They showed themselves everywhere therefore, displaying much luxury and ostentation, leaving hidden at home the misery and want due to their poverty. They arrived that Sunday at the bull-fight in a coach, the ladies finely dressed, and accompanied by duennas and pages, and settled themselves in the seats covered with damask and tapestry, opposite the place reserved for D. John of Austria.
He was not there at the moment, as he was going to spear the bull in the Spanish fashion, and waited in the little yard until it was his turn to go into the arena. D. John speared his bull successfully, leaving the neck covered with "banderillas" of all colours, which streamed on each side of the bull's head; two gentlemen on horseback gave him the spear, and they in their turn took them from servants wearing the Granvelle livery. Then they gave him a big dart of ash with its wide iron sharp and clean; at the first thrust he killed the wild animal, with a lunge in the nape of the neck which made it fall to the ground, pierced with the weapon, but the horse had no blinkers, so that the bull frightened it, and it gave a false start, allowing the bull to wound it in one of its shoulders, thus spoiling the brilliance of the feat.
D. John returned to his place on the seats, surrounded by a crowd of gentlemen who with much adulation applauded his skill and intrepidity, and Cardinal Granvelle also came to congratulate him: showing him Diana Falangola from afar on the seats opposite, as something wonderful, and D. John, who did not know her, was amazed.
It was then the custom for ladies to throw from the seats, at the bull, what were called "garrochas," which were small darts with sharp points, very like modern "banderillas." These "garrochas" were smartly adorned with flowers, ribbons and feathers; the ladies threw them at the bull with extraordinary skill, and it was very much admired gallantry for the youth of that day to draw them out of the beast with brave daring and return them to the ladies, without a stain or perceptible harm done to the flowers and ribbons or feathers.
D. John took one of these little "garrochas," very smart with its white and yellow ribbons, which were the colours of Diana Falangola, and sent it to her by a little page with a polite message, begging her to throw it, for love of him, at the first bull which appeared. Diana received the "garrocha" with transports of gratitude, and it was worth seeing the obeisance of the father, the bows of the mother, and the attitude of the daughter, who seemed not to wish to throw the "garrocha" for fear of losing or destroying it, but to prefer to keep it like a beautiful toy as a remembrance of the Prince.
D. John sent a second message saying she must throw it: and that he gave her his word to return it to her unhurt. On this, the bull, a very fierce one, black as night, called Caifas, entered the ring; and as luck would have it, after some turns came, snorting, to a standstill in front of the seat of Diana Falangola, fierce and holding his head high, casting wild eyes round the arena, as if seeking enemies to fight. D. John made repeated signs to Diana from his place, until the maiden stood up, threw and stuck with sure aim and great strength the "garrocha" in the back of the bull. The ring broke into applause which stopped at once: all saw D. John jump bravely alone into the arena, a naked sword in one hand, a scarlet cloak in the other. All held their breath and the silence was absolute; the bull was penned at one end bellowing and scraping the ground as if anxious to attack; D. John went straight up to him and at twenty steps called him, stamping on the ground. The bull dashed forward with violence, and D. John, throwing the cloak to the ground to the left, tore the "garrocha" out on the right, at the same time giving such a strong cut on the muzzle, that the animal withdrew from the man, and went and savagely laid hold of the red cloth with roars of pain and in clouds of dust. Meanwhile D. John quietly and slowly walked to Diana Falangola's seat, and cap in hand, on one knee, smilingly presented the "garrocha" to her, without a speck of blood to spoil it, or a stain to mar its feathers and ribbons.
Antonio Falangola, touched and beside himself with joy, craved permission to wait with his wife and daughter on D. John the next day to show his gratitude. The day after D. John returned the visit, making rich gifts to Lucrecia and Diana, and soon afterwards Antonio Falangola set out for Puzzoli, of which he had been appointed Governor by Granvelle, leaving his wife and daughter at Naples: "To appear to know nothing about his shame," writes the spiteful author of the manuscript, "Fatti occorsi nella città di Napoli," in the national archives of that famous city.
CHAPTER III
This lapse of D. John did not last long; for in the middle of December Fr. Miguel Servia writes thus in his diary: