Through the many fine streets of Madrid they drove, and at last they reached the bull ring. Crowds were swarming in through the gates of the big, round arena. Carmen and Pedro's mother, silent and sad-faced, made their way to their box.
The old lady wore a tall comb in her hair and a lace mantilla over it. She opened her fan with a click and started to fan herself. Carmen did the same, as, indeed, everyone else was doing. The sun had been very slow about going to bed.
Over on the opposite side of the arena, the poor people sat in the sun, because those seats were cheaper. There was an air of excitement. The band played the "Toreador's (tŏr´ē̍-ä-dôr´) Song" from "Carmen," and then the fight began.
There were five toreros and five bulls before Pedro's turn came. Pedro was to be last on the program.
Everything seemed to swim before Carmen's eyes during the performances of these other men and bulls. The whole thing was a sea of fluttering fans, sickly blue light, and waving red cloaks.
Then at last Pedro entered the ring. How big and handsome he looked in his colorful costume! He carried the red cape with which he was going to tease the bull.
But before that time, the bull would first be angered by men with sharp sticks and by other men on horseback.
Look! The gate is swinging open now, and here is Rey! Snorting, rolling his fine eyes, the magnificent creature gallops into the center of the arena and stands, bewildered.
Suddenly Carmen cannot look to see her dear friend tortured. She hides her eyes, her delicate little white hands held in front of her face.