"'I think it is his place,' I answered in a low voice. 'Hush, I would say nothing about it.'
"I looked at Lucy. She was white as snow, and her eyes dwelt on the man with a frightened stare.
"'Why is he there?' she whispered, shivering perceptibly. 'Tell me, if you can, what it means.'
"'What are you inquiring about?' questioned General Harrington, bending toward us with suave politeness. 'Anything that I can tell you?'
"'Who is that man?' I inquired, observing that Lucy could not speak without bursting into tears.
"'Which man?'
"'That person in the arena, who was just bowing to the Infanta.'
"'Oh that man? He is the chief matadore. The best bull-fighter in all Spain.'
"'A matadore, a bull fighter!' almost shrieked Mrs. Eaton, turning upon her daughter and snatching a moss rose from her bosom where it held the folds of her muslin dress together. 'Fling it away, child. Pitch it after him. The humbug—the impostor—the—the—'
"Here the good woman broke down for want of breath, and rattled her fan open with a vicious twist of the hand, as if she longed to box some one's ears with it.