ll be taken in a triumphant procession through the streets of
London, guarded upon all sides by the police, and the whole proceedings
throughout will be sufficiently ridiculous to cause me the acutest
discomfort, all of which will be most undeserved and brought upon me by
the extravagant adulation of my would-be admirers. However, I shall
have to comfort myself in that time to come by considering that I am
not the only victim who has been sacrificed from the same cause.'

"'Apart from the deep mystery attached to your strange prophecies,'
observed the Alderman, 'which I do not pretend at present to
understand, but which nevertheless I know will all come true, I am
truly concerned about one thing. Are you really serious, Lal, in your
intention of never speaking to me again? I feel the loss will be
irreparable, for you have always been my wisest councillor from my
boyhood upwards, and I only wish I had profited by your wisdom before
and listened more attentively to your counsels in the past, whatever
alterations I make in my life for the future.'

"'I shall never actually speak with either of you again,' replied Lal,
'but you will be able to live all your youthful days over again in
him;' here Lal pointed to me. 'You can help him to avoid all the
mistakes you have made yourself; yet do not misunderstand me, I shall
give both of you a sign, and an unmistakable sign, to show how pleased
I am if you fulfil all the expectations I shall have cherished about
you.'

"'What sort of sign?' asked the Alderman.

"'I shall not tell you now, and you will both have to do an awful lot
before I show you the sign that I am satisfied with you eventually.'

"Now let me see,' mused the Alderman, 'isn't there any little thing we
could do for you to show that we hadn't forgotten you?'

"'You know what I expect of you,' retorted the Lion, 'keep your
promises.'

"'Apart from that,' suggested the Alderman, 'some sort of memento, some
sort of recognition.'

"'Oh, no,' hastily interposed Lal, 'no recognition, please, it is the
one thing I dread most in the world owing to the curious position I
occupy in public life. However, in the years to come, if you can
reasonably and truthfully look back upon all you have accomplished with
a certain amount of justifiable pride and satisfaction, you can come
here quietly one night and place a big wreath of water-lilies; lay them
as an offering between my paws; on no account hang them round my neck