"Balthazzar has a sharp pike and a sure heel," answered Olivia, fanning herself, "and I have no fears for him."
"Have you ever seen any one killed in the arena?"
"Yes. A bull of Xamara tossed our poor cousin, the Condé Estremera, into the air, and he came down dead."
"And still you like this sport?" said Cameron, "sport which our Scottish ladies would shudder to look upon."
"Yes, senor. O viva Santissima!" answered all the ladies at once, clapping their white hands, "here come the bulls!"
A shout of delight from the multitude shook the Plaza. A sort of portcullis had been raised, and forth from his den rushed a bull into the arena, his eyes darting fire, with nostrils elated, and mouth covered with foam, the hair of his neck bristling up like the mane of a lion, and every muscle quivering with the torture he had undergone. He rolled his red eyes about, as if to select a convenient object to attack. The condé waved his orange mantle across the face of the bull, which, uttering a roar, plunged forward upon him. Closely pursued by his formidable adversary, Truxillo ran round the arena. This was the most dangerous part of the game, as a fall, or the least false step, would be certain death. At the moment when the bull was preparing for a grand plunge "with hoof and horn," the condé sprung over a barrier, dropping his mantle as he did so. It was instantly transfixed and tossed into the air by the bull, which was now attacked in the rear by Don Ascasibur, who carried a red mantle and a pike, which he plunged into the brawny flank of the victim. With a roar of fury and agony the beast thundered over the marble pavement after his assailant, but was diverted from the pursuit, being pierced by the pikes of a third and fourth cavalier, who kept him galloping round the arena in every direction, dropping their mantles and leaping the barriers whenever the danger became too pressing, until he sunk exhausted and bloody at the base of the statue of Charles the Fifth, where the condé put an end to its agony by plunging his pike repeatedly into its body. Three others were slain in the same manner, and all the performers had narrow escapes for their lives at different times. The four bulls were sent away to the kitchen of the Casa de los locos[*] for the benefit of the patients and the poor people of the town. Extraordinary agility, skill, and courage were displayed by the four cavaliers in this daring Spanish game, which, though not less cruel, had in it, by the personal risk incurred, something infinitely nobler and more chivalric than the brutal custom of bull-baiting, which so long disgraced South Britain.
[*] Asylum for the insane.
In the course of an hour all the bulls had fallen in succession, and yielded the palm to their four tormentors, who were greeted with enthusiastic applause by the multitude, on whose shoulders they were lifted up, and carried by force triumphantly round the square.
When this display was over, the condé resumed the brown uniform and silver epaulets of the 4th Spanish infantry, and rejoined the duke's guests in the balcony, from which they were beholding other feats of dexterity. A tall and powerful Spaniard, Gaspar Alozegui, the strongest and most athletic man in the two Castiles, entered the arena, bearing a large cannon-shot, and a sledge-hammer. He waved his broad hat to the populace, who cheered their favourite, as no man yet had ever rivalled him in feats of strength and agility. Taking up the cannon-shot, the weight of which I have forgotten, he poised it for a moment in his hand, and then tossing it from him, sent it whizzing along the pavement, as a bowler does a cricket ball, from one end of the Plaza to the other, where it rebounded against the wall of a house and lay still. Alozegui arrogantly challenged any man among the thousands there assembled to throw it within ten feet of the spot where it then lay, offering in that case to forfeit a purse of ten onzas presented to the victor by the fair patronas of the day,—the daughters of the Duke of Alba de T——. Alozegui looked around him triumphantly; but no man answered the challenge, which was not delivered in very moderate language, and he now grasped the shaft of his ponderous hammer. Swinging it thrice round his head, he hurled it from his hand with the speed of a thunderbolt. The crowd for a moment held their breath, and the gaze of their eyes followed the semicircle which it described through the air. It alighted close by the shot, and again the cheers of the people broke forth; after which Gaspar repeated his challenge in the same arrogant terms.
"Such an insolent dog as this Alozegui deserves to be beaten," said the condé.