ut Vivillo's name in a temper, the bull might have been
safe. Carmona wouldn't have interested himself, as he trusts his agent in
all business matters. It's true several of the grandee owners of
bull-farms have been asked to give each a picked bull for the royal fight,
which is expected to be the grandest affair of the generation; but Carmona
could as well have given another instead of Vivillo."

"It's like him," I said. "Poor Pilar!"

"She's simply ill. But queerly enough, she hasn't given up hope yet--or
hadn't when she wrote, and enclosed an invitation-ticket she'd contrived
to get for me. She begged me to come if I could, and 'see her through,'
though I haven't the vaguest notion what she means. All I know is, she and
the Cherub have been doing everything they could till the last minute to
make an exchange of bulls. The dear old chap rushed off to Madrid, as I
said, to stir up the police in your affair; and Pilar hoped she might get
a chance to see Lady Monica, and ask what the dickens she meant by
throwing you over. But any spare time the two had, I guess they've put in
for Vivillo. They bought a fine Muira bull, at a tiptop price, and offered
it to the authorities in exchange for Vivillo, who has been at pasture for
the last ten days, recruiting after being boxed up for his long railroad
journey. Whether Carmona had a hand in that part or not, anyhow nothing
could be done."

"And Pilar is going to see her pet die!" I exclaimed.

"I can't understand the Cherub allowing that," said Dick. "I went to a
bull-fight with him the day after I got back to Seville. Jove, it was a
sickener, though there were some fine moments, I admit; and I can
understand how Spaniards, brought up to understand every stroke, every
move, think it fine sport. But it isn't sport for amateurs, and I haven't
been able to swallow beef since; feel as if I'd been on visiting terms
with it. Last touch of horror, each bull having a name. Great Scott! how
would it feel to be as intimate as that with sheep and chickens, so you
could speak of frying Lottie for breakfast, or grilling Maud with peas for
lunch? Of course, the royal bull-fight will be wonderful--something only
seen when a Spanish king marries--but I hate the thought of Pilar being
there."

"Her father'll be with her," I tried to console him.

"No, he won't. His seat's in a box. Hers has been given in _Tendido_
Number 9, a space set apart for the _senoritas de la aristocracia_ to sit
to