oved how terrible was the passion that had thus played
havoc with this man of iron frame.

Hastily opening her fan to conceal her face, she said to Andres in a
hurried voice:

"It is Juancho."

But her movement was too late; the torero had seen her; with his hand he
waved a salutation.

"Juancho it really is!" cried Andres; "the poor fellow is sadly changed;
he has grown ten years older. Ah! _he_ is the new torero, of whom they
talk so much: he has returned to the bull-ring."

"Let us go, Andres," said Militona to her husband. "I know not why, but
I am very uneasy; I feel sure something will happen."

"What can happen," replied Andres, "except the death of horses and the
fall of a few picadores?"

"I fear lest Juancho should commit some extravagance,--some furious
act."

"You cannot forget that unlucky stab, or lucky one, I should rather call
it, since to it I owe my present happiness." And Andres tenderly pressed
the hand of his bride, to whose cheeks the blood that for an instant had
left them, now began to return. "If you knew Latin--which you
fortunately do not--I would tell you that the law of _non bis in idem_
guarantees my safety. Besides the honest fellow has had time to calm
himself."

Juancho performed prodigies. He behaved as if invulnerable; took bulls
by the tail and made them waltz, put his foot between their horns and
leaped over them, tore off the ribbons with which they were adorned,
planted himself right in their path and harassed them with unparalleled
audacity. The delighted spectators were outrageous in their applause,
and swore that such a bull-fight had never been witnessed since the days
of the Cid Campeador. The other bull-fighters, electrified by the
example of their chief, seemed equally reckless of danger. The picadores
advanced to the very centre of the circus, the banderillos drove their
darts into the flanks of the bull without once missing. When any of them
were hard pressed, Juancho was ever at hand, prompt to distract the
attention of the furious beast, and draw its anger on himself. One of
the chulos fell, and would have been ripped from navel to chin, had not
Juancho, at risk of his life, forced the bull from its victim. Every
thrust he gave was delivered with such skill and force that the sword
entered exactly between the shoulders, and disappeared to the hilt. The
bulls fell at his feet as though struck by lightning, and a second blow
was never once required.

"_Caramb