“Yes.”
“Does Prince run? He’s the best horse in all the droves.”
“No, he won’t run; Renaud, who usually handles him, told me that he was too tired.”
“Pshaw! what a pity!”
“What about the bulls? Shall we have any that are a bit ugly?”
“There’s Sirous and Dogue and Mâchicoulis. I cut them out myself with Bernard and Renaud. They gave us a lot of trouble! They refused to leave the herd. As soon as we got them out, back they would go again. But we set Martin and Commetoi at them, two bull-dogs that can’t be matched anywhere; and even Mâchicoulis obeyed at last!”
“Martin and Commetoi?—Those are curious names for dogs!”
“It’s a joke. When any one asks: ‘How is your dog called?’[13] The dog’s master replies: ‘Commetoi!’ [Like yourself.] The other man gets angry, and it raises a laugh.”
“And what about the full-blooded Spanish bull, with the horns twisted like a lyre; shall we see him?”
“Angel Pastor? He is sick. I like our straight-horned bulls better. The important thing is that the horns should be far enough apart for a man’s body to go between them.”