This is my ending to the story The Lady or the Tiger. It starts just after the princess has pointed to the right.

The princess’s lover turned swiftly and, carefully but purposefully began moving hesitantly towards the doors. The common people in the stands stiffened, hanging on every step he took, watching, waiting. The arena was perfectly silent except for the soft sound of the man’s feet, landing slowly on the fulsatly, dirt-covered ground. Every eye was locked on the young man’s face, looking for some sign of fear, or nervousness, or anger. But the people were rewarded with nothing. No hint of any emotion in his eyes. In the silence, the people suddenly realized that there was a sense of fear among themselves, too. Fear and anxiety. One could almost smell it. This also led to the discovery that no one really wanted him to ever reach those dreaded doors. But he was almost there. Just a few more steps. The people sucked in their breaths, willing him to turn, to run. Somewhere. But he kept his pace. And slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he reached the huge doors, took a breath, and reached for the intricately carved handle on the right door, looming over him like the shadow of chance itself. The door creaked and groaned and finally swung open, reviling the man’s fate. The people’s jaws dropped, almost bumping the floor as they gazed in wonder at the man’s great luck. And that was when the king, who had also been watching the man, a smile creeping across his face, realized it. His daughter was not in her seat. She was confidently stepping out of the hidden enclosure, her eyes blazing with a mischievous light, the beautiful, unconscious maid, lying in a heap behind her.