mmanded all these combatants, and wore the most luxurious costumes.

"Pepe Vera! here is Pepe Vera!" cried all the spectators. "The scholar
of Montes! Brave boy! What a jovial fellow! how well he is made! what
elegance and vivacity in all his person! how firm his look! what a calm
eye!"

"Do you know," said a young man seated near to Stein, "what is the
lesson Montes gives to his scholars? He pushes them, their arms crossed,
close to the bull, and says to them, 'Do not fear the bull--brave the
bull!'"

Pepe Vera descended into the arena. His costume was of cherry-colored
satin, with shoulder-knots and silver embroidery in profusion. From the
little pockets of his vest stuck out the points of orange-colored
scarfs. A waistcoat of rich tissue of silver and a pretty little cap of
velvet completed his coquettish and charming costume of majo.

After having saluted the authorities with much ease and grace, he went
like the other combatants to take his accustomed place. The three
picadores also went to their posts, at equal distance from each other,
near to the barrier. There was then a profound, an imposing silence. One
might have said that this crowd, lately so noisy, had suddenly lost the
faculty of breathing.

The alcalde gave the signal, the clarions sounded, and as if the trumpet
of the Last Judgment had been heard, all the spectators arose with most
perfect ensemble; and suddenly was seen opened the large door of the
toril, placed opposite to the box occupied by the authorities. A bull
whose hide was red precipitated himself into the arena, and was assailed
by a universal explosion of cheers, of cries, of abuse, and of praise.
At this terrible noise the bull, affrighted, stopped short, raised his
head; his eyes were inflamed, and seemed to demand if all these
provocations were addressed to him; to him, the athletic and powerful,
who until now had been generous towards man, and who had always shown
favor towards him as to a feeble and weak enemy. He surveyed the ground,
turning his menacing head on all sides--he still hesitated: the cheers,
shrill and penetrating, became more and more shrill and frequent. Then
with a quickness which neither his weight nor his bulk foretold, he
sprang towards the picador, who planted a lance in his withers. The bull
felt a sharp pain, and soon drew back. It was one of those animals which
in the language of bull-fighting are called "boyantes," that is to say,
undecided and wavering; w