e bull was at last properly worked up. Torellas took his final stand.
His feet were well apart, but not too far apart, body and legs set so
that he could have leaped instantly forward, backward, sideways. Cogan,
watching, thought what a painting, or better, what a bit of sculpture
could have been made of him so. He was standing on the balls of his
feet, with his torso canted slightly forward from the waist. His head
was forward, too, but inclining a little to one side, toward his right
shoulder. His eyes were so narrowed that they could hardly be seen, but
the glitter of them was plain enough. The sword up to this time he held
loose in his right hand, palm up and shoulder-high, with the blade
horizontal, the point toward the bull. His left arm held forward, well
clear of the body, was the final effect in the miracle of his balance.
Standing like that, he was planted solidly enough on the earth, but he
gave out, too, such an impression of energy, force, power bottled up,
that he made you feel that he could fly if he tried.

"Standing so, he didn't seem to breathe. But the crowd were breathing
for him. From the seats behind him Cogan could hear, almost feel, their
hot breaths.

"The bull now stopped and studied this last enemy. The others had come
at him in groups, but here was one all alone.

"The bull stood with half-lowered head, weaving it from side to side,
like when from behind the barrier he first appeared to the crowd. He
eyed the red cape. It must have flamed like blood in the sun to him. His
nostrils, his eyes, were flaming like blood, too. He ceased his weaving,
raised, lowered his head, and bounded toward Torellas. And everybody
there knew that it was the bull or the matador this time. The red cape
of the matador seemed to leap forward, no loose ends now for a flying
horn to catch, but a tight roll around the matador's left forearm.
Standing now four feet away Torellas, to blind the charging bull as the
capeadors had done, had to step close in. And now he was close in and
his forearm was across the bull's forehead. It was hard to follow, the
action was so fast, but Cogan saw that Torellas was already between his
horns. Cogan looked for the flash of the heavy blade, but already
Torellas' right arm had gone forward, that eye of his had marked the
little vital spot, and, as the bull lowered his head and lunged to gore
him, the blade was driven forward, and onto the point of it rushed the
bull. The blade went ho