hich resounded mournfully on the
pavement, and ran up to Andres, whose face was now in the full
moonlight, and whom he at once recognised.

"What do you here at this hour?" said the bull-fighter, in a voice that
trembled with passion.

"I listen to your music; it is a refined amusement."

"If you listened, you heard that I allow no one to set foot in this
street when I sing."

"I am naturally very disobedient," replied Andres, with perfect
coolness.

"You will change your character to-day."

"Certainly not--I am attached to my habits."

"Defend yourself, then, or die!" cried Juancho, drawing his knife, and
rolling his cloak round his arm. His movements were imitated by Andres,
who placed himself on guard with a promptness that showed knowledge of
the weapon, and somewhat surprised the bull-fighter. Andres had long
practised the _navaja_ under one of the best teachers in Seville, as at
Paris one sees young men of fashion take lessons of _savate_ and
singlestick, reduced to mathematical principles by Lecourt and Boucher.

Juancho hovered about his adversary, advancing his left arm, protected
by numerous folds of cloth, as a buckler, his right drawn back to give
more swing and force to the blow; now stooping with knees bent, then
rising up like a giant, and again sinking down like a dwarf; but the
point of his knife was always met by the cloaked arm of Andres.
Alternately retreating and suddenly and impetuously attacking, he sprang
right and left, balancing his blade on his hand, as though about to hurl
it at his foe. Andres replied several times to these varied attacks by
such rapid and well-directed thrusts, that a less adroit combatant than
Juancho would hardly have parried them. It was truly a fine fight, and
worthy a circle of spectators learned in the art; but, unfortunately,
the windows were all closed, and the street was empty. Academicians of
San Lucar, of the Potro of Cordova, of the Albaycin of Granada, and of
the _barrio_ of Triana,[12] why were ye not there to witness the doughty
deeds of those valiant champions?

The two champions, vigorous though they were, grew fatigued with such
violent exertions; the sweat streamed from their temples, their breasts
heaved like the bellows of a forge, their feet were heavier on the
ground, their movements less elastic. Juancho felt the point of Andres'
knife pierce his sleeve, and his rage redoubled; with a desperate bound,
and at risk of his life, he sprang, li