or bust Nurse, be so good as to turn back that sheet.
The nurse, grinning like a bulldog, pulled back the grubby cotton and revealed the whole form of this wonderful creature, clad in a diaphanous nightgown, and lying in the most graceful, fawn-like posture you can possibly imagine.
If, thought Edward, all my woods and fields, instead of bursting into bluebells and cowslips and wild roses and honeysuckle, had hoarded their essences through the centuries to produce one single flower, this would be the flower. He paused to allow the genius loci, which had been so arbitrary on other occasions, to voice any objections it might have. None was forthcoming.
My friends, the abominable showman was saying, world science having got nowhere in waking this beautiful young lady from her trance which has lasted five years, I want to remind you of a little story you maybe heard around that dear old Mamma's knee, about how the Sleeping Beauty woke right up saying, 'Yummy,' when Prince Charming happened along with his kiss.
There's no doubt, thought Edward, that if all the good-night kisses and candlelight visions and dreams and desires that have gleamed and faded in that faded little nursery ever since the day it was built were fused into one angelic presence, this is she.
Top medical attention costing plenty, as you very well know, continued the showman, we are prepared, for the fee of one quarter deposited in the bowl on the bedside table, to allow any gentleman in the audience to step up and take his try at being Prince Charming. Take your places in the queue, boys, and avoid the crush.
Shaking his head, Edward pushed his way out of the tent and returned to Mergler's Hotel, where he sat in his bedroom devoured by rage and shame. Why should I be ashamed? Because I didn't try to make a fight of it? No, said he, that would be ridiculous. All the same, there's something . . . something disgusting. It isn't it can't be that I want to kiss her myself! That would be vile, base, despicable! Then why, in the name of all that's shy, wild, lovely, and innocent, am I walking back to this unspeakable spectacle?
I'll turn back in a moment. This time I'll take my bags to the station, and sit on them, and wait for that train. In an hour I'll be on my way home.
But what is my home? he cried almost aloud. What was it made for, but to be a shell, a dwelling place for this creature and no other? Or the image of her, the dream of her, the memory of her, that I could take home on my lips and live with forever, if I kissed her just once. And that, by God, is what I will do!
At this moment he had arrived at the booth, just as a lip-licking audience was issuing forth. Very good, said Edward. The curtain will be lowered while the tent fills up again, I'll arrange to have a moment alone with her.
He found the back entrance, and squeezed through a narrow flap in the canvas. The doctor and the nurse were taking a little refreshment between shows.
Other way in, Buddy, said the doctor. Unless you're the Press, that is.
Listen, said Edward, I want to spend a few minutes alone with this girl.
Yeah? said the doctor, observing Edward's flushed face and breathless speech.
I can pay you, said Edward.
Stool-pigeon vice-squad, observed the nurse in a level tone.
Listen, Buddy, said the doctor, you don't want to muscle in here with a low-down immoral proposition like that.
I'm an Englishman! cried Edward. How can I be a member of the vice-squad or anything else?
The nurse examined Edward with prolonged and expert attention. O.K., she said at last.
O.K. nothing, said the doctor.
O.K. a hundred bucks, said the nurse.
A hundred bucks? said the doctor. Listen, son, we all been young once. You want a private interview maybe you are the Press with this interesting young lady. Well, could be. A hundred bucks, cash on the barrel head, for what do you say, Nurse?
The nurse examined Edward again. Ten minutes, said she.
Ten minutes, continued the doctor to Edward. After twelve o'clock tonight, when we close down.
No. Now, said Edward. I've got to catch a tram.
Yeah? said the doctor. And have some guy sticking his long nose in to see why we don't begin on time. No, sir! There's ethics in this profession the show goes on. Scram! Twelve o'clock. Open up, Dave!
Edward filled in part of the time by watching the thickening crowds file into the booth. At nightfall he went away and sat down by the stinking creek, holding his head in his hands and waiting for the endless hours to drag by. The sunken water oozed past, darkly. The night over the great flat of lifeless clay was heavy with a stale and sterile heat, the lights of the fair glared in the distance, and the dark water crept on.
At last the blaze of lights was extinguished. A few were left; even these began to wink out one by one, like sparks on a piece of smouldering paper. Edward got up like a somnambulist and made his way back to the fair.
The doctor and the nurse were eating silently and voraciously when he entered. The single harsh light in the tent, falling on their ill-coloured faces and their fake uniforms, gave them the appearance of waxworks, or corpses come to fife, while the girl lying in the bed, with the flush of health on her cheeks and her hair in a lovely disorder, looked like a creature of the fresh wind, caught in this hideous stagnation by some enchantment, waiting for a deliverer.
Here is the money, said Edward. Where can I be alone with her?
Push the bed through the curtain, said the doctor. We'll turn the radio on.
Edward was alone with the beauty for which he, and his whole life, and his house, and his land, were made. He moistened his handkerchief and wiped away the blurred lipstick from her mouth.
He tried to clear his mind, to make it as blank as a negative film, so that he could photograph upon it each infinitely fine curve of cheek and lip, the sweep of the dreaming lashes and the tendrils of the enchanted hair.
Suddenly, to his horror, he found his eyes were dimming with tears. He had made his mind a blank in order to photograph a goddess, and now his whole being was flooded with pity for a girl. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.
It is the fate of those who kiss sleeping beauties to be awakened themselves: Edward jerked aside the curtain and went through.
On time, said the doctor approvingly.
How much, said Edward, will you take for that girl?
Hear that? said the doctor to the nurse. He wants to buy the act
Sell, said the nurse.
Never did like her, did you? said the doctor.
Twelve grand, said the nurse.