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What is the name of the best matador you have for to-morrow's show?" "Pepito de Malaga," said Don Enrique, "one of the greatest names, one of the bravest men, in all Spain." "Very well," said the Doctor, "I have a proposal to make to you. I have never fought a bull in my life.
Have I not driven her away from here? What have you to say to that? The rest concerns me; the bull wounded in the arena is at liberty to go to sleep in a corner with the sword of the matador in his shoulder, and die in peace. What can I do, tell me? What do you mean by first comer?
Indeed, at Mexico City, I afterwards saw Bombita, a celebrated Spanish matador, tossed and gored to death. The true ring-bull of fighting breed is a splendid animal; when enraged he does not seem to suffer much from the insertion of banderillas, etc., and his death stab is generally instantaneously fatal.
With the five thousand sequins which my partner Croce had won for me in Padua I had followed M. Bragadin's advice. I had hired a casino where I held a faro bank in partnership with a matador, who secured me against the frauds of certain noblemen tyrants, with whom a private citizen is always sure to be in the wrong in my dear country.
Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters do their matador. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to the venerable orator. He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence.
And then he described Sebastiano. Never before, it appeared from his enthusiasm, had Madrid known such a matador as Sebastiano. Never one so handsome, so dashing, so universally adored. When he appeared in the ring, what a roar of applause went up.
All fight was now out of the bull, and, though it was no vital thrust, he trotted lamely what of the sword that stuck through him, in one side and out the other. He ran away from the matador and the capadors, and circled the edge of the ring, looking up at the many faces. "He is saying: 'For God's sake let me out of this; I don't want to fight," said John Harned. That was all.
In Spanish bull-fights, after the banderillos and picadores have tormented the bull until it is exhausted, the matador flaunts a scarlet cloak in front of the beast until it is bewildered and then despatches it with a sword. In Moroland, however, the bulls, which are bred and trained for the purpose, do their best to kill each other, thus making the fight a much more sporting proposition.
Our matador, the nation's hero, give up pir-r-h if I were Torellas No matter, I tell him to come to the house as before. Luis favors him. I favor him. Old Tina favors him, and, I think I think Valera herself but she is too proud to say. She, also, considers it beseeched him to give up bull-fighting! That was the señora's influence. If he were an ordinary matador but the great Torellas!
When the banderillas are all planted, and the bugles sound for the third time, the matador, the espada, the sword, steps forward with a modest consciousness of distinguished merit, and makes a brief speech to the corregidor, offering in honor of the good city of Madrid to kill the bull.
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