A TALE OF THE BULL RING

Waikato Times, Volume 2641, Issue 2641, 15 June 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

A TALE OF THE BULL RING

I was early in my seat, for I like, aboye all things, to see the motley crowd of sunburned Spaniards come trooping to their national game. I was not in the sombra or shady seat?, for I prefer to take ray place among the crowd, one of whom I almost am now, and, moreover, what right has a poDiiilcss young , artist to spend a ' dollar on seeing a bull fight.? How noisy and hot and dusty they all Hooked as they trooped in and took their seats around me ! I was surprised at tho crowd; there was no preat matador ignjing to kill bulls to-day, yet all the ehiaper sellts wele fiN' n rTI -asked my neighbour, a peasant iu a Tint black hat, breeches, and highly ■decortted gaiters and a bright waistunnt, -and wearing his coat slung from the shuiiiaers : " Stmor," I said, "can you toll mo ; why fo many puoplo are hero to-day ':" Hβ-looked at me for a moment with ati expression of surprise. " You do not Iceow !" he spoko with a strong AndaUisian accent. "Sebastian •jvill kill the bull." "Sebastian ?" I said. " Soror, do not think mo ignorant, but I know no bull fighter of that name." He laughed. "Hehas never killed a bull before; to-day is hi? firat, Hβ comes from this

part; that is why every one is here." Then he added: "I will tell you his story. Sebastian is only a muleteer, who once a week drives a caravan of mules from his mountain village to this town. Once a week he comes with his burden of fruit. Butho is poor; the mules are not his; he only works for another." He paused for a moment and he added :

" you are a stranger here ?" " Vee," I said. " I only arrived yesterday." " Then you do not know Juanita—La Bella Juanita we call her;" He did not wait for mo to answer his question, but continued: "Every one falls in love with Junnita, and Sebastian, like the rent did too. He prayed and besought her to marry him, but sho i 3 too proud, and would not look at the humble muleteer. But after a time hie handsome face and oft repeated tale impressed her; so *he told him she would marry him if he would kill a bull at to-day's fair. But hush ! here she is."

I turned in the direction in which he was pointing, and gazed with astonishment at one of the most lovely creatures

it has ever been my lot to see. All eyes were fixed on her, yet she was as impassive as if she were alone and unnoticed. Her light golden hair—not uncommon among Spaniards — was bound up high upon her head, and surmounted by a dark crimson rose, which held in its place her mantilla of black lace ; her dress was open slightly at the neck, and showed a wonderfully chWled throat; her arms, too, were bare

from the elbow, and rivalled in exquisite whiteness the shape of her neck ; her drc."3 was of black lucn, while loosely

thrown over one shoulder was an embroidered shawl. It. surprised itir that ono of her station should be so well dressed, though it was not tho dress that struck one so forcibly—it was those great gray eyes and dfirk lashos ; the curved eyo browse tho aquiline nose, the perfect bow shaped lips.

She took her seat among the common people, whp made way for her on every side, but whom she entirely ignored. No sooner was she settled than she drew out a great fan of black lace, which she opened and closed in regular monotony, leaning back with a weary look in her half closed eyes and a smile on her brilliant lips.

It was time the bull fight commenced, and already the impatient Spaniards were shouting and calling. Clear above the music of the band rang out the notes of a bugle. A great folding gate was thrown open and the procession entered —five matadors and four picadors, the latter mounted on their horses, which looked wcil weary of the life they were so soon to end.

Four of tho matadors wore professionals ; the fifth—to whom wus given tho place of honor in the centre and slightly ahead—was Sebastian. All eyes were turned on him. Pale—paler, doubtless, from the scarlet and gold costume he was wearing—but dignified and graceful, he approached the admiuistrator's box, before which he bowed, as did the others,

Two minutes later the piondors were placed and Sebastian walked to the side of the arena. Ho came close to where I was fitting and bowed to JuanitH. Hi* fuce was deadly pale, but never in my life have I seen a more determined look to do —or die.

