The duke had procured for Stein and his wife a boarding-house kept by a
poor but honest family. The good German had found in the drawer of a
bureau, which they had given him the key of when he took possession of
his apartments, a sum of money which would have sufficed for his wants,
however exaggerated. This money was accompanied by a note thus worded:
“Here is the just tribute due to the service of a surgeon. Sincere
gratitude and friendship alone can recompense the care and the
watchfulness of a friend.”
Stein was transfixed with confusion.
“Ah! Mariquita,” he cried, showing this writing to his wife, “this man
is grand in all he does. He is grand by his race, grand in heart, grand
in his virtues. Like God he raises to his height the small and the
humble. He calls me his friend, I who am a poor surgeon; he speaks to me
of gratitude, I who am overwhelmed with benefits!”
“What is all this gold to him?” replied the Gaviota; “a man who has
millions, as the hostess tells me, and whose farms are large as
provinces! And without you would he not have remained a cripple all his
life?”
The duke entered at that moment. He cut short the expressions of
gratitude of which Stein was prodigal, and addressed himself to
Marisalada--
“I came,” he said, “to ask a favor; will you refuse me, Maria?”
“What could we refuse you?” quickly replied Don Frederico.
“Very well, then,” continued the duke. “Maria, I have promised one of my
intimate friends, that you will go and sing at her house.”
Maria made no reply.
“She will go, without any doubt,” said Stein. “Maria has not received
from heaven a gift so precious, a voice so admirable, without incurring
the obligation to let others of the same tastes participate.”
“It is then a thing agreed upon,” added the duke. “As you, Stein, are as
good a pianist as distinguished flutist, you will have this evening a
piano at your disposal, with a collection of the best gems of the modern
opera. Thus you can choose those which please you the most, and study
them; for Maria must triumph and be covered with glory. On this evening
will depend her reputation as a singer.”
At these last words a light sparkled in the eyes of the Gaviota.
“Will you sing, Maria?” asked the duke of her.
“And why not?” she replied.
“I know,” said the duke, “that you have already seen all that Seville
contains remarkable. Stein nourishes his enthusiasm, and he knows
Seville at his fingers’ ends; but what you have not yet seen is a
bull-fight. Here are tickets for that of this evening. I depend on you,
my friends--you will be near me: I wish to witness the impression this
spectacle will produce.”
They conversed together some time longer, and then the duke retired.
When after dinner Stein and his wife arrived at the place assigned for
the bull-fight, they found it already filled with people. A brief and
sustained animation preceded the _fête_. This immense rendezvous, where
were gathered together all the population of the city and its environs;
this agitation, like to that of the blood which in the paroxysms of a
violent passion rushes to the heart; this feverish expectation, this
frantic excitement, kept, however, within the limits of order; these
exclamations, petulant without insolence; this deep anxiety which gives
a quivering to pleasure; all this together formed a species of moral
magnetism: one must succumb to its force, or hasten to fly from it.
Stein, struck with vertigo, and his heart wrung, would have chosen
flight: his timidity kept him where he was. He saw in all eyes which
were turned on him the glowing of joy and happiness; he dare not appear
singular. Twelve thousand persons were assembled in this place; the rich
were thrown in the shade, and the varied colors of the costumes of the
Andalusian people were reflected in the rays of the sun.
Soon the arena was cleared.
Then came forward the _picadores_, mounted on their unfortunate horses,
who, with head lowered, and sorrowful eyes, seemed to be--and were in
reality--victims marching to the sacrifice.
Stein, at the appearance of these poor animals, felt himself change to a
painful compassion; a species of disgust which he already experienced.
The provinces of the Peninsula which he had traversed hitherto, were
devastated by the civil war, and he had had no opportunity of seeing
these _fêtes_ so grand, so national, and so popular, where were united
to the brilliant Moorish strategy the ferocious intrepidity of the
Gothic race. But he had often heard these spectacles spoken of, and he
knew that the merit of a fight is generally estimated by the number of
horses that are slain. His pity was excited towards these poor animals
which, after having rendered great services to their masters, after
having conferred on them triumph, and perhaps saved their lives, had for
their recompense, when age and the excess of work had exhausted their
strength, an atrocious death which, by a refinement of cruelty, they
were obliged themselves to seek. Instinct made them seek this death;
some resisted, while others, more resigned or more feeble, went docilely
before them to abridge their agony. The sufferings of these unfortunate
animals touched the hardest heart; but the _amateurs_ had neither eyes,
attention, nor interest, except for the bull. They were under a real
fascination, which communicated itself to most of the strangers who came
to Spain, and principally for this barbarous amusement. Besides, it must
be avowed, and we avow it with grief, that compassion for animals is, in
Spain, particularly among the men, a sentiment more theoretical than
practical. Among the lower classes it does not exist at all.
