"Let us go, Andrés," said Militona to her husband. "I know not why, but I am very uneasy; I feel sure something will happen."
"What can happen," replied Andrés, "except the death of horses and the fall of a few picadores?"
"I fear lest Juancho should commit some extravagance,—some furious act."
"You cannot forget that unlucky stab, or lucky one, I should rather call it, since to it I owe my present happiness." And Andrés tenderly pressed the hand of his bride, to whose cheeks the blood that for an instant had left them, now began to return. "If you knew Latin—which you fortunately do not—I would tell you that the law of non bis in idem guarantees my safety. Besides the honest fellow has had time to calm himself."
Juancho performed prodigies. He behaved as if invulnerable; took bulls by the tail and made them waltz, put his foot between their horns and leaped over them, tore off the ribbons with which they were adorned, planted himself right in their path and harassed them with unparalleled audacity. The delighted spectators were outrageous in their applause, and swore that such a bull-fight had never been witnessed since the days of the Cid Campeador. The other bull-fighters, electrified by the example of their chief, seemed equally reckless of danger. The picadores advanced to the very centre of the circus, the banderillos drove their darts into the flanks of the bull without once missing. When any of them were hard pressed, Juancho was ever at hand, prompt to distract the attention of the furious beast, and draw its anger on himself. One of the chulos fell, and would have been ripped from navel to chin, had not Juancho, at risk of his life, forced the bull from its victim. Every thrust he gave was delivered with such skill and force that the sword entered exactly between the shoulders, and disappeared to the hilt. The bulls fell at his feet as though struck by lightning, and a second blow was never once required.
"Caramba!" exclaimed Andrés, "Montes, the Chiclanero, Arjona, Labi, and the rest of them, had better take care; Juancho will excel them all, if he has not done so already."
But such exploits as these were not destined to be repeated; Juancho attained that day the highest sublimity of the art; he did things that will never be done again. Militona herself could not help applauding; Andrés was wild with delight and admiration; the delirium was at its height; frantic acclamations greeted every movement of Juancho.
The sixth bull was let into the arena.
Then an extraordinary and unheard-of thing occurred: Juancho, after playing the bull and manoœuvring his cloak with consummate dexterity, took his sword, and, instead of plunging it into the animal's neck, as was expected, hurled it from him with such force, that it turned over and over in the air, and stuck deep in the ground at the other end of the circus.
"What is he about," was shouted on all sides. "This is madness—not courage! What new scheme is this? Will he kill the bull with his bare hands?"