His aquiline nose, his nlmond eyes, wilh thin black lashes and brows, his fine upper lip nnd slightly heavy chin, formed as striking a face as oue could see. He wns very handsome — handsomer almost thnn Jnanita herself, who acknowledged his bow with a scarcely perceptible sign of recognition over the top ot her fan and a slight elevation of hei'3 eyebrows, as though there was nothing tragic in tho scene, but was one of every day occurrence. A gate is opened in the arena. With a roar, and a shout from the people, tho bull rushes from his darkened cell into tho ring. He looks round him ; for a moment ho paws the ground, then, led on bv the moving cloak of ono of the matador*, ho charges. A graceful bend of the bodv and a slight movement to one side, and"the bull has passed his quarry, who stands untouched and smiling behind him ; again ho charges—three times in quick succession—but his horns touch nothing more solid than the crimson clonk, which waves above his head each time as he passes the matador. For a moment • toro' stands as onestupefied, then spies a larger and safer bait, and with a fearful .insh lifts horse and picador into the air, hurling thorn to the ground in a heap. The mntadovp are quick, however, and while the picador is being helped to his feet, and the attendants are unsaddling

the horse, fast bleeding to death from a wound in its side, they call off the hull by waviflg their cloaks and keeping his attention fixed on themselves. He is a good bull. The people are delighted. " Biavo, toro ?" they cry." Bravissimo!" Another horse falls dead, the third is wounded ami led out, tho fourth killed ; but the Spaniards are not satisfied in thuir blood. The buyle sounds. Sebnstian, who up till now lias gazed in a careless way at the scene, stops forward, takes the sword and the flag, and with a gallant stride marches to the administrator's box, where he swears to kill the bull. There is a deafening cheer as he throws his hat among the people, till he returns victorious —or dead. I turn instinctively toward Junita ; she was leaning back in her seat, slowly fanning herself, her half-closed eyes scarcely conveying even an expression of interest in the proceedings. Sebastian faces the bull, the flag in his left hand, his eyes watching the beast's. His hand is as steady as a rock.

The bull charged ; I drew a quick breath : Sebastian is all right; gracefully, with the ease of a practiced bull fighter, he escaped the horns, which merely touched the scarlet flag. A cheer rings out from the crowd, bringing a flush to his cheek. Again the bull charges, again and a"ain ; each time Sebastian is unscathed but as yet he has had no chance of killing the bull. He is facing it now ; slow, ly he raises the sword—the poiut never trembles, For one second all is dust, the next I saw his manly form laid out full on the sand.

Accustomed as lam to bull fights, I shuddered,

" He is killed ?" cry the people : he is killed !"

The bull never looks at him again, passing on to attack the cloak of one of the matadors. I gaze at Juanita once more. Her expression has not altered to the least degree ; her fan merely vibrates a little quicker. I hated that woman. A ahoi.it from the people recalls my attention. Sebastian has risen, picked up the sword and Hag, and ia facing the bull once more. There was silence ou the ring like death. Again the sword is raised again, all is dust, again a form lies prostrate in the sand—but this time it is the bull. Never have I heard .such i shout as rung through and through the buildings as Sebastian approached the goberuador and bowed. He is paler than ever, but a amile of victory lights up his lips. Then, sword in hand, he turned, approached and faced Juanita, his dark eyes gazing into her face. Her expression is the same as evo.r ; as he bows to her, she never alters a feature. There is no smile of encouragement, scarcely a sign of recognition ; she plucks a rose,

however, from her breast and throws it to him. He stoops and picks it up, and with his eyes fixed on hers, lifts it towards hie lips—hesitates—throws it to the ground, and tramples it under his foot, I look for Juanita. She has left the ring. Five minutes later, ns Sebastian passed through the archchway into the open air, atill in his scarlet and gold, a dagger was buried deep in his breast.

I sawJuanita do it, and it was the only time I saw her smile,

—Blackwood'a Magaziar,