The three _picadores_ saluted the president of the _fête_, preceded by
the _banderilleros_ and the _chulos_, splendidly dressed, and carrying
the _capas_ of bright and brilliant colors. The _matadores_ and their
substitutes commanded all these combatants, and wore the most luxurious
costumes.
“Pepe Vera! here is Pepe Vera!” cried all the spectators. “The scholar
of Montés! 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 Montés 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 the 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 his 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. It is for that he did not persist in his first attack, but
assailed the second _picador_. This one was not so well prepared as the
first, and the thrust of his lance was neither so correct nor so firm;
he wounded the animal without being able to arrest his advance. The
horns of the bull were buried in the body of the horse, who fell to the
ground. A cry of fright was raised on all sides, and the _chulos_
surrounded this horrible group; but the ferocious animal had seized his
prey, and would not allow himself to be distracted from his vengeance.
In this moment of terror, the cries of the multitude were united in one
immense clamor, which would have filled the city with fright, if it had
not come from the place of the bull-fight. The danger became more
frightful as it was prolonged.
The bull tenaciously attacked the horse, who was overwhelmed with his
weight and with his convulsive movements, while the unfortunate
_picador_ was crushed beneath these two enormous masses. Then was seen
to approach, light as a bird with brilliant plumage, tranquil as a child
who goes to gather flowers, calm and smiling at the same time, a young
man, covered with silver embroidery, and sparkling like a star. He
approached in the rear of the bull; and this young man of delicate
frame, and of appearance so distinguished, took in both hands the tail
of the terrible animal, and drew it towards him. The bull, surprised,
turned furiously, and precipitated himself on his adversary, who,
without a movement of his shoulder, and stepping backwards, avoided the
first shock by a half-wheel to the right.
The bull attacked him anew; the young man escaped a second time by
another half wheel to the left, continuing to manage him until he
reached the barrier. There he disappeared from the eyes of the
astonished animal, and from the anxious gaze of the public, who in the
intoxication of their enthusiasm filled the air with their frantic
applause: for we are always ardently impressed when we see man play with
death, and brave it with so much coolness.
“See now if he has not well followed the lesson of Montés! See if Pepe
Vera knows how to act with the bull!” said the young man seated near to
them, and who was hoarse from crying out.
The duke at this moment fixed his attention on Marisalada. Since the
arrival of this young woman at the capital of Andalusia, it was the
first time that he had remarked any emotion on this cold and disdainful
countenance. Until now he had never seen her animated. The rude
organization of Marisalada was too vulgar to receive the exquisite
sentiment of admiration. There was in her character too much
indifference and pride to permit her to be taken by surprise. She was
astonished at nothing, interested in nothing. To excite her, be it ever
so little, to soften some part of this hard metal, it was necessary to
employ fire, and to use the hammer.
Stein was pale. “My lord duke,” he said, with an air full of sweetness
and of conviction, “is it possible that this diverts you?”
“No,” replied the duke, “it does not divert, it interests me.”
During this brief dialogue they had raised up the horse. The poor animal
could not stand on his legs; his intestines protruded, and bespattered
the ground. The _picador_ was also raised up; he was removed between the
arms of the _chulos_. Furious against the bull, and, led on by a blind
temerity, he would at all hazards remount his horse and return to the
attack, in spite of the dizziness produced by his fall. It was
impossible to dissuade him; they saw him indeed replace the saddle upon
the poor victim, into the bruised flanks of which he dug his spurs.
“My lord duke,” said Stein, “I may perhaps appear to you ridiculous, but
I do not wish to remain at this spectacle. Maria, shall we depart?”
“No,” replied Maria, whose soul seemed to be concentrated in her eyes.
“Am I a little miss? and are you afraid that, by accident, I may faint?”
“In such case,” said Stein, “I will come back and take you when the
course is finished.”
And he departed.
The bull had disposed of a sufficiently good number of horses. The
unfortunate courser which we have mentioned, was taken away, rather
drawn than led, by the bridle to the door, by which he made his retreat.
The other, which had not the strength again to stand up, lay stretched
out in the convulsions of agony; sometimes they stretched out their
heads as though impelled by terror. At these last signs of life, the
bull returned to the charge, wounding anew with plunges of his horns the
bruised members of his victims. Then, his forehead and horns all bloody,
he walked around the circus affecting an air of provocation and
defiance: at times he proudly raised his head towards the amphitheatre,
where the cries did not cease to be heard; sometimes it was towards the
brilliant _chulos_ who passed before him like meteors, planting their
_banderillas_ in his body. Often from a cage, or from a netting hidden
in the ornaments of a _banderillero_, came out birds, which joyously
took up their flight. The first inventor of this strange and singular
contrast, could not certainly have had the intention to symbolize
innocence without defence rising above the horrors and ferocious
passions here below, in its happy flight towards heaven. That would be,
without doubt, one of those poetic ideas which are born spontaneously in
the hard and cruel heart of the Spanish plebeian, as we see in Andalusia
the mignonette plant really flourish between the stones and the mortar
of a balcony.
At the signal given by the president of the course, the clarions again
sounded. There was a moment of truce in this bloody wrestling, and it
created a perfect silence.
Then Pepe Vera, holding in his left hand a sword and a red-hooded cloak,
advanced near to the box of the alcalde. Arrived opposite, he stopped
and saluted, to demand permission to slay the bull.
Pepe Vera perceived the presence of the duke, whose taste for the
bull-fight was well known; he had also remarked the woman who was seated
at his side, because this woman, to whom the duke frequently spoke,
never took her eyes off the matador.
He directed his steps towards the duke, and taking off his cap, said:
“_Brindo_ (I offer the honor of the bull) to you, my lord, and to the
royal person who is near you.”
At these words, casting his cap on the ground with an inimitable
_abandon_, he returned to his post.
The _chulos_ regarded him attentively, all ready to execute his orders.
The matador chose the spot which suited him the best, and indicated it
to his _quadrilla_.
“Here!” he cried out to them.
The _chulos_ ran towards the bull and excited him, and in pursuing them
met Pepe Vera, face to face, who had waited his approach with a firm
step. It was the solemn moment of the whole fight. A profound silence
succeeded to the noisy tumult, and to the warm excitement which until
then had been exhibited towards the matador.
The bull, on seeing this feeble enemy, who had laughed at his fury,
stopped as if he wished to reflect. He feared without doubt that he
would escape him a second time.
Whoever had entered into the circus at this moment, would sooner believe
he was assisting in a solemn religious assembly, than in a public
amusement, so great was the silence.
The two adversaries regarded each other reciprocally.
Pepe Vera raised his left hand: the bull sprang on him. Making only a
light movement, the matador let him pass by his side, returned and put
himself on guard. When the animal turned upon him, the man directed his
sword towards the extremity of the shoulder, so that the bull continuing
his advance, powerfully aided the steel to penetrate completely into his
body.
It was done! He fell lifeless at the feet of his vanquisher.
To describe the general burst of cries and bravos which broke forth from
every part of this vast area, would be a thing absolutely impossible.
Those who are accustomed to be present at these spectacles, alone can
form an idea of it. At the same time were heard the strains of the
military bands.
Pepe Vera tranquilly traversed the arena in the midst of these frantic
testimonials of passionate admiration, and of this unanimous ovation,
saluting with his sword right and left in token of his acknowledgments.
This triumph, which might have excited the envy of a Roman emperor, in
him did not excite the least surprise--the least pride. He then went to
salute the _ayuntamiento_; then the duke, and the “_royal_” young lady.
The duke then secretly handed to Maria a purse full of gold, and she
enveloped it in her handkerchief, and cast it into the arena.
Pepe Vera again renewed his thanks, and the glance of his black eyes met
those of the Gaviota. In describing the meeting of these looks, a
classic writer said, that it wounded these two hearts as profoundly as
Pepe Vera wounded the bull.
We who have not the temerity to ally ourselves to this severe and
intolerant school, we simply say that these two natures were made to
understand each other--to sympathize. They in fact did understand and
sympathize.
It is true to say that Pepe had done admirably.
All that he had promised in a situation where he placed himself between
life and death, had been executed with an address, an ease, a dexterity,
and a grace, which had not been baffled for an instant.
For such a task it is necessary to have an energetic temperament and a
daring courage, joined to a certain degree of self-possession, which
alone can command twenty-four thousand eyes which observe, and
twenty-four thousand hands which applaud.