Medianoche was in no way like an ordinary bull, who at once seeks his liberty, his fields, and his deserts. He would, before every thing, show them they were not playing with a contemptible enemy; he would revenge himself, and punish. At the noise made by the cries of the crowd, he stopped suddenly.
There is not the least doubt of the bull being a stupid animal. Nevertheless, whether it be the sharp anger, or intelligence the most rebellious, whether it be that he has the faculty to render clear instincts the most blind; it is the fact that some bulls can divine and baffle the most secret ruses of the course. The picadores attracted, at first, the attention of the bull. He charged the one he found nearest to him, and felled him to the earth; he did the same with the second, without leaving the spot, without the lance being able to arrest him, and which inflicted but a slight wound. The third picador shared the fate of his comrades.
Medianoche, his horns and front bloody, raised his head towards the seats whence came cries of admiration at such bravery.
The chulos conveyed the picadores outside the arena. One of them had a broken leg; they took him to the infirmary, and the other two changed their horses.
A new picador replaced the wounded, and while the chulos occupied the attention of the bull, the three picadores resumed their places, their lances in rest.
The bull divided them, and after a combat of two minutes all three were overthrown. One had fainted from having his head cut open; the furious animal attacked the horse, whose lacerated body served as a shield to the unfortunate cavalier.
There was then a moment of profound stupefaction. The chulos searched in vain, at the risk of their lives, to turn aside Medianoche, who appeared to have a thirst for blood, and quenched his rage upon his victim.
At this terrible moment a chulo rushed towards the animal, and covered his head with his cloak. His success was of short duration.
The bull disengaged himself promptly; he made the aggressor fly, and pursued him; but, in his blind fury, he passed him; the chulo had thrown himself on the ground. When the animal suddenly turned round, for he was one of those who never abandon their prey, the nimble chulo had already risen, and leaped the barrier amid the acclamations of the enthusiastic crowd for so much courage and agility.
All this had passed with the rapidity of light. The heroic devotion with which the torreros aid and defend each other, is the only thing really noble and beautiful displayed in these cruel, immoral, inhuman fêtes, which are a real anachronism in our times, so much vaunted as an age of